Paula R.C. Readman's Blog, page 43

Tony Walker’s Classic Ghost Stories Podcast

I’m been lucky enough to have one of my ghost stories read by the amazing Tony Walker on his fabulous Classic Ghost Stories Podcast.

Please check it out and listen to my interview with him afterwards. Yes, I know I do get excited. I’m still finding it all unbelievable that my writing is enjoyed by others.

Thinking Outside The Box

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

Marketing is a real pain as it stop you from writing.

As a full-time writer I would love to say I give my writing a hundred percent of my time everyday. In truth, there are days when I might only give it 1 percent. Life gets in the way too often. After all, I’m not just a writer, but a mother, housewife, and gardener too. As well as being my own PA, editor, a blogger and promoter. Then I also need to exercise my body and mind to remain fit and healthy, with a clear head to think up new plots too. It’s too easy to neglect oneself.

In the last few days, I’ve had my promoter’s hat on and I’ve been busy thinking outside of the box, while looking for new places to promote my work. Like all writers, it’s far too easy for us to just follow the flock, rather than think outside the norm. If you have been a guest on my Clubhouse Guest’s Chat pages, you will know I use over 150 odd Facebook sites, Twitter, Goodreads, and LinkedIn to promote my guest’s chats, as well as my own work. The trouble with promoting on the Facebook sites, or any online media sites, is there’s no way of knowing whether you’re generating sales. So I’m now going to try other places to promote my work.

This company promotes your book online, and in their printed magazine.

When I set off on my writing journey, there were a few milestones ahead of me I wanted to reach. Of course, I knew there’s no such things as a overnight success, when chasing one’s dream. There isn’t any short cuts either, so I was prepared for years of dedication and hard work and never lost sight of my goals.

My first milestone was to get something in print. This I succeeded this quite quick when I had a few nonfiction articles published, and earnt some money from them too. Next was to have a piece of fiction published. This took a lot longer because writing fiction and nonfiction requires two different writing skills. Now that I’ve mastered fiction I can move to my next milestone. I wanted to have my work in a physical bookshop. This box will be ticked soon.

A week ago, I googled all the local bookshops I could find. Of course, there were some big named companies like Waterstones, but if you don’t asks, you won’t know whether they will support local authors, or not. I sent a quite detailed email off that listed all my books, with a brief synopsis of each one, plus their links to Amazon. Always check the site to see if you can find a name of an individual, and address your email to them.

Between The Lines Bookshop, Great Bradfield Essex.

I received answer back from a little independent bookshop in a village, not far from me. On Saturday, I went with my husband to meet Jenny. The feeling I got just sitting in the shop was sheer delight as I listened to Jenny explaining what would happen next. We chatted for over a hour, and she even said once the pandemic was under control she would like to do a book signing at the shop too. How wonderful is that

So why stop at bookshops, why not book festivals too.

I’ve just email my local book festival to ask how a local author goes about putting their books forward for the festival. I guess, it’s just a case of waiting to see what happens next.

I hope I’ve encouraged you to think outside of the box, too.

An Evening On Lisa’s Writers Read

Literature is a luxury; fiction is a necessity

G.K. Chesterton, The Defendants (1901) A Defence of Penny Dreadful

I had an amazing time on Liza Miles online Authors Event last night. Okay so I read perfectly to my husband, but my nerves got the better of me while reading from my new book, Seeking the Dark.

Liza is wonderful at bring out the best in people as we chatted before going live. Pinar Tarhan read first from her Rom-com novel A Change Would Do You Good It’s an escape to a San Diego beach party complete with electrifying music, the whiff of salty air, and the sound of surfer-friendly waves. It was Pinar’s time reading and she mastered it straight off

Here’s the link to Pinar’s book Click here [image error] Seeking the Dark is available on Amazon here’s the link

Next was my turn to read. Having not read to an audience for quite awhile I felt my nerves falter as I stumble through the first part. If you would like to hear how it went then please check out the link below.

Thank you to my dear friends who joined me this evening.

Day 18: No More Mr C

Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon,Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, From Remorse April, 1814 Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822

Day 18: No More Mr C: The End: My time as a mature student: 2007

The time has come!

I’ve finally had enough and wrote a letter to the college about Mr C. It wasn’t something I took lightly, but it was the right thing to do.  Not just for myself, but for those who follow after me.

For those of you who have been following my progress will understand why I did it. The English classes were not of a high standard.  I spoke to Mr A and told him I was disgusted by them and explained my dissatisfaction in how the classes were taught, and about the test we were to be taking on the 16th May.

When I arrived at the class there was only two of us left. Ms 40’s, myself and the classroom assistant, the woman who was brought in to help Motorbike Dave, only he no longer attended.

“I’ve signed you up to take the test on the 16th, Paula,” Mr C said once we realised no one else was coming.

“I won’t be taking it,” I said.

