Shani Struthers's Blog, page 6
October 1, 2015
Something for the Weekend – Taming Tom Jones!
Happy launch day to Margaret K Johnson today, author of many of my favourite books and now the brilliant Taming Tom Jones! I had the pleasure of reading this in its editorial stages and, as ever, Johnson’s writing captured me from the very beginning, delivering me very happily to a great ending. Grab a coffee, read what’s it all about and what true life events inspired her to write it and then go grab a copy from Amazon. Over to you, Margaret…
I wanted to explore several different themes with Taming Tom Jones. I suppose the one that runs through the whole novel is The truth isn’t always what you think it is. As a writer, I always have a sentence like that to refer to – it helps me to plan, and I can hang everything onto it. The book is also about a woman – Jen – who too easily lets other people take control of her, gaining in confidence to determine her own future.
At the beginning of Taming Tom Jones, Jen discovers she’s pregnant. She’s thrilled about it, since she’s always wanted children, but she’s also pretty scared, because she knows her partner Michael doesn’t want more children than his teenage son, Kyle. He’s a great father, but that’s enough for him. Fearful as she is, Jen has every intention of telling Michael the news – of course she has; he’s the father, for goodness sake! He has every right to know, whatever might happen after he’s found out. So Jen decides to cook a nice meal for him, to put him in a good mood and waits nervously for him to come home from work. But a motorcyclist roars up to the house instead. She goes to see who it is, never imagining it is Michael; that he has traded his sensible, essential car in for the bike.
“Come for a ride with me,” Michael suggests. “Let me show you what she can do.”
I’ve unpacked the shopping, and now I’ve started on tea. Michael’s filling the kitchen doorway – a tall, broad-shouldered man with the same cheeky, teenage grin as his son. The familiar contours of his body are concealed beneath creased and creaky black leather, and his face lit by the thrill of his recklessness. Without warning, a huge rush of emotion washes over me, and I have to turn away, busying myself with the stir-fry I’m cooking.
“Jen?”
“No.” My voice comes out funny, as if I’m trying to hide something. Which I am. “Not today.
I’m a bit scared of motorbikes.”
“You’re mad at me,” he says.
I add bean sprouts to the sizzling wok. “You’re the one who has to travel all over the place for your job. The one who has to transport paintings to exhibitions all the time.” I stir vigorously; too vigorously – bean sprouts scatter onto the hob and beyond. Somehow the activity provides me with enough control to look at him again.
Michael’s cheeky grin has been replaced by an expression I’ve become all too familiar with lately; a blend of exasperation and disappointment that gives me the impression I don’t quite come up to scratch. As I watch, he shrugs. “I’ll hire a van when I need to,” he tells me dismissively. “It’s not a problem.” Then he sighs and makes an effort to produce a persuasive smile. “Come for a spin with me, Jen,” he asks softly, reaching out to caress my neck just below my ear the way I like it. “Please.”
Not unsurprisingly, Jen thinks Michael’s going through a mid-life crisis. This, I’m sure you’ll agree, is extremely inconvenient, considering what she’s just found out. The term mid-life crisis conjures up an image of someone desperately trying to cling on to their youth – changing their image, and perhaps dressing in a way that is too young for them, buying a sports car and even jettisoning their long-term partner for someone much younger. A mid-life crisis is about a dissatisfaction with what someone has achieved so far in their life, and a sudden awareness of mortality, and if you’re the partner of someone going through one it can be very hard not to take it personally. Believe me, I know, because I’ve been on the receiving end of it! With my partner, it began with him jettisoning his well-paid job in education to start up a business – I supported him in that. But then he moved on to jettisoning me, which was quite a different matter. I heard afterwards that he’d started to sport dreadlocks, which must have been fairly difficult, given that his hair was thinning rapidly when we split up. (Miaow).
Broken-hearted, I moved away to start a new life. But Jen doesn’t do that. She decides she very much wants their relationship to survive, and so she takes drastic action. Keeping the news about her pregnancy a secret for now, she embarks on an investigation of his exes. Michael is also something of a serial monogamist you see, and has never stayed in a relationship for longer than four years. Jen’s idea is that, if she can find out why his previous relationships went wrong, she might be able to stop the same thing happening to her. Because of her pregnancy, the clock is ticking, and you’ll have to read the book to see if she’s successful. But don’t forget that theme: The Truth isn’t always what you think it is.
In the run up to the online launch party for Taming Tom Jones, I’ve discovered a fun quiz to determine whether you – or someone you know – is going through a midlife crisis. Here’s a link for you to try it. http://www.gotoquiz.com/midlife_crisis_quiz
If you’d like to join the online launch party, it starts today at 1.30pm, and it would be lovely to see you there! Here’s your invitation. https://www.facebook.com/events/914730098613670/
To buy link, Amazon.co.uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Taming-Tom-Jones-Margaret-Johnson-ebook/dp/B015CZI7QG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1442985598&sr=8-1&keywords=taming+tom+jones
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/577133
Blurb, Taming Tom Jones
Jen’s partner Michael has never been in a relationship for more than four years, so with their fourth anniversary coming up, she’s getting understandably nervous. Especially as she’s just discovered she’s pregnant, and she knows Michael doesn’t want any more children other than Kyle, his teenage son.
She means to tell Michael about the baby right away, but then he comes home on a brand new motorbike, having traded in his sensible car, and the moment is lost. Is Michael having an early mid-life crisis?
Jen decides to do some detective work about Michael’s exes in an effort to save their relationship, and embarks on a journey that will take her as far afield as North Norfolk and Cuba. But she has no idea of the can of worms she’s about to open.
Why do all Michael’s relationships break up? And what’s the big secret he’s hiding?
Author Bio Margaret K Johnson began writing after finishing at Art College to support her career as an artist. Writing quickly replaced painting as her major passion, and these days her canvasses lay neglected in her studio. She is the author of women’s fiction, stage plays and many original fiction readers in various genres for people learning to speak English. Margaret also teaches fiction writing and has an MA in Creative Writing (Scriptwriting) from the University of East Anglia. She lives in Norwich, UK with her partner and their bouncy son and dog.
September 29, 2015
Introducing Lucy Deslandes and ‘Bruised Banana’
A big warm welcome to fellow Brighton author, Lucy Deslandes, who has just published her debut book, Bruised Banana – a trip into a world beyond our world, full of charm and magic realism. Described as ‘fantastic, compelling and totally mind-spangling’, here she shares the first chapter and tells us what inspired her to write it. Sit back with a cuppa and enjoy the read. We’re sure to see a lot more of Lucy over the coming years. Take it away, Lucy…
Talk about the book(s) you’ve written. What was the first seed of an idea you had for your book? How did it develop?
