B.D. Hawkey's Blog

A new name and a new book to consider.

The Thief's Daughter

Hide from the thief-taker, for if he finds you, he will take you away …

Eighteenth-century Cornwall is crippled by debt and poverty, while the gibbet casts a shadow of fear over the land. Yet, when night falls, free traders swarm onto the beaches and smuggling prospers.

Terrified by a thief-taker’s warning as a child, Jenna has resolved to be good. When her brother, Silas, asks for her help to pay his creditors, Jenna feels unable to refuse and finds herself entering the dangerous world of the smuggling trade.

Jack Penhale hunts down the smuggling gangs in revenge for his father’s death. Drawn to Jenna at a hiring fayre, they discover their lives are entangled. But as Jenna struggles to decide where her allegiances lie, the worlds of justice and crime collide, leading to danger and heartache for all concerned …

Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i9oMt...

Radio Interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zy_ul...

The Thief's Daughter is available from all ebook platforms.

Get the book: https://books2read.com/u/4Ag1nd

New name. New contract. New website.

I'm delighted to share the news that I have signed with Choc Lit, a U.K. based independent publisher of romantic fiction.

Signing with Choc Lit seemed the appropriate time to change my pen name to a pseudonym more suited to my preferred genre, historical romance. Future books will be released under my new name, Victoria Cornwall.

My next book, The Thief's Daughter, will be released later this year. Choc Lit made the announcement to the book trade earlier this week.

I would love to share this new phase of my writing career with you.
My new website is:-
www.victoriacornwall.com
My new twitter account is
@VickieCornwall
and I also have a new Facebook page

Thank you for taking the time to read this announcement.

best wishes,

B.D.Hawkey...woops!...Victoria Cornwall.

B.D.Hawkey's New Blog

I have just started a new blog. Drop in for a virtual cup of coffee and a read.

https://bdhawkeyauthor.wordpress.com/

My Writing Cave

Really enjoyed chatting to romance author Georgia Hill about my writing cave and my dark, male companion called Alfie. Read all about it here:-

http://www.georgiahill.co.uk/?page_id=98

Historical Romance Reader Alert!

I saw the flicker of scepticism in my friend’s face before she had a chance to mask it. Unfortunately, the look did not surprise me, as it was a reaction I was becoming familiar with in others.

“Really?” she asked, as if she thought I was playing a joke on her.
“Yes. Why are you so surprised?”
The scepticism changed to nervous, embarrassed laughter.
“Well…,” she said eventually, “…you just don’t look the type.”

You would think that I had just confessed to robbing a bank vault or expressed a wish to be a nun, but the reality was that it was nothing so dramatic. Yet, my confession that I liked to read historical romances had, I could tell, subtlety changed my friend’s view of me and, in that moment, I felt it was not towards the positive.

So why the odd reaction? Probably because humans are quick to label people and place them in well-defined slots as if we are shapes in a game.
If I had said my favourite genre was autobiographies I’m sure she would view me as inquisitive and broad-minded.
If I had said my favourite genre was spy thrillers, she would consider me intelligent, inquisitive and analytical.
If I had said my favourite genre was fantasy, she would consider me imaginative, creative and open-minded.
I would like to think I have all of these qualities, but alas, I said my favourite genre was historical romance…

“What is my type?” I asked.
I watched her fumble for the right words that would translate her thoughts and do the least harm. “Well, someone like Mary from Coronation Street, I suppose.”

So has the historical romance genre become uncool to read? I certainly hope not! However I can’t help wondering why a business woman, who is independently minded, fairly intelligent and also family orientated, not be considered the “type” to enjoy historical romance. Perhaps its chequered history can be partly to blame.

In the past, historical romances were chaste and even sometimes lacked the now obligatory ‘happy ever after’. If lust and passion reared their obscene heads in England, as with Lady Chatterley’s Lover, publishers risked being brought to trial under the Obscene Publications Act 1959.

However, the titanic plates of the romance genre shifted by the 1970s and the historical romance genre were all about domination. Today we may find these hard to tolerate and even label them abusive. However, these novels were ground breaking for the time as, for the first time, novels showed passion and lust that was previously, for decency sake, not referred to. Readers lapped up these stories in the privacy of their own homes. Yes, the 70’s was the hippy era and free love for all, or so we are to believe, but for many women the reality of their lives was much more mundane. Reading about a passion filled, dominate hero gave the reader the escapism that they longed for. These readers were, strangely, being rebellious in their own way, although readers of today may be horrified to hear this view.
By the 1990’s women wanted to read about sassier heroines, who were independent and no longer victims. Although historical romances remained, trying to remain true to the historical period would place the inevitable constraints that contemporary romances did not have to limit themselves to.
By the 2000’s a whole sub-genre of romances grew in popularity, including humorous, suspenseful, inspirational, erotic, science fiction, paranormal, vampire and werewolf romances.