“Why not?” Ms 40’s gasped.

“What!” Mr C said, taken back.

“I’ve learnt nothing from these classes. And passing the test on your computer means nothing either.  If I still don’t understand what I’ve learnt.”

I now understand why he didn’t bother teaching us grammar etc because the questions on the computer were multiple choice answers. After reading a paragraph and the question you select your choice of answers from four possibilities.

I did the pre-test run three times selecting different answers each time, and passed with flying color three times. What is the point of that when I still didn’t know my tenses from my clauses or my adverbials from my passive voice?

The classroom assistant said, “It seems to me that you’re looking for perfection in your writing.”

Dear Reader, What’s wrong with wanting perfection rather than going at it half-heartedly?

I shall explain what happened next.

I sent in my letter and received one back from the college inviting me to a meeting. When my husband and I arrived there were two people waiting for us, a gentleman and Ann. (re: teacher handing out discs.)

The man did most of the talking saying they took my letter seriously and wanted give me a chance to explain why I wouldn’t take the test. I explained as best I could, that I was upset by what had happened, and had hoped to gain clarity about English grammar from the lessons but instead I was none the wiser. All my frustrations bubbled over and I broke down and cried. I said it was like being back at school and walking way without really understanding anything.  The gentleman said “How did I feel about taking the course again, with another teacher.”

I said I was delighted to have the opportunity.

So I joined again. This time the teacher was a young woman. She seemed more organised and used the board when explaining anything. I did notice she copied most things from a book. If you asked her a question, she also looked things up in the book, and then read out the answers to us.

A couple of lessons in, The teacher spent a good portion of the time telling us what a terrible time she was having teaching her young daytime students because they were rude and aggressive, throwing furniture around and swearing at her.

Dear reader, I might come across as being unsympathetic towards her, but I didn’t see what that had to do with us. We were a class of twelve all willing and wanting to learn from her.  

On another occasion she turned up without her glasses and one of the students lent her a spare pair they were carrying. I wondered quite what would have happened if she hadn’t been loan a spare pair.  

One evening when the rest of the class left for a smoke break, I asked the teacher if she could look at a piece of my writing. She showed an interest in my work. I explained that I wanted to understand about tenses and how did I know when I could change a tense, or what tense I needed to write in.

She asked me what it was I was writing. I explained I was writing a novel and marked a paragraph on a page from the opening chapter of my WIP.    She said she would look at it, but not now. I had to accept that as she set the sheet to one side.

The following week was half term so no lesson. You can imagine my surprise when I received a letter asking me to attend a meeting, which I did. As I stood outside the classroom the caretaker told me there wasn’t any evening classes as it was half term. I said I was aware but I was there for an assessment to see how I was getting on in my evening class.

Ann arrived. I chatted happily with her, but she didn’t engage with me as she unlocked the door. She held a plastic folder and I could see a photocopy of my nonfiction article which had recently been published in a magazine. She set the folder down and pulled out a sheet. It was the opening chapter from my novel.

There was a growing tension in the room, and I felt uncomfortable.

What came next, hit me hard.  For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Not that she was going to allow me too. She pointed at the page and ranted on about how if I had been at full-time student at the college I would’ve had detention for handing in such disgusting language, and for expecting one of her teachers to read such work.

I tried to explain that I had marked a paragraph for the teacher to read, and that it didn’t contain any bad language. I said, I was writing for an adult audience and that I had only asked the teacher to check my tenses.

She wasn’t listening, and continued, saying people like me disgusted her because I thought I could get what I wanted by just bursting into tears. She stood, gathered up her folder and told me not to bother coming back because I wasn’t welcome at her college.

You never know where your dreams and hard work will take you. Never give up

Here’s the page from my novel Ravenscar: Please be aware it contains strong language.

   “So Martha Thompson, what else can you tell me?  Apart from the fact you’re more like a ghost than a witch, because you seem to be haunting me.”

    Alex came back into the room; his lean, naked body glistened as he rubbed his fair hair dry in a towel.

   “What were you saying?  With the water running, I couldn’t hear.”

   “Her name’s Martha.”

    “Who?”

    “The woman, I keep dreaming about.  Alex, you don’t listen to me, do you?”

     “Please, Esther I don’t have time for your silly dreams.  That’s all they are silly dreams.  So what are you doing today, catching up on your sleep?  Or better still, you could be out and about looking for a new job, which would be much appreciated by me.” 

     On hearing the postman, Alex slipped on his shorts and disappeared downstairs calling back as he went. 

    “I hope I’ll hear some good news about the business deal, Amanda and I have been working on.”

    Esther sat up and jumped out of bed.  “My God, what did that woman say about our blood, our forefathers?” She stood before her long, dressing mirror studying herself, “She doesn’t look like me.”  Holding back her shoulder-length brown hair, she studied her green eyes in the glass.  