I have written several short stories, but Bruised Banana is my first published work. The idea of the book came to me whilst I was on my writing course at Sussex University. Every week we were set a new task to interpret Greek Mythology stories into our own. It was great fun. It was around that time that I formed a character called Marah. She was very dark – a tortured soul and I felt her mourning. The physical image of her came from one of my paintings. I had previously been a foundation course at Brighton City College. The lady in the dress was a widow, she was in a collection of women I had drawn and stitched for the end of year show. My theme was about ‘Love’ and these six women were all on different journeys. I attached a piece of writing about each of them and put a belonging of theirs in a glass box. Marah the widow had a tiny wooden coffin tied up with string. It was meant to symbolize her sealed love. She was never going to love again. When the chance came up to write about her, I let go and she led me. I had no idea where it would take me and then I found Kat.
How would you describe your writing process? Do you outline? Let the muse lead you? Or something else?
My writing process is free. I can’t think ahead. I’ve been writing short stories like this for years. The ideas come to me in the process. When the characters form, they really come alive and then they start playing tricks.
How has writing this book changed you?
I feel like I lived another life writing this book. I’ve gone on the journey with these people. I can’t help but love them. Just as well because they wont leave my head. And that has changed me.
How do you handle major rewrites?
Rewrites! Ha ha… big challenge. I had a great editor and if and when she requested a rewrite – I did it. I wiped out thousands of words, pages in blocks, including the material I loved – but I trusted her. If I didn’t have the confidence in her I wouldn’t have changed anything.
What do you keep in mind as you write? An overarching question? A theme? The last line of the book?
The last line of the book – I like to add surprise. Plots unravel at the end and then I stir it all up and expose them. The lovers, the liars and the saints all have their finale.
Is there an aspect of writing that you favor over others, e.g. dialogue, exposition, description of a scene, setting, or character, etc.? Is there one that is more difficult for you?
I favor scene writes any time. I find the backdrop easy. Dialogue is fun but it can take hours just to get a few good sentences. I work hard thinking how my characters move and express their tension.
Tell us about the funniest/craziest/most interesting thing that has happened to you as a writer.
Lots of funny and weird things happy to me, I think I attract it. Once when I was sketching in a ‘life class’ my art teacher moved me to the front of the studio, thinking I would get a better view of the model. I had been at the back of the class for very good reason – the model – a man- really was quite beautiful. When I shuffled to the front all pink faced, I was squashed in a tiny space and had to perch below the model. I couldn’t look up and draw his ‘thing’ because he kept looking down and smiling at me.
What is the best piece of advice about writing that you ever got or read? What would tell aspiring writers today?
Best advise with writing: when you’ve finished some work that you think is done, leave it. Shut it in a drawer and then in a month take it out. Read it with fresh eyes. Advice to aspiring writers: write and keep going. If you believe in yourself and you have the dedication then you can do it. You might write a chapter in twenty minutes and then another in a month, but stick to it. Make the time. Have a bond with your characters and they will call you to work.
Bruised Banana – Chapter One
I wait for my sister to stop reading her emails from my laptop. She scans the screen as she talks to me, in short cut sentences, half listening. It begins to annoy me. I’m dying to bite in and say something like, ‘Can you stop checking your fucking Facebook?’
But instead I say, “Do you want another coffee?”
She doesn’t look up. She’s frowning at her phone, watching it pulsate in her hand. It has rung like this several times.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” I say.
She shakes her head. “I’m not in the mood to speak to him right now.”
“Who’s him?” I ask, peering over at the photo on her phone screen.
“Tim Rogers.” She blows out a short breath. “He’s called me five times already.”
He’s wearing a polo shirt. My sister has a type. “Maybe it’s urgent?”
She looks down at his flashing picture before cutting him off.
I ask, “Is he the guy from your office party?”
She twists to look at me. “No, not Tony. He’s long gone. I met Tim at the film festival.”
I stand there thinking: Tony and Tim.
Then she taps my leg. “Are you going to make that coffee?”
But I’m thinking. “Hang on. Didn’t you go to Cannes with an old film director?” I snap my fingers, trying to remember. “With the Greek one. Bald headed…”
“Stavi, yes.”
“Yes. Stavros. Tubby. You called him cuddly.” I refill the kettle with water and click it on. “Didn’t he have a problem? Couldn’t get it up or something?”
“God, did I tell you that?”
I nod.
“But I didn’t tell you about my Timmy adventures?”
“No,” I breathe and feel the knots start in my stomach.
“We met in the elevator.” She looks at me with her cat-green eyes. “We went up and down the lift for twenty minutes.”
I have visions of the door opening and closing and my sister’s short dress hitched up over her thighs.
Freda’s neck starts to break out in red patches. “But Mr Timmy didn’t tell me he was married.”
“Oh!” I say, dropping the lid off the coffee.
She sighs. “My luck to meet another bored, married man.”
I cut in. “Another?”
“But I do feel quite sorry for him. His wife… she’s a bit weird – she doesn’t like sex and she collects weird dolls. I’ve seen them all in their packets. It’s like a creepy girls bedroom. Tim said it’s getting too much now, she’s taking over the house. Oh that reminds me–”
“What?”
“Do you still see that therapist?”
“Yes… why?”
“I was thinking I could give Tim the number number.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“No, for her. His wife?”
“Bloody hell, Freda, why do you think she needs a therapist?”
“Oh come on. Do you think it’s normal, a grown woman collecting dolls?”
My sister frowns.
I ask, “How old is she?”
“Same age as him… thirty four, I think.”
I say, “Maybe she wants a baby.”
“Well I can tell you, he doesn’t.” Freda rolls her eyes at me. “Where’s this coffee?”
“I’m on it,” I say. “So what are you and Mr Timmy going to do?” My voice sounds deliberately patronising.
Freda opens her make-up bag and takes out a mirror, she checks her lashes. “Oh God… well I don’t have visions of a future with him. I’m certainly not folding his pants away.”
I had folded Eddy’s pants away this morning. I came across a new pair. They were red. Expensive. Support your crotch type. I pause for a moment, thinking about them. I drop two heaped spoons of coffee in each cup, add the water, and put the mugs on the tray with the biscuits.
I bring them over and sit back down. Freda takes her mug and picks out a chunky biscuit from the tin. “Have you been baking?”
“No, your lovely daughters made these.”