Perhaps this explosion has left the traditional historical romance appearing, to some, a little out of date or stuck in a rut.
Perhaps the historical romance genre of the past has given my friend a slanted view of the typical historical romance readers of today as believe they are still like the wide eyed 1970s reader, who, strangely in her opinion, enjoyed reading about dominant heroes and must, therefore, be lacking in some part of their life.

The reality is that the well written romance of today are about women finding their own identity and their journey getting there, whilst finding Mr Right along the way. It can have the historical detail of the classics, the passion and lust of the 70’s era and an independent heroine of today that is a survivor of the constraints placed upon her. Historical romances can be fluff and fun, after all who needs serious reading all the time, but equally it can be an informative, passionate rollercoaster that can rival any thriller, autobiography or mystery. It’s the author and their skill that matters, not the genre it is placed in.

Next time I see my friend, I will confess that I have actually written two historical romances that have both been nominated by InD’Tale Magazine for the RONE Best Indie Small Published Book Award. I can’t wait to see the flicker of scepticism pass over her face before I am able to convince her that I am telling the truth.

As for Mary in Coronation Street, a series that has been on our television screens for what seems like forever, she is my favourite character. She is full of passion, independent, intelligent, loving, humorous, determined, and an incorrigible romantic – and a little crazy. Just like me! Perhaps my friend was right after all…

Old Sins Long Shadows

The Gossamer Trail

The flaw in me...

I’m not the most adventurous person in the world. You won’t see me bungee jumping or hiking around the world to “find myself” with just a rucksack and a pair of worn trainers. Perhaps it’s because I’m not that spontaneous. I like to plan, organise and “look forward” to outings just as much as actually going on them. You may consider this a flaw in me or recognise my peculiarities in yourself. We are all different and that makes the world more interesting.

These personality traits often seep into the books I choose to read. I prefer particular genres, writing styles and only try different books when they are recommended to me. The Goodreads site is great for helping and encouraging me to expand my literary horizons and I do like many authors and many types of books.

However, I continue to return to a certain type of book/writing style and feel happiest knowing that there is a good chance I will enjoy the book I have spent my hard earned money on.

I don’t think I am alone in this and have put together a short video to explain my writing style with the aim that potential readers will have a little more information before they decide if my books are for them. I hope you find it helpful.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U6MNs...

Failure is not final...just a bump on the journey...

The first month of 2015 is over and I have fallen off the diet wagon again! I also did it in a spectacular way, because if one is going to break their diet resolution, it might as well be for a three course, calorie laden meal which includes chocolate brownies, chocolate sauce and double cream.

Unfortunately, I could not hide my moment of madness from the scales as I tentatively stepped on them the following morning. I almost heard them laughing as they gleefully flashed at me that I had put on 2lbs in weight since the day before – the same amount that has just taken me two weeks to lose.

So the diet wagon is waiting for me to climb aboard again. I know I should, but it’s an uncomfortable, isolating ride, although I hear that the destination is a utopia filled with happiness and confidence – at least that is what I (and millions of other women who are bombarded with glossy images of the “perfect woman”) are led to believe.

I will climb aboard again and I expect that I will probably fall off again in another spectacular and tasty way. Next time I will not be so hard on myself and try to remember that failure is not final and that if the odd failure is part of the diet plan, it is not considered a failure at all.

The diet wagon journey may be slow, but the destination will be reached eventually if I keep climbing back on. At the end I may be able to fit into those jeans again, but I bet it won’t turn me into the “perfect woman” – just a grumpy one craving for chocolate brownies covered in double cream.

I saw a little child...

I saw a little child,
She turned and looked at me.
She was a curious little soul,
With a graze upon her knee.

She asked me many questions,
She told me many things.
She danced and sang and laughed a lot,
An angel without wings.

Then her mother called her name,
And she ran away from me.
I saw her fade into the mist,
With a graze upon her knee.

I smile and wonder where she’s gone,
Now I rarely dance and sing.
I’m guarded in what I choose to share,
I’m no angel without wings.

Inspired, I begin to dance again,
Not caring who might see.
Although a woman, I’m still that girl,
With a scar upon my knee.

B.D.Hawkey
bdhawkey.com

The good thing about setting a goal for yourself…

I always think it’s good to have a goal. It provides a focus and when it is achieved the experience can build self-awareness, self esteem and give satisfaction. Of course, the goals have to be achievable and realistic or you might as well pick up a whip and start flogging yourself.