   “Who doesn’t look like you?”  Alex said as he came back carrying the post.

    Esther tilted her head first one way then the other, studying her features.  “Martha doesn’t look like me.”

   “Oh shit, shit, shit…,”Alex exclaimed, shaking the letter he held.

Yes, Dear Reader, The word shit upset the young teacher and Ann. Maybe, Alex should have said, “Oh Crap!” But I don’t think that would’ve made any difference.

Anyway, I got kicked out of college. It broke my heart, but not my spirit. I wanted printed on the back of all my books ‘Contains strong language, not suitable for college teachers.’

My darling husband kindly paid for me to have a private teacher come to our home. We could only afford one lesson, but Russell felt it might help me to see where my weaknesses were, and if need be I could have a few more lessons as and when we could afford them.

When the private teacher arrived, I explained everything that had happened at the college. She said she wasn’t at all surprised as the college had a bad reputation. A lot of her students had studied there, and failed their exams which was why they needed her help to re-sit them.  She read some of my work and gave me a few pointers with my punctuation. Overall she felt I wrote naturally, and I had a good comprehension of English grammar. Once my confidence grew my writing would improve, but if I really felt I needed extra lessons she might be able to fit me in, but she was very busy.

After notes:

In 2020 the college became nothing more than a pile of rubble, and in the near future it will become housing. The house of learning has now amalgamated with a college in a nearby city. I just hope the teachers there know how to bring out the best in our young people.

And what happened to Mr C. I’ve no idea. I guess he’s still writing his novel.

And as for me. The saying, What doesn’t break you makes you grow stronger is true. Don’t give up on your dream.

Day 17: This Madness Mr C!

Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,Out of the Ninth -month midnight,Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander'd alone, bare-headed, barefoot, From Out Of The Cradle Endlessly Rocking by Walt Whitman. He was born May 31, 1819 – March 26, 1892 and was an American poet, essayist, and journalist

Day 17 This is Madness. Or maybe a Catch-22 situation, Mr C? My time as a Mature Student in 2007

While I’m cooking, I like to be read to by some famous people and sometimes not so famous.  It’s okay. I know that sounds crazy, but hey, I’m talking about madness here. No seriously, I enjoy listening to audio books, while I’m busy in the kitchen or doing housework.

By listening to audiobooks, I hoped to learn what I must hear when I read my own work aloud as I edit. Hearing how the words sound as well as their rhythm, and where the reader is placing the emphasis as they read. I’m hoping to learn how to construct emotions and feelings into my own work, as well as it helps me to know what sounds good and what doesn’t.

When I read a book, I can see the patterns of the words, how the pages are set out, where the changes in the storyline and chapters occurs. I can see how the author has constructed the sentences, where they have placed the punctuation, how the plot moves along, and the pace of the book.

At the moment, I’m reading James Herbert’s book ‘Others’ and listening to Joseph Heller’s novel ‘Catch-22’. Catch-22 is one of two books I believe I should read before I die, but if like me you find cult books and, for that matter, cult films very hard to understand, then try listening to someone else reading it.

Many years ago, I tried to read Catch-22 but gave up. Now listening to the audio tape of the book while making homemade bread this morning, I found I understood it.  Why this is, I don’t know. Maybe, that in itself is a bit of a Catch-22 situation.  Whether it is because I’m older and hopefully much wiser, or maybe it’s because I understand the madness of war a lot clearer now.  Who’s to say?

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Talking about madness, I shall tell you about my evening class. This week was our first class after the Easter break. When I arrived, I saw Motorbike Dave sitting on the wall while chatted on his phone.  So I went and stood by our classroom door. After about five minutes, Motorbike Dave joined me.

He told me he had seen Ms 40’Something arriving. I asked him if he had done any reading or writing over the holiday. He laughed. “Nope, too busy working on my bike.”

I truly wondered why he comes along to classes.

Soon Ms 40’s joined us. As we stood waiting, we began to wonder if Mr C had also deserted us. Ms 40’s said that maybe he’d forgotten to come back from France. We decided to ask one of the other teachers if they knew whether Mr C would be taking our class. They told us to go and ask at the main reception. As we set off Mr C came round the corner. He said he hoped we weren’t deserting him.

Once we were settled in our classroom, Ms 40’s explained she didn’t have her folder as it was locked in the boot of her car and couldn’t get it out because of the central locking system had jammed. When I took some pages out of my notebook for Ms 40’s to write on, Mr C threw me a very strange look, with wide eyes and open mouth.
“Sorry, but I thought this was an English class,” I said passing her the writing paper.
“No, not that?” He said pointing at my desk, “what is it?”
“This? It’s just a short story I’m working on.”
“Oh, I suppose you want me to look at it?”
“It’s ok; you’ve already seen it. I’ve done some work on it because I want to send it off for a competition.
After he had given us his customary work sheets and read them to us in his usual dismissive tone, he then went off to print up some more for us to work on while he set up the computers. Once we had also finished the new worksheets too, he explained what he wanted us to do on the computers.