She tests the edge of the biscuit with her tongue.
“Ginger, treacle, marmalade, mint and chocolate chips.” I inform her.
She pulls a face. “Is that why you saved them for me?”
“They’re actually quite nice.”
She bites in reluctantly. “My girls are weird.”
I look at her mouth plunge round the biscuit and I ask: “Where do you do it? You and Tim?”
She stops the biscuit from flying out her mouth. “Seriously, Kat?”
I shuffle on my chair. “Yeah?”
“Well…” She takes another bite. “His place, my place. It depends on how randy we’re feeling, sometimes we have to stop in the car.” The thrill in her voice stops. “He wants to tell his wife about me.”
I look at her stricken face. “Okay…and that’s not good?”
“No, not at all. Have you got a cigarette?”
I shake my head. But I know I have.
Freda digs her hand inside her bag. Her pretty freckled face is smoothed over by her foundation, but she has missed a bit around her neck. She sighs, “I thought I had a packet on me.”
“Okay,” I say, standing up. “I have some in my emergency pack.”
I walk to the drinks cabinet and reach my hand behind the door, locating the packet. There are three cigarettes tucked inside, along with my pink neon lighter.
“I knew not to throw them away.” I hold them up triumphantly and open the French doors to waft out our smoke. I see the birdhouse has fallen down, spilling all the seed. Brown birds are pecking on the grass.
I light two cigarettes, sit down and hand one to Freda.
“You’re good at these things,” she says, as she exhales a puff of smoke. “What should I do?”
“Well, do you like him enough to break up a marriage?”
“No!”
“You have to walk away then.”
Freda sits up. “But it’s not just him.”
I wave my smoke away. “What do you mean?”
She takes a deep drag on her cigarette. “I’ve been naughty.”
I stretch the saucer to her as an ashtray.
She takes it. “I have to stop.” She flicks her ash. “I’m not nice.” She looks out the window. “I need to tidy up my life.”
“So, it’s not just Tim?”
“Tim’s one of the easier ones.”
When her phone vibrates on the counter, we both look at the flashing photo. She cuts him off.
She takes another drag on her cigarette and then puts it out.
I squash mine out too, into the ash.
Freda sighs. She gets up and washes her hands at the sink, running the water from the purifier tap. She looks at me – changing the subject now. “Are you getting out of your bed clothes today?” She wipes her hands on the back of a towel. “You need to get out of that manky tracksuit, and get your hair sorted. Even Eddy said it’s a mess.”
“Eddy…when did he say that?”
“I saw him yesterday.”
“Did you? Where?”
“Outside my hairdressers. Didn’t he tell you?”
I shake my head.
“It was brief, darling. He beeped me. We only had a quick chat.”
“Was he in Putney then?”
She nods.
“That’s strange. He said he was in the office all day.”
Freda flicks her nails testing their strength. “He probably had a quick meeting.” Her eyes spy on a biscuit crumb on my top. She takes the tea towel and flicks it off. “Look why don’t you make yourself look nice. Get out of this house. Put some heels on?”
I look at her in her killer heels. “Your skirt’s a bit short.”
She glances down at her bare brown legs. “I’m just showing off my best features.”
I fold my arms.
“Oh, stop it, just because you dress like a bag lady. You never used to be like this.”
“But that skirts not even meant to be high wasted.”
She laughs. Then edging closer to me, she points her finger under my nose. “You’ve grown a tash.”
I tap my finger over my lip. “Have I?”
“Hon, don’t give me that. You’ve tried to bleach it.”
I feel the soft downy hairs. “Is it obvious?”
“Yes. Bloody wax it off. ” She looks me up and down – I know it’s coming. “Kat, when was the last time, you went out? And had some fun?”
I look at her blankly.
“You’ll lose him… if you don’t do something about it.” The red rash appears around her collar. I know what she’s going to say and l watch the birds fly away outside. I hear her velvety soothing voice. It starts with my name. There’s a pattern to it, like Morse code, where her words tap and pause with her breath, and then there’s a raise in her voice. It pitches to a higher frequency when she mentions words like hospital, baby, and death. I feel the cold and oily memories. I blink back the tears.
Freda places her hand on mine. “You have to stop punishing yourself and start to live your life.”
My voice cracks. “I try.”
I look at her lips move. “Don’t you think shutting yourself away, makes things worse? I stare at her. Even her freckles look beautiful. “You, are blessed Kat. You don’t need to worry about money and you have a beautiful house, and a man that supports you. And you still look gorgeous in a manky tracksuit.”
I well up even more. “And I can fold pants.”
“And you’re good at folding pants.” Freda’s teeth look so white.
I wipe my sleeve across my face. Hot tears sting up my nose. More tears come.
Freda fetches some kitchen roll. She tears off a big sheet for me to wipe my eyes.
I dab my face. “It’s alright for you,” I muffle under my tissue. “You have a different life. You have your kids and your career and you travel. I feel like I have no focus.”
She steps back. “Darling, I have debts. I owe so much money. I work my arse off, to pay for my kids to go to a decent school. And the little fuckers don’t even like me.”
“Is that why you’re a sex addict?”
Her face crumples. “I was married to a man for fourteen years who didn’t even touch me, because he liked other men.”
“Sorry…” I sniff
She tidies a strand of blonde hair off her shoulder. “He sent us a postcard yesterday! He sends them to the girls, not me. He’s in Italy now. Rome. Can you believe it? He’s supposed to be broke… stupid arsehole.”
I sigh. “But you’re so strong?”
“I have to be.” She levels her eyes at me. “Now, are you going to be alright?”
I try to smile. “Yes.”
Then she clocks the time. “Shit!” She reaches for her bag and jacket off the chair.
I decide to share my news: “I’m off the medication.”
She mutters to herself. “What? Really…? Are you sure you should be off it?”
I nod. “I think it’s time too.”
She wipes her fringe back. “Okay, but if you start feeling funny or anything you will speak to me this time?”
“Yes, Yes.” I say, looking away, avoiding her penetrating stare.
Then she checks in her bag, but she has her car key in her hand already. It amuses me.
I ask, “Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting Mum, ” she says it quickly. “Do you want to come?”
“No.”
She tilts her head. “Dad’s coming.”
“Dad? How awkward is that going to be?” I know I sound bitter.
Freda’s, eyes narrow. “You know Mummy is desperate to see you, she only has another few days before she flies back. You’re just bloody attention seeking now.”
“Attention seeking… Really?”
She snaps at me now. “Pull yourself together.”