The beauty about setting yourself a goal is that it can be as easy, or as hard, to achieve as you want. Some people thrive on having a goal that requires a lot of work and dedication (like passing an exam), while others are happy with something more mundane (such as eating two pieces of fruit a day). Either is okay as a goal is a goal at the end of the day.

Dr Phil says ‘…goals have to do with aspects of your existence that you control and can therefore manipulate. In identifying your goal, strive for what you can create, not for what you can't.’

I always knew Dr Phil sprinkled gems of wisdom, I only wish I’d read this at the beginning of 2014 before I set my own goals.

I am pleased to say that I did achieve some of the goals I set myself in 2014.
I completed and published my second book, The Gossamer Trail , which was short-listed for The New Talent Award at the Festival of Romantic Fiction in England. As a result, I was invited to my first romantic fiction award ceremony where I had the opportunity to meet other authors and the director of Choc Lit Publishing, Lynn Vernham. It was a special moment for me as I had the opportunity to meet knowledgeable people from the "book world" who were happy to share their knowledge.

I am now in the process of writing my third book, an 18th century romance.

However, I have failed to achieve some of my goals and, on reflection, I now realise that the areas where I have failed are aspects I could not control. One does not have any control over someone else’s decision, we can hope to influence them but the ultimate control is with them not with you.

As 2014 draws to a close, it is only natural to look back and reflect before looking forward to what we hope to achieve in the year ahead. I will be setting myself new goals, but I will be a little more discerning regarding the goals I set myself for 2015.

The good thing about making a goal for yourself… is that you can change the goal posts at any time and put them wherever you want. It’s your goal setting game after all and, more importantly, it’s your life!

http://www.drphil.com/articles/articl...

Stranger than fiction...

Whether you are a believer or not, you may be tempted to celebrate Halloween at the end of the month, just like many people from all over the world plan to do. Also known as Allhallowtide, the yearly celebration is dedicated to remembering the dead, including saints (hallows), martyrs, and all the faithful departed believers. Traditionally the main focus of the celebration is on All Hallow’s Eve and revolves around the theme of using “humour and ridicule to confront the power of death” (Thank you Wikipedia for the explanation. Usually my research is a little more robust, but I’m feeling a little lazy this morning. ;))

So it is only natural, at this time of year, to wonder if there are such things as ghosts, or can all experiences be explained away by hallucinations, medication, wishful thinking, chemical reactions in the brain, or something else we have yet to fully understand. Certainly there are phenomena that are yet to be explained or even discovered. We only have to look back in history to realise that all because it is unbelievable, it does not mean it cannot or will not exist. For example, imagine explaining television to someone from the 18th century. Even today I find it mind boggling how pictures can be sent through the air to pop up on a screen thousands of miles away and appear exactly the same as how it was sent.

So do I believe in ghosts? I honestly don’t know. My head tells me one thing, my “sitting on the fence” and “open mindedness” tells me another. I have certainly had some odd experiences in my life that I cannot fully explain. I write fiction, but what I am about to recount are my true experiences. They are not terrifying, so please don’t read further if you are hoping for a gory story as you will be disappointed, but they have kept me “sitting on the fence” and unable to jump down on either side.

When I was in my early thirties, I lay in bed ill with chickenpox. The house was empty and I was sleeping, but awoke to the sensation of someone sitting on my bed. It was not a “feeling” or “sixth sense”, I actually felt the mattress depress by my side. I opened my eyes and on my bed was a child of about eight, with their hair in a ponytail and wearing a child’s dressing up costume of a roman soldier. The child did not turn to look at me, but simply disappeared in front of my eyes — very slowly. The strange thing is, I was surprised, confused, even a little shocked, but I was not scared. Perhaps, at the time, I simply did not have the energy to be any of the above. I later explained it to myself that I was ill and that it was probably a hallucination. Yet what still confuses me to this day, and which I find difficult to explain, was that I only opened my eyes because I felt the mattress move by my side. If I had not, I would not have opened my eyes to see who it was. So was this a chemical reaction brought about by illness or something else? If it was the former, does it adequately explain the sensation of the mattress depressing by my hand? I really don’t know, but I know that at a time of crisis, people do see things.

For many years I worked as a nurse in a critical care unit. A patient who had been involved in a serious road traffic accident was finally on the road to recovery and was waiting to move to a standard ward. For this piece I will give the patient a male gender and call him “Ben” (although that is not his real name and only I know “his” real gender as I take confidentiality very seriously). He should have been happy about his imminent transfer, yet something was on the patient’s mind and he called me over. He asked if I believed in ghosts. When I told him that I was open-minded about it, he said he wanted to tell me something. He told me that after the accident, as he lay in the road bleeding, his father, who had died a few years before, had come over to him, stayed with him and told him over and over again that it was not his time to die. Ben’s injuries were severe, so severe