He told Ms 40’s that he thought she should try level 2 of the test.  Then he told Motorbike Dave he had given him a different test, as he wasn’t ready to work on the same level as the rest of us. Motorbike Dave worked with the classroom assistant, because he needed one to one help with both reading and writing.

Ms 40’s ask once again when we would be having our English test as her math was on Tuesday. Mr C skirted around the question and mumbled an answer. Ms 40’s unperturbed said, “You said something about it being at the end of July.”
“No, it’s sometime in June, anyway, have a go at this test and see how you get on with it.”
He turned to me and said he would look at my short story while the class was working on the computer.  By now, I really couldn’t care less whether he read my homework or not. I went over to the computer and started to work on the test.

The test involved reading some paragraphs and then answering multi-choice questions. All you had to do is make a choice from A to D then click on the answer, which you thought was the right one. If you weren’t quite sure, you could take a stab at it. There was no writing involved, even the question on spelling didn’t involve typing in words. You just had to guess out of four answers, which was the correct spelling. The question on things like punctuation and grammar were the same. I got 29 questions right out of 40 the computer told me that 27 out of 40 right answers was a pass. The program allowed you to go back and see where you had gone wrong and which one was the right answers.

When Mr C checked how we were doing he found Ms 40’s was working on level one instead of level two, so as there was some time left she went on to try level 2. I then had a go at the next test on the same level, but we ran out of time and the class ended. Mr C said we could save our places on the test until next week.
Ms 40’s said, was it ok if she finished the test as she had only nine questions to go.

I went back to my desk to pack away my things and couldn’t find my short story. Mr C told me he had it. “I’ve read this one before.”

“Yes, you have,” I said explaining I had made some changes. He asked me if I had got rid of the ending as he had told me to do when he had read it the first time.
“No, I hadn’t.” I pulled up a chair as he went through it with his red pen.

Let me explain dear reader, what my story is about; a man has arrived at his local library with his overdue library books and is being given a dressing down by the librarian.
Mr C told me what he thought I should do to improve my story. “You should describe the setting more.”

Excerpt from my short story: Shelved (now published in my collection of short stories, Days Pass like A Shadow.)
“But because of the likes of you,” There was that accusing finger again. “Who don’t return them when they should; I have to put up with all sorts of bad behaviour and flaring tempers.”

Mr C said I should change it:
‘There was that accusing finger again’ to ‘He pointed an accusing finger again.’

I said, but wasn’t that changing it from showing to telling the reader. Just the same as if I went into details about what the library looked like, instead of concentrating on my two characters. After all most people know what a library looks like. I would have thought this would weaken the storyline as well as pushing it over the maximum word count.

Soon Ms 40’s had finished her test and told us she had the same score as me. Mr C said maybe she could work on the test in next week’s lesson.

“Oh no it’s all right,” she said with a grin. “I have the disc at home the teacher Ann had given me a copy so I could practice.”

I sat there open mouthed. No wonder Mr C wasn’t bothered about teaching us in class.  The college was handing out a disc to allow the students to practice answering the questions. That way the college got higher pass rates, and then more money from the government. The government, in turn, could tell the news media it had increased the standard of adult education in the country.  But in truth the students in my adult class were being given discs to pass the test without learning anything. A Catch-22 situation?

“Catch-22 said, that if Yossarian were crazy, he wouldn’t have to fly any more dangerous combat mission. But since he’s sane enough to know he was crazy to keep on flying them, then he wasn’t crazy, and so he would have to continue flying.

That’s the Catch-22.

Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com

Madness, isn’t it?

Day 16: Good Old Mister C

Stop and Consider! Life is but a day;A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way from a tree's summit.From Sleep and Poetry by John Keats (1795–1821) The Spirit of Man: An Anthology. 1916.

Day 16 Good Old Mister C : My life as a mature student 2007

I was asked on numerous occasions why I carried on with my college course when it was obvious, Mr C couldn’t teach. For me, the reason was I hoped to walk away known more than I had at the beginning, but also I didn’t want to let the remaining students down. At the start of the course there were eleven of us, now only three remained.

For Mr C to tell me this was his second year of teaching Adult Learning classes, and last year was a total disaster, didn’t instil any more confidence in me. He said, he was more use to teaching foreign students English or French to English students.

The course, ‘Brushing up on English’ was the British government’s attempt to raise the standard of English and Maths within the low classes adult population. It was completely free and paid for by the good old British taxpayer of which I was one of them. I left school without any qualifications and spent all my working life in low paying jobs. When I hit the big four zero, I made up my mind to overcome my biggest fear, the fear of writing. I was ashamed of not being able to fill in forms in front of others. I couldn’t spell and didn’t understand grammar or how it worked. I had failed an entry exam to get into Art College, because I couldn’t write well enough or be able to spell.