I follow her out into the hallway. Freda puts her hand on the latch and opens the door into the morning light. I watch her get into her silver sports car. She pulls her seat back and adjusts the mirror. The radio starts and she clicks on her belt. As she reverses out of the drive- way, I wave pointlessly from the doorstep, until she is out of sight. Then I close the door. The house feels quiet now. I climb up the stairs with my hand on the banister – the wood feels smooth. I need to have a shower to wash her off me.
Amazon UK http://tinyurl.com/p6m988r
Amazon US http://tinyurl.com/pkpbvwp
Lucy on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lucinda.desl...
September 25, 2015
Father of Lies – Sarah England – Horror at its Best!
‘Father of Lies’ by Sarah England debuts today on Amazon. A horror in the true sense of the word, this book even comes with a warning! I, for one, however, am immensely looking forward to getting stuck in. I have a feeling this is going to be something of a bestseller! Here Sarah tells us about what inspired her to write it, gives us a synopsis of what it’s all about and an excerpt too. There are buy links at the end of the post if you fancy reading more. Over to you, Sarah…
This book is a culmination of many factors – firstly I originally trained as a nurse and then went to work as a medical rep, eventually specialising in mental health, so much of the medical angle comes from my own background. As part of my my job I worked closely with the psychiatrists treating schizophrenia and depressive illnesses, setting up workshops and conferences, analysing clinical papers and taking a keen interest in the subject area. After I retired from the pharmaceutical industry, I spent over a decade writing fiction – mostly short stories and serials for magazines, but also one novel and a collection of thrillers; and so, when I met a lady who suffered from what used to be called multiple personality disorder (now called Disassociative Identity Disorder), I felt it all came together and was compelled to write, ‘Father of Lies’. Around 90% of cases of DID are attributable to child abuse, and thus, although there is nothing graphic in the novel, there has to be a start – a reason – for my main character, Ruby, to be the way she is. Sadly and shockingly, this still goes on today, and that’s why I describe the root cause as the heart of darkness. I hope that, by looking at the consequences of such evil, a strong message will come across – that we cannot turn a blind eye to what happens to thousands of children around the world, with the resulting damage to both individuals and society. That was the point of writing this book, which also, of course, is designed to scare the reader witless!
Synopsis*
Ruby is the most aggressive and unresponsive psychiatric patient ever to be treated at Drummersgate secure forensic unit, situated on the bleak Derbyshire moors.
Admitted nearly two years ago following attempted murder in an isolated mining village, Ruby appears to have no family and no identity. No one knows who the violently troubled twenty-seven year old is, least of all Ruby herself.
Family man, Jack McGowan, Medical Director and Consultant Psychiatrist, decides to try something radical in order to discover the root of her trauma. The staff are exhausted and agree to his idea – using hypnosis in conjunction with LSD.
The results are catastrophic. For Jack. His team. And his family.
However, Ruby makes a miraculous recovery – now displaying clear symptoms of Dissociative Identity Disorder, which involves switching from one deeply disturbing character to another. Jack had planned to be able to treat her at this stage. Instead, he’s suffering from a bizarre type of mental breakdown – rushing around giggling to himself, cancelling his own appointments before turning up for them, and having horrific nightmares. At least he thought they were nightmares – but as the darkness takes on a pulsating, breathing life of its own, he’s no longer sure.
Specialist Registrar, Claire Airy, contacts D.I.D. expert in Leeds, Dr. Kristy Silver. Kristy has a client with an almost identical profile to Ruby in Leeds – a client who grew up in Woodsend, the same mining village in which Ruby attempted murder. Perhaps there is a connection? Kristy decides to investigate further with a proposed visit to Ruby; and on the way home that evening she decides to visit Woodsend.
From that point on, unnerving events escalate: Kristy has an unwanted, gruesome passenger in her car; back at the hospital Jack has barricaded himself inside his office; and Becky the ward sister, has a sudden and violent accident.
Every mental health professional involved in the case then goes on to experience some kind of inexplicable and de-stabilising incident, and soon a terrifying picture begins to unfold. One which challenges the very fabric of society, and those in whom we put our trust. One which leads us directly back to the heart of darkness, and the Father of Lies.
Excerpt from Father of Lies:
The journey home was a blur of shock. Kristy gripped the steering wheel with ice-numb fingers. Her heart pulsed through her body in thick, sickly waves. Everything was so much worse than she’d feared. The whole visit had been on a whim, a hunch, curiosity…call it what you will, but now…now it was like having walked through the back of a wardrobe into a fairytale horror and not being able to get home again. Something was very, very wrong in Woodsend.
She turned up the heater and flicked on all the lights because at this speed no one would see her coming. The Audi powered at 80 mph through thick, grey fog, driven by a woman with the devil on her back.
On either side, the waterlogged moors seeped darkly. As if in wait for that second’s loss of concentration, a swerving of the wheel, a screech of tyres, and the sucking of metal drowning in the bog.
Squinting into the mist, her eyes flicked to the lit dashboard – how odd – that’s what she thought – the temperature was dropping rapidly. Why? The car had just been serviced. Her breath steamed on the air. Muscles rigid. She wriggled her toes – no, nothing – no warmth from the engine at all. There should have been heat surging through by now. Instead it was getting colder than it was outside. Freezing, in fact.
A creeping awareness was how it started, she recalled later – as she lay awake night after night trying to understand, to rationalise what happened next – a musty smell like unwashed clothes on an unwashed body; a sigh of sour breath on the side of her face; a feeling that someone or something, was on the passenger seat beside her, waiting for her to take her eyes off the road and look round. No, not waiting – willing her to…
A shape. Growing. The sound of salivating, raspy breathing. Like a very old man smacking his gums, drawing air from diseased lungs.
Kristy concentrated hard on the road ahead. This was just fear talking. It had a hold on her mind. Focus on the job in hand – on driving safely home – reduce speed and don’t take your eyes off the road for a moment…The car’s headlights reflected their own swirling white light. A fragment of memory – being in a plane – engines humming in a blanket of grey over the North Sea – the unrelenting aborted landings, one after the other, and being unable to see a damn thing. Then suddenly the tarmac and a crack, a bounce, and the relief of touching ground. Soon the lights of town would be ahead and the fog would lift.
But someone really is in the passenger seat.
The strength of presence grew, along with the irresistible desire to turn and see who it was.
A smell – putrid now, decaying, salty blood and sulphur – permeated the air.