Yes, I could read well and write of sort, but ask me about verb, adjective etc, I had no idea at all. Grammar was a foreign language to me. I tried to learn it from ‘The Oxford Dictionary of English Grammar’, but it just went over my head. I knew I could just about scape by with what I understood and if hard pressed I could write a short letter and get what point I wanted to say across. Though I would take me many rewrites before it was perfect.  So why, after all these years, was I bothering with self-improvement.

Quite simply my love of the written word, books, poetry, and quotations. These were my secret passion. I’ve surrounded myself with books, even as a very small child I found them to be magical. All that hidden knowledge was like a treasure chest, if you could just crack the code and decipher the pattern.

One of my earliest memories was my mother taking me into our newly, built village library in the 1960’s. I had never seen so many books in my life. My small fingers caressed the brightly-coloured pages as I stared in wonder at this magical world. A lady came over and told me I could take the books home to read. With joy, I made my selection and held them tight to me. The librarian told my mother that she needed to fill in a form to become a member of the library before I could take them.

My mother snatched the books from me without a word and we left, never to return. My mother had learning difficulties and in today’s world it would have all been done on computers, and Mum would’ve been helped too.

My time working in a factory. Behind me is Lisa who read my first short story and encouraged me to start this journey.

As a teenager, I spent most of my Saturdays in a reference library, which I discovered across the road from where I lived. There was a beautiful white Persian cat that uses to like sleep on top of the books on the bottom bookshelves.  While in the library I would hide away from the other readers and sit on the floor in a corner. The cat would join me. At the end of the day I would put the books back on the shelves. One day, one of the librarians saw me and said “You’re allowed to take six books out, if you fill in a form. I shook my head, knowing I couldn’t do it. She smiled and said “I’ll fill it in for you, you just tell me your name and address. She explained that the tickets meant I could go into any library in Essex and borrow the books.

It opened a whole new world to me.

I had always separated reading from writing. I know that may sound strange to you as it does to me now. Writing was something only clever people did and it wasn’t something I could do.
So, let’s go back to the question of me complaining about Mr C’s ability to teach, or lack of it. I felt if I made a complaint now, it could be overridden by them saying they have taken note of it, but I needed to finish the course first. We were meant to fill in a form at every lesson to say how well our classes went, but Mr C never remembered to hand out our folders for us to fill them in. I know my level of understanding and my ability to read and write was on a higher level than most of the students in the class. The foreign students were highly-educated, they lack of understanding was only due to being lost in translation. One they understood how to fill in a CV they never came back.

I’d been busy reading over eighty books on ‘How to’ write since I made the decision to improve my writing.  This is why I kept questioning Mr C when he seems to contradict, not just himself, but what I’d already learnt from the books.

When I was at school I believed the teachers were qualified to teach after all, they had been to university. The other students in my class had far greater need than I, which was another reason why I didn’t walk away. As ‘Lady Grace’ told Mr C, “Paula keeps you on your toes, Mr C.”

If I didn’t understand what he’s talking about, I would ask, as I did on Thursday. Where the others wouldn’t ask for clarification, and if they did, Mr C tended to waffle for a bit, and then carry on reading from the printed out sheet. Myself, I wouldn’t let it go until I fully understood.

Mr C called me bossy, but as I pointed out to him, I’m there to learn and at the moment, I wasn’t.
I’d given him every chance, and he was aware I haven’t gone behind his back. At the end, when I do complain I will be able to tell the college, Mr C was fully aware of how I felt about his method of teaching.

I want to take this opportunity to thank Lisa and the librarian whose words of encouragement changed my life completely.

I’m sure you dear reader have plenty of people in your life who through their words have changed your life too.

Day 15: A Busy Week in the Life of a Would-be Writer

A swift dark dream from the outer landsfrom the folk whose talk none understands. taken from the opening to the poem An Escape interludes and poems by Lascelles Abercrombie 9 January 1881 – 27 October 1938. British poet and literary critic. Published by Lane in 1908 Photo by Talha R on Pexels.com

Day 15: A Busy Week in the Life of a Would-be Writer: My time as a mature student.

This week started with the arrival of a copy of Francesca McMahon’s novel ‘How to marry the Dead.’ It had won a writing competition, and I wanted to read it after meeting and chatted to Francesca at the Essex Book Festival.

I’ve been busy this week with my housework, as I’ve fallen behind on it. However, in the end, my writing won through as I set to work on my third assignment for my home study course with the Writing Magazine. Yes, you have read that right, I’ve invested in a writing course, with the Writers’ News, called Polish Your Writing Style. 
Just to bring you up to date, my second assignment came back about a week ago. The second part of the question I messed up completely but overall I’m very pleased with how well I’ve done.

My evening classes had left me doubting my ability to write, let alone my ability to understand Basic English. Mr C left me feeling totally confused. When I asked him to explain to me what he had just told the class I’m left feeling none the wiser. Sometimes I got the feeling he’s just too busy showing us how clever he was by using all the grammatical terms, without really explaining to us, in simple terms, so we could understand what it was he was talking about.

When I was at school many years ago, I was stuck in the bottom grade with all the children who either didn’t want to learn, or played up so much that the teachers couldn’t be bothered to teach us. I was so unhappy as I always felt I could do better, I went to the head teacher and begged her to put me in a higher grade, but I was denied.

Looking back over my school years, I can truly say not one of my teachers left a deep and lasting impression on my life. Forty-eight years later, Mr C was making a huge impression on me, but not for all the right reasons. When I left the class last week, I did think twice about whether it was worth going back.

But I did. There were three of us waiting for Mr C to arrive.  Motorbike Dave, myself, and the new woman I shall call K.

“He (Mr C) talks too much about things we don’t need to know, ” K whispered to me. “Why is he telling us about his family background?”
I laughed. “I wished you had joined our class sooner. I thought was the only one who had noticed that fact.”

Mr C’s first comment to me at the beginning of the lesson was one of shock.

 “What you haven’t brought a short story in for me to read! Well Paula, what have you been doing all week?”

I explained that I was busy doing a home study course. What I really wanted to say was I didn’t see much point in handing anything in. He didn’t bother to read, or mark any of the tasks he had set us as homework during any of the classes. Not that he even particularly interested in whether anyone completed them at all.

A little later, Ms 40’s arrived, along with the classroom assistant.
This week’s class was about Past Perfect. Once again we got an online print out and Mr C read it to us, though he has started to write things out on the board. Also, he had started to divide the lesson up into three parts i.e. we read the printout and talk about it. Then we talked about different writing styles. He gave us two examples by two authors. One was from The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje.

When Ms 40’s asked Mr C what was the title of book the second opening passage came from and who wrote it?

“I can’t remember the name of the book, but I have read it,” Mr C said quickly changing the subject.

Photo by Markus Winkler on Pexels.com

While we were talking about writing styles, Mr C said the strangest of things. In his opinion books weren’t realistic enough as none of the characters ever went to the toilet, had meals, bathed, or went to sleep.
I said, unless these things were relevant to the plot there was no need to add them, as within reality most readers would know the characters would have done these things.
I then joked with Mr C, saying no wonder he had taken 24 years writing his novel, if he was adding in all this extra information that wasn’t needed.

A Book News Bite

I’ve been busy trying to come up with new ways of marketing my writing. Yesterday, I googled all my local book shops to find out how, as an independent author, I went about getting my books in their shops. Like all aspects of my life, it’s been a case of trial and error.

Please join me by clicking on this Link

I’ve been using Fussy Librarian and Book Cave to help promote my books as these companies are within my price range, and on over 125 sites across Facebook, as well as on LinkedIn, Twitter, Goodreads, Instagram, and of course this blog. The problem is you’re never quite sure whether you’re just stabbing in the dark as I can’t say for sure if I’m hitting my market. The trouble is you have no physical contact with anyone. At the weekend I sold five books while chatting with the readers. I felt a real connection with them and hope they felt the same in return.

Reading is such a personal thing as you lose yourself in the writer’s words. The time invested in reading, an activity which is so time-consuming must be worthwhile for the reader. The writing needs to hook them and keep them turning the pages, but the real difficulty is getting your book into their hands in the first place.

Amazon is fine in as much as it is huge, and gives you the opportunity to sell in other countries without having to post your books to the readers. The trouble is it is so impersonal. To my way of thinking, the more personal contact we have with our audience the more sales we will likely generate, plus you will leave a personal impression on them that they will more than likely start reading your book straight away. All services, whether its banking, hotels, airports etc, all know how important the personal touch is to their customers, and the more positive the experience they have, the more likely they are to return. I know to make my business grow, I need to make contact with my readers.

The reason why all bestselling authors reach their dizzying heights, and have bestselling novels isn’t just because they tell a brilliant story, but also because they are known on a personal level by their audience. Go along to any book festival and you will see it for yourself. Being well-known is the reason why most celebrities take up writing and publishing agencies snap their manuscripts up. They are already familiar household names and faces.

How do you become well-known?

Well, apart from committing a nasty deed and getting your name plastered over the media, you’ll need to build an following. This can be done online by a blog, Facebook, Twitter etc. You’re here now, reading this, so I’m taking it that you have been following my progress for some time. Maybe we already know each other on a personal level, but is it enough for you to buy my books? I hope so.

What else can I do?

Well, I’m planning to meet my audience, and have done so already. At the weekend, my village had a garage sale, so I posted a photo of my books on the village’s Facebook site, and said copies were available at my house. Five lovely readers dropped by to chat and buy my book.