Keep looking ahead at the road – each millisecond more is another moment of life….don’t look around…don’t look…
The presence was squelching – shape-shifting – into a recognisable form. Kristy’s side vision deciphered an old hag with ancient, tissue-thin skin and heavy, gnarled features. She knew the look in the woman’s eyes would be older than time itself, and if she met that look the car would go off the road in a heartbeat.
This was a journey she could never relate to another living soul. No one would believe her. Imagine trying to describe it at a dinner party – a few shudders, some more wine-pouring, meaningful glances exchanged – another psychiatrist having a breakdown…Especially since most of her friends were doctors. Well, all of them. How terrible to be thought mad when you were supposed to be saner than sane. To experience what seems real but cannot be. To have to lock all this inside because you can never tell.
Lock what inside? What was this?
The temptation to look at her passenger grew stronger with every passing second, the pull like a magnet.
Don’t look round – whatever you do, Kristy – do not look…
That voice – it was her late father’s…
And then the sharp descent began. The Audi’s headlights picked out the rear-lights of a truck. The belt of fog broke, and ahead lay the metropolis – a basin lit with yellow lights.
The temperature shot up. And the presence evaporated.
***
Real fear. Well if that’s what she’d gone to find, that’s what she’d got.
She parked, locked up and then quickly ran up the steps to her apartment block, not daring to look over her shoulder. On entering, she walked briskly from room to room switching on all the lights, then poured herself a double scotch from the bottle kept only for Christmas.
And then another.
Sarah’s Bio
Sarah qualified as an RGN in Sheffield before working for nearly 20 years in medical sales and marketing. She has been a fiction writer for magazines for over 10 years now and has a comedy novel – ‘Expected’ – and a collection of 25 tales from the dark side of life – ‘3am and Wide Awake’ – also available in digital and paperback form on amazon. All three books are now either newly published or re-published on EchoWords – her own company, which also offers proofreading services. http://www.echowords.org
*’Father of Lies’ is a supernatural horror novel with content which some readers may find very disturbing, and possibly offensive.
Amazon UK: http://tinyurl.com/oakg7yr
Amazon US: http://tinyurl.com/nc288rp
You can also find Sarah on:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SarahEngland4?fref=ts
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SarahEngland16
August 10, 2015
Flight of fancy anyone? Nancy Jardine on the Blog…
Thanks for inviting me today, Shani—it’s really lovely to visit you in your part of the blog sphere. I’d love to actually be there in the sunny south of England with you but life gets in the way of my real travel experiences just now. Regular grandkid minding means I’m not able to take off on too many jaunts and my travel becomes virtual via the internet, DVD or TV. Sometimes it’s from reflected memories or at other times entirely imaginary.
I’m pleased to say, though, that in my writing I’ve been able to fly off to some wonderful places.
When I’m writing my Celtic Fervour Series of historical novels (published by Crooked Cat), set in the bygone era of late first century AD, I have to imagine what the locations and landscapes were like almost 2000 years ago in northern Britain. Yorkshire, Cumbria, Northumberland and Scotland have changed quite a bit since then but I’ve had to base my visions on the fact that the actual land contours won’t have changed too much. Picturing some of the scenes I’ve described in these novels has meant a trip down a reflected memory route for me as I revisit holiday trips to the locations just mentioned. Since reviews of my historical work are complimentary about my realistic depictions, I’m delighted that I’m successful for those readers.
In my contemporary thriller work, it’s been much, much easier to describe locations.
I loved choosing the places to send my characters to in my contemporary mystery thriller Take Me Now, places I’ve personally loved visiting. Garvald Castle on the island of Lanera, the main base for Nairn Malcolm and Aela Cameron, is entirely fictitious but the setting is created from memories of my visits to the islands off the west coast of Scotland, the whole plot having been conceived after I’d experienced a fabulously exciting seaplane flight from Glasgow to Oban.
Other locations my characters visit in Take Me Now were brilliant to describe— Barcelona, Paris and Tallinn in Estonia, Oman, and The Caribbean—though the depths of the details vary according to their purpose in the plot. Barcelona is a city of such contrasting architecture: it provided me with many exciting moments. I couldn’t believe how amazing the Casa Batlo balconies were- so like masquerade masks and to think they were created more than a century ago! I love my photos of the building. I was desperate to write at length about some of those fantastic buildings but only a few could be written into the novel. Oman, on the other hand, is so different from European cities and Muscat in the dusk is breathtaking. I’ve only been to Cuba in the Caribbean but the scents and plants and clear green-blue sea are so memorable. Who wouldn’t want to use such lovely memories in their writing?
I’ve asked a few of my readers to decide which locations in my contemporary novels are the ones that I haven’t actually been to. Would your readers be able to tell me, I wonder?
Do you like to read about lovely settings in novels?
Shani—Thanks for having me fly down today…
Bio:
Nancy Jardine writes historical romantic adventures (Celtic Fervour Series); contemporary mystery thrillers (Take Me Now, Monogamy Twist, Topaz Eyes-finalist for THE PEOPLE’S BOOK PRIZE 2014); & time-travel historical adventures for Teen/ YA readers. All historical eras are enticing and ancestry research a lovely time-suck. She regularly blogs and loves to have guests visit her blog. Facebook is a habit she’s trying to keep within reasonable bounds. Grandchild-minding takes up a few (very long) days every week and any time left is for reading and writing.
Find Nancy at the following places
Blog: http://nancyjardine.blogspot.com Website: http://nancyjardineauthor.com
Facebook
LinkedIN
About Me
Goodreads Twitter @nansjar Google+ (Nancy Jardine) YouTube book trailer videos Amazon UK author page Rubidium Time Travel Series on Facebook http://on.fb.me/XeQdkG
August 3, 2015
Love, Loss and Location – Jessamine
Jessamine was released by Crooked Cat Publishing on the 9th December 2014 – but what’s it all about? The blog title sums it up pretty well. It’s about love, loss and location, but it’s also about being haunted by the ghosts of the past. Yep, Jessamine is supernatural but subtly so.
First up, the location – it’s set in the misty, mysterious highlands of Scotland, in a fictional village called Glenelk, on the west coast of Scotland, overlooking the Isle of Skye. A bleak but beautiful place, it suits the story’s mood perfectly.
Next is love – the force that drives our lives. But we’re not just talking romantic love here, we’re talking about the love that exists between friends and family, that spawns loyalty and the need to protect, about ties that bind through generations. But what happens when that which we love the most is lost? How do we cope with the grief that ensues?
The tagline for Jessamine is:
One village, four people and the ghosts of generations.
All four characters – Jessamin, Fionnlagh Maccaillin, Maggie and Stan – are haunted in one way or another. Having come together from opposite ends of the country, what is the mystery that unites them? Can they help each to move on and, if not let the past go, at least find some way of living with it?
An emotional rollercoaster, I’m very proud of Jessamine. Yes, it’s dark and ghostly, but it’s very human too. As for tissues? I recommend you get yourself a box on stand-by!
To whet your appetite, here’s a short excerpt:
His anguish concerned her. “Stan…”
“Och, don’t mind me. I’m getting maudlin is all.”
“Stan, how could you think I’d mind? Of course I don’t.”
Furtively, she studied his face. He seemed so tired of late. The cough he’d developed was wearing him down. Into the lines of his face, his entire life seemed etched – a good life at times she knew but also painful, like any long life. No one sailed through the years unscathed. She felt bad she’d mentioned Flo’s death, Mally’s leaving again; there was no need to wallow in sadness and she said as much.
“You’re right, dear. Concentrate on happy times. Why not? We can’t go back. We can’t change things.”
If only we could.
“And when the sun is shining, it’s an easy thing to do. But, and I expect you know this as well as I do, it’s the dead of night you have to watch out for, when the wind is howling, when the rain pelts relentlessly against your bedroom window, when sleep refuses to indulge you. That’s when the bad memories rear up, when they demand their fair share of attention too.” He shuddered. “The dead of night, it’s an accurate description.”
Jessamin turned to face the old man fully. “Stan, you’re worrying me.”
“No, dear, there’s no need to worry.”
“Despite what I said about concentrating on the good stuff, you can tell me anything, you know that don’t you? Whatever it is… I’m here for you. I’m on your side.”
There were tears in his eyes. Quickly, Jessamin reached out a hand to comfort him. He took it, his grip surprisingly firm – desperation lending him strength perhaps. Her breath caught in her throat. What was he going to say? What had upset him so much?
When at last he spoke, his words chilled her.
“The dead of night, Jess, I wish they’d leave me alone.”
Jessamine is currently on sale for 99p from Amazon – now’s a great time to download it, saving it perhaps for those long winter nights – we all know they’re on the way – when you’re sat by the fire, a wee nip of something by your side. Here’s the links:
Aus http://tinyurl.com/nmrswdg
Canada http://tinyurl.com/q28tga6
July 24, 2015
The Latest from Zanna!
And it’s a big, warm welcome to the lovely Zanna Mackenzie today – thanks for appearing on my blog. Zanna is the author of some of my favourite light, romantic reads and here she’s offering us an except of her latest book – On Trial – No.5 in the Amber Reed Mystery series. It’s currently on offer at 99p at the moment on Amazon so grab a coffee, pull up a chair and enjoy. Scroll down for buy links.
On Trial – An Amber Reed Mystery
“Romantic comedy meets celebrity cozy mystery”
Standing between Amber and her chance at getting a dream job with the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency (CCIA) is one final challenge, just one last critical assignment.
Her task?
Whisked away to a luxury hotel where the rich and famous are frequent guests, she has only 24 hours to track down who kidnapped the bride-to-be moments before her celebrity wedding.
The case may be a pretend one, a test of her recently acquired investigative skills, but the stakes are still high.
An exciting new life, career and the chance to work alongside her CCIA special agent boyfriend Charlie are all tantalizingly close…but can she remember everything she’s learnt, manage to keep her head, and solve the case before the deadline?
A cozy mystery series with oodles of fun, romance and the smart, sassy special agents from the CCIA – otherwise known as the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency. Books 1, 2 and 3 in the series are available now. Coming soon – Amber Reed Mystery Book 4, due autumn 2015.
Universal buy link for On Trial:
And here’s an excerpt:
“You’re ready.”
I struggle to catch my breath. Tucking a strand of sweaty strawberry blonde hair behind my ear I gasp, “You’re sure?”
James, my agency trainer and mentor, nods and smiles. “Yep. I’m sure.”
When I signed up for the chance to become a support officer for the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency (otherwise known as the CCIA) I knew my apprenticeship would be tough. I’ve fought to put aside the aching limbs, lack of sleep and mental demands of these past few months and keep my eyes firmly on the prize – my dream job.
If I do manage to complete my apprenticeship, and still be alive at the end of all of this, then hopefully the agency will offer me a job as a support officer. Right now though, I’m wondering if James is right. Am I really ready for the next stage of my training? It doesn’t feel like it. Despite all the efforts to build up my fitness I’m still gasping and out of breath after facing the assault course from hell. I have to confess, I didn’t realise throwing myself into muddy ditches, climbing trees and being abandoned in the middle of nowhere with just a map, compass and bottle of water would be the type of assignments I’d be put through. I mean, I’m applying to be a support officer, not a special agent. But as James pointed out, if I get this job I will work alongside agents, and where they go in order to solve a case, then so do I.
The steady beat of helicopter blades makes me shield my eyes and peer into the skies above the hundreds of acres of woodland, moor and hills which surround agency training camp.
“That’s our lift,” James says, gesturing towards the helicopter now coming in to land in the field just across from us. “You’ve got ten minutes to pack your stuff and meet me back here. This will be your final challenge. Fail this one and you’ll be on your way home with no job.”
Nerves and anxiety bubble up inside of me. This is it. My last chance to prove myself. My last training exercise. Whatever I am about to face will determine my life from this point on. “Only ten minutes? Where are we going anyway?” I shout above the sound of the sinister-looking black helicopter.
“Yes, you’ve only got ten minutes, so you’d better get a move on,” James shouts back. “I’ll explain later where we’re going and why.”
I sprint for my cell-like bedroom in the training block and throw clothes, toiletries and my How To Be A Support Officer course folder and notes into my suitcase. As I tug the case down the hallways, dashing back to meet James, my mind is whirling. What will my assignment be? Where will it be? What if I fail?
James is waiting for me with his holdall slung over one shoulder. “OK, Amber. Let’s get this show on the road. Well, I suppose in this case I should say let’s get this case up in the air instead!” He laughs and nods towards the helicopter. “After you.”
I step forward but stop as James tugs gently at my arm. “You can do this, Amber. Just remember everything you’ve learned these past few months.”
“Everything?” I gulp. “That’s a lot of stuff to remember.”
James winks then pushes me forward, placing a hand on top of my head to indicate I need to stay well below the blades of the helicopter which are now powering up, ready for take-off. Clambering into my seat I fasten my seatbelt. My stomach is in knots. I’ve never flown in a helicopter before and I’m feeling a tad nauseous as we lift off. The land drops away below us and we soar over the forests and hills, off to goodness knows where.