The picture I posted on my village Facebook site

This coming weekend, I shall be on a live chat show called Writers Read with Liza Miles, talking and reading from Seeking the Dark. On Saturday, I shall be taking a copy of my first dark crime novel Stone Angels to a local bookshop. I know, it is so exciting. I can’t quite believe it myself.

How did that come about?

Stone Angels

Well, after googling to find out whether there was any bookshops local to me, I then emailed them with details about myself, my books and why I was contacting them. In the evening I received an email back ask me for a copy of Stone Angels On Saturday, I shall be delivering it to the shop.

I shall let you know what happens next.

Day 14: Now I’m Teaching the Teacher.

And life is colour and warmth and light, And a striving evermore for these; And his is dead who will not fight, and who dies fighting has increase. Into Battle: this poem was written on the battlefields of Flanders by Capt. Hon, Julian H.F. Grenfell in 1915 he died of his wounds on May 26th. Photo by Pixabay on

Day 14 Now I’m Teaching the Teacher. My time as a mature student in 2007

After last week’s lesson, where Mr C spent nearly two hours telling us how to write a CV. Though most of that time was taken up by him informing us he was born in France, his best friend studied ancient Greek and was the cleverest person he knew.

Please don’t ask why we needed to know that because I have no idea what it had to do with filling in a CV.

Mr C gave us all a copy of a sample CV, he had made earlier and then told us he was sorry he’d made some errors on it. Ms 40Something asked about our in-class short story and could she have the next part.

“Just carry on making it up,” Mr C said,

“Will we be doing anything more with them?” she asked.

“Yes, yes, at a later date,” Mr C said dismissively.

This week, I was apprehensive about going to my English classes after such an uninteresting lesson last week.

Yes, I know I can’t expect him to talk about what I want, like English grammar, punctuation, or even the continuous tenses. I know some of the students found the lesson on CV very interesting as three of them are foreign students who are hoping to get a job over here.

When we entered the classroom, there was only two students, plus two classroom assistants and Mr C himself.

“Is this all of you?” he asked as he sorted out his paperwork. Motorbike Dave arrived closely followed by Ms 40something. Mr C handed me back Part 5 of my short story and said he wanted to talk to me about it later on. By now, two more of the students had arrived, and Mr C settled us down to working on a covering letter to go with last week’s CV.

Then Mr C came over to talk to me. He pointed out a typing error, and then went on to say he hoped I wouldn’t get upset by what he was about to tell me. After three attempts at trying to find the right words, he went into a long story about when he was twenty, and he had a friend who was a professional photographer. Mr C had gone out and bought all the same camera equipment, from a matching camera to the film. Then they had set off together to take the same photographs. When the pictures were printed, you could see who was the professional and who was the amateur.
“What I’m trying to tell you, is you are using the same words over again. You need to expand your vocabulary.”

Why he couldn’t have just told me straight-out, I don’t know. I said as we were talking about not wanting to hurt each other’s feelings could I just say I felt his classes had no structure and why wasn’t he spending a hour of the two hour class on the CV. And the second hour on talking to us about the stories he had got us to write. If I was lacking in my vocabulary, then that’s why I was here to learn, and so far, all I have learnt was how to use two commas in one sentence.

If I had learnt anything more, it was from a book, I bought called ‘Collins Cobuild intermediate English Grammar’. I am at the moment working my way through the exercises in the book. I work on them during in my tea and lunch breaks at my place of work.

The thing which surprised me most was when he told me, he had only been taking these classes for two years, this being his second year. The first was a complete disaster, his words not mine. I told him I felt he talked far too much about unrelated things, rather than actually teaching us. He then told me, he was more uses to teaching foreign students and people who wanted to learn French.

“This is a hard class to teach because everyone has different needs,” he said.
“We are all here for the same reason, to have a basic understanding of English grammar. At the end of the day, all forms of writing need this,” I told him.

I completed Writers’ News Home Study course in 2008

Over the past four years, I have subscribed to the Writing Magazine and Writers’ News. I’ve now decided to do their Home Study Courses. I hope this will help me. I have been looking for a local writing group to join but so far, I’ve had no luck. The college, where I have been going, no longer does evening classes for creative writing.

I was very upset by what happened last night, having to tell Mr C what I felt was wrong with his class and then for him to tell me, I should have said something earlier. I never thought for one moment I was going there to teach the teacher how to do his job. I had hoped I would learn something to my benefit.

At that point I no longer had any respect for Mr C. The teacher, I spoke to before I signed up to the classes had also misled me. I had explained to Mr A what I was hoping to learn and had even shown him some of my work. He told me the classes covered every form of writing from short stories through to poetry.
When I told Mr C that I was led to believe that his classes would cover all forms of writing through to poetry. Mr C was shocked, and told me he disliked poetry, and couldn’t see the point of it.

I tried to explain to him that he could use it as another form of writing.

“Well, I suppose I could have use it to explain punctuation,” he said in a non-plus tone.
“You could have made the classes more interesting if we knew what we were doing next,” I said, “If you had a simple timetable so the students knew what was coming next, maybe they wouldn’t have lose interest so quickly.”

He said, he didn’t know what he was doing next.
Well, that about says it all. I shall see this through to the end. Things can’t get any worse, can they?

Tearoom Guest’s Chat: Valerie Holmes

Welcome to Clubhouse Chat page. Those of you who are not a member won’t be aware that the location of the Clubhouse is shrouded in mystery. The only way to visit it is via membership or an invite to the tearoom. Every few days, I’ll be sharing a conversation with all sorts of writers and authors at different levels of their writing careers. Over tea and cakes, or maybe a glass of something stronger, I shall be chatting with my guest about their work in progress, or latest book release.

Photo by Adrianna Calvo on Pexels.com

Today I’m welcoming to the tearoom Valerie Holmes. Welcome to the tearoom of a chat about your new book, Valerie. but first let’s order our drinks.

Thank you for inviting me, Paula. I’d love a soya latte, please!

Tell us a little about your latest writing project.  Is it a new idea, or one you have been mulling over for some time?

Betrayal is the first book in the Regency ~ Friends and Foes series. At its heart there is a love story wrapped around an adventure. It was inspired by the fate suffered by many governesses during this period. 

Often these women came from a higher social class than their employers. Sometimes their family had fallen upon harder times. Alternatively, the male family relations who women depended upon were unable or unwilling to support the unmarried female, their fate was often not a happy one. Governesses were hired only for the period needed to homeschool young boys or to give basic education to girls. With no pension, and a meagre living, they needed solid references to find their next position. They were above the rank of a servant, yet not equal to the rank of a family member, and so lived in a lonely twilight zone inbetween. Miss Georgina Davey is left vulnerable but has a strong and loyal friend in Miss Lydia Fletcher, but a powerful adversary in Lady Constance Bagby.

Valerie Holmes

How many unfinished projects do you have on your computer? 

I have three at the moment. A crime novel set in the early nineteenth century, which will be the start of a series.

The final drafts are being prepared for Regency ~ Friends and Foes series Books 2 & 3 to be released in early Autumn and Christmas this year.

Do you write a synopsis first, or write the first chapter or do you let the characters lead you.)

I used to always begin with the first chapter and develop the plot from there.  Now, with more than one project to consider I am far more organised and have a ‘CSI’ style board as well as a spreadsheet to keep track of the time-lines and the continuity of subplots. This ensures the characters, story arc developed at a realistic pace.

What did you learn when writing your book? In writing it, how much research did you do?  

I love research. It is a continuous process for me: reading fiction, non-fiction within the genre and era as well as visiting places (outside of global pandemics and lockdowns!). Over the years I have absorbed so much information about the eras that I love. The more I research though the more quirky things that I come across, such as, pineapples – even rotten ones – being status symbols as they were exotic and rare, or the facination people had for visiting the scene of a murder or to observe the ‘insane’.

Is there anything about you your readers might be surprised to find out?

I was a child carer as my mum had Multiple Sclerosis, but it was an experience that taught me some valuable life-lessons very early, such as, the importance of good health, patience, love, determination and to admire those who have a daily fight and struggle to enjoy their life.

Did you uncover things about yourself while writing your books (or stories, play, poem) whether that be a long forgotten memory, a positive experience etc.

Yes, that my past life has taught me to be resilient and not to give up – excellent advice for anyone wanting to make a living as an author. I also realised that I have known some very strong female role models, who were loving and caring.

Do you set yourself a daily word count?  

I used to write between 1k-1.5k per day, but now I tend to set overall deadlines and make sure that I hit those dates and targets.

How many hours a day do you write?

Usually, 3 to 4, but I will work whatever hours I need to to hit targets around family and other commitments. I am rarely bored as I always have something to do.

I also work as a Creative Writing Tutor, more details are on: www.ValerieHolmesAuthor.com

Did you ever consider writing under a pseudonym?

I do, and may use another for another genre.

How long on average does it take you to write a book?

That’s a difficult question to answer now!

My novellas can take two months, but the novels 8 months of writing and edits – longer if you include the research which goes behind each one.

Thanks for inviting me and for the coffee, Paula! It’s lovely to catch up and have a chat.

Thank you for joining me, Valerie. If you would like to find out more about Valerie and her books please click on the link below:

 www.ValerieHolmesAuthor.com

@ValerieHolmesUK

Insti: Valerieholmes.author

If you want to find out more about Clubhouse Members’ Books, don’t forget to check out the Clubhouse Bookshops too.