“Hey,” a voice says to the right of me. “I’m Mitch.”
Caught up in what’s going on, I hadn’t even registered the fact there are two other people sitting beside me. Some support officer I’ll make. I definitely need to get to grips with being more observant. I also need to remember absolutely everything I’ve had drilled into my mind during training as well. Not an easy task. If I fail this assignment everything I’ve gone through so far will be for nothing. Plus, I’ll never get to work with Charlie. I need to do this, and I need to do it right.
About Zanna
Zanna Mackenzie lives on the Derbyshire/Leicestershire border in the UK with her husband, 4 dogs, a vegetable patch that’s home to far too many weeds and an ever expanding library of books waiting to be read.
Being a freelance writer and editor of business publications is her ‘day job’ but, at every opportunity, she can be found scribbling down notes on scenes for whatever novel she’s working on. She loves it when the characters in her novels take on minds of their own and start deviating from the original plot!
Find out more about Zanna on her blog http://www.zannamackenzie.blogspot.co.uk, on Twitter via @ZannaMacKenzie or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/zanna.mackenzie
July 18, 2015
The Return – FREE for the Weekend
In celebration of the summer – and yep, it’s a scorcher outside today – The Return is FREE on Amazon worldwide this weekend. It’s the third in the Runaway series – there’s also The Runaway Year and The Runaway Ex – but have no fear, it can be read as a standalone too. If you’re heading off on holiday, take me with you, or at the very least a copy of The Return! Described as a ‘beautifully rendered tale of mourning and moving on‘ it also ‘deals with an emotional subject in a balanced way. There are tears but laughter too.’
The book has also been applauded for it’s unusual heroine – Isabella – who bucks the usual trend in romance books and is honest and upfront about her feelings towards love interest, Aiden, from the get go. It’s a careful line she has to tread, however, as he’s still in mourning from the loss of his wife, two years earlier. She also has his sister-in-law to contend with, Leo, who finds Aiden’s return from his native Australia unsettling too.
So, if it’s ‘emotional fireworks in stunning North Cornwall‘ you fancy a bit of whilst lying under those blue skies, now’s the time to get a copy.
Here’s what it’s all about, a few teasers and Amazon links at the end.
Enjoy the read, folks!
When worlds collide…
Two years ago death drove Aiden Taylor from UK shores and now death has drawn him back. Mourning the loss of his wife, he is returning to bury his father-in-law and support the remaining members of her family – her mother, Lily and sister, Leo.
Coming home on the same plane is Isabella, enthusiastic and with a zest for life, she is in many ways the opposite of him. Realising his history, she tries to fight the instant attraction she feels but her thoughts linger long after they’ve landed.
Leo is distraught – she’s lost her sister and her beloved father too. Her boyfriend Damien should be a comfort but he is far from it. Instead, it is Aiden she increasingly comes to rely on. In grief they understand each other.
Unable to forget her encounter with the ‘perfect stranger’, Isabella heads to Cornwall to track him down but, as three worlds collide, tragedy threatens to strike again…
Cover by Jane-Dixon Smith and editing by Jeff Gardiner. Teasers by Tracy Smith Comerford.
Aus: http://tinyurl.com/q9kapta
Can: http://preview.tinyurl.com/pylklho
July 3, 2015
Join the Revolution!
Today, Tim Taylor joins me on my blog to talk about his latest release, Revolution Day. Always one for a bit of anarchy, I’m looking forward to finding out what it’s all about. Tim, take it away…
Hello, Shani! Thank you for inviting me onto your blog to talk about my novel, Revolution Day, published on 30 June by Crooked Cat.
Revolution Day, my second novel, follows a year in the life of Latin American dictator, Carlos Almanzor (my first, Zeus of Ithome, is a historical novel set in ancient Greece). Now in his seventies, Carlos is feeling his age and seeing enemies around every corner. And with good reason: his Vice-President, Manuel Jimenez, though outwardly loyal, is burning with frustration at his subordinate position.
Carlos’ estranged and imprisoned wife Juanita is writing a memoir in which she recalls the revolution that brought him to power and how, once a liberal idealist, he changed over time into an autocrat and embraced repression as the means of sustaining his position.
When Manuel’s attempts to increase his profile are met with humiliating rejection, he resolves to take action. As he moves to undermine Carlos’s position and make his own bid for power, both Juanita and Carlos’ mistress Corazon will find themselves unwittingly drawn into his plans. In this excerpt Corazon (who sometimes visits nightclubs discreetly with her friends while Carlos is asleep) has an encounter which will later prove significant…
‘Corazon looked at her watch, her eyes straining in the dim light of the club. It was five past three. In less than three hours, Carlos would be awake. She should be going. She caught the barman’s eye and made the slightest of nods in the direction of the door. He gave a thumbs-up sign and punched a short message into a mobile phone.
“Ines, Carmelita, it’s time for me to leave.”
Though the small room in which they sat was away from the dance floor, the electronic bass beat was still more than loud enough to filter through the thin walls. Her friends, lost in their conversation, did not hear her and she had to tap Ines on the shoulder.
“I have to go,” she mimed, retrieving her short jacket from the back of her chair. Their faces assumed exaggerated expressions of sadness, and the three women exchanged hugs, planting the most fleeting of kisses deftly upon each other’s cheeks so as to leave no trace of lipstick.
The door opened and a man entered the room. This was not her usual driver: younger, taller, with slicked-back hair and dressed in a sharp black suit, he looked more like a guest than an employee of the club. Corazon gave the barman a puzzled look, but he smiled and beckoned her to come forward. She drained her glass and stood up, exchanging a second pair of hugs with Ines and Carmelita. At the bar she took from her handbag a little roll of banknotes and gave it to the barman, who nodded in thanks and gestured to her to follow the newcomer.
“This is Ramon,” he said, “our new driver. Angel has got himself a job with a different club. Don’t worry, he is discreet.” Ramon nodded and gave a little bow, then offered his hand. Corazon almost laughed at the formality of it, but nevertheless she grasped the hand and shook it. It was a large, heavy hand, that would not have been out of place in a wrestling ring, but it took hers with remarkable gentleness, as if handling a butterfly.’
If your readers are intrigued, they can find out more on my website and Facebook author page. Thanks again for hosting me, Shani!
Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/timtaylornovels
Website: http://www.tetaylor.co.uk/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/timetaylor1
Crooked Cat Author page: http://crookedcatpublishing.com/item/tim-e-taylor/
Revolution Day on Amazon.co.uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Revolution-Day-T-E-Taylor-ebook/dp/B0106GALR4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1435449288&sr=1-1&keywords=Revolution+Day
Bio
Tim Taylor was born in 1960 in Burslem, Stoke-on-Trent, UK. He grew up just outside the city in Brown Edge, then at the age of 11 moved to Longsdon, near Leek. Tim went to Newcastle-under-Lyme High School, then studied Classics at Pembroke College, Oxford. After graduating he moved to London and spent a couple of years playing guitar in a rock band. When it became clear that he was never going to be a rock star, he sadly knuckled down and joined the Civil Service, where he did a wide range of jobs before leaving in 2011 to spend more time writing. While still in the Civil Service Tim studied part time for a PhD in Philosophy at Birkbeck, University of London, achieving it in 2007.
Tim married Rosa Vella in 1994 and their daughter Helen was born in 1997. In 2001 they moved to Meltham, near Huddersfield, and have lived there ever since. Tim now divides his time between creative writing, academic research and part-time teaching and other work for Leeds and Huddersfield Universities.
Tim’s first novel, Zeus of Ithome (a finalist in the Chaucer Awards for historical fiction), was published by Crooked Cat in November 2013; his second, Revolution Day in June 2015. He has also published a non-fiction book, Knowing What is Good For You (Palgrave Macmillan 2012), on the philosophy of well-being. As well as novels, Tim writes poetry and the occasional short story. He also plays electric and acoustic guitar and a little piano, and likes to walk up hills.
June 22, 2015
Putting the ‘normal’ into the Paranormal
Psychic Surveys
Horror is my favourite genre – it always has been, always will be, but it can become tiresome. The reason? Horror is often dealt with by authors and filmmakers gratuitously – therefore, the gorier, the more outrageous, the more ‘in your face’ the material, the better. Well, yeah, every now and then, one of those is fun but I thought it was time for something a little more down-to-earth. And before you scream ‘but surely that defeats the object’ – I don’t think it does.
For me, the best ghost stories are the ones that deal with the spiritual world more subtly. The Haunting with Claire Bloom is a great example – all through the film the suspense is built but you don’t actually see anything frightening – it’s all left to the imagination, and mine ran riot after that one! The Woman in Black by Susan Hill, not the film but the book, was also very subtle, building suspense beautifully right up until the end. The Others with Nicole Kidman springs to mind too, which relied on a good story rather than effects.
Inspired by these I wanted to write a paranormal that largely dispenses with theatrics and relies on characterisation, plot and mystery instead. Ruby Davis, who owns Psychic Surveys, a high street consultancy specialising in domestic spiritual clearance, is young, modern and accessible. She doesn’t go round in tie-dye clothes or smelling of incense, she wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. It’s only her job that’s out of the ordinary – to make contact with grounded spirits in your home (ghosts to the layman!) and encourage them towards the light – or ‘home’ as she and her team call it. Her team, too, are down-to-earth, there is the young and vibrant Corinna (a sensitive rather than a psychic) and more mature ladies, Theo and Ness, the latter who also works as a psychic for Sussex Police and Brighton and Hove Council. Throw in IT Consultant, Cash Wilks and an attachment in the shape of ghost dog, Jed, and you’ve got the dream team. Keenly aware of how people feel towards ‘psychics’ – sceptical at best, frightened at worst, they deal with ‘assignments’ in a no-nonsense and practical way – charging a sliding scale of fees depending on the client and the problem.
Their reputation is spreading, largely via word-of-mouth, and cases come flooding in. The team may want to play it cool, sometimes, however, the ghosts don’t…
Psychic Surveys Book One: The Haunting of Highdown Hall available on Amazon for the special discounted price of 99p/99c until Friday 26th June.
The Haunting of Highdown Hall
June 19, 2015
“Good morning, Psychic Surveys, how can I help?”
Who You Gonna Call? Psychic Surveys – the Inspiration.
You hear it so many times; the great horror movies of our time – Poltergeist, The Amityville Horror and Texas Chainsaw Massacre for example – are inspired by true events. So many times, in fact, you begin to take it with a pinch of salt, doubt it even. After all, these are ‘horrors’, hyped up for an audience who love nothing more than to be scared witless. But since becoming a paranormal writer myself, I give that claim more credence. Hyped up they may be but truth is always stranger than fiction.
The Haunting of Highdown Hall has its roots firmly in truth. Not only with regard to the main case where movie star, Cynthia Hart, still resides within her hallowed four walls, despite having died in 1958, but in all the ‘mini’ cases scattered around it. Cynthia’s story is based on a tale I heard years ago. I can’t say who the movie star is but she was one of the cinematic greats. Some years after her death, her house was inherited by a friend of a friend, only for him to discover she was still very much ‘in’ it. As for her bedroom, still kept as a shrine to her – he couldn’t even enter it. It was as though invisible hands were pushing him out and he got the sensation of a voice ‘screaming’ at him. He called in a team of psychics and they dealt with it (or should I say ‘her’) and he lived there happily for many years afterwards. Hearing this story, I couldn’t help but wonder: what was holding her there, fear, despair or something darker, much darker? Transfer that story to fiction and that’s what the Psychic Surveys team have to find out.
The ‘mini’ cases too are drawn from real life, for example, the little boy that ‘haunts’ his bedroom, taking an active dislike to the new child that has moved in there and the tormented young man in Paul Ashworth’s flat that is hell bent on driving him out. Both were based on psychic cleansings I took part in (I rung the bells in dark corners to break down negative energy!). Although the owners were terrified, when you find out the history of the spirit, when you can ‘communicate’ with them, you realise that tormented is exactly what they are and often just need some understanding, validation even and gentle encouragement to ‘move on’. Happily, both cleansings were successful and the owners reported no more paranormal activity occurring afterwards.
Aside from the cases, the ‘business’ of Psychic Surveys is rooted in truth. Imagine if you didn’t have to hunt around for this service, if domestic spiritual clearance was widely available – we’re talking high street presence here, alongside estate agents, solicitors and travel agents. An idea considered in reality, we decided the business was better off in fiction – the aim of it to put the normal in paranormal, to remove the taboo. Young psychic, Ruby Davis, heads up the team and, suffice to say, business is booming!
The Haunting of Highdown Hall is available on Amazon and all good bookshops. It’s sequel, Psychic Surveys Book Two: Rise to Me is also available. Book Three: 44 Gilmore Street due early 2016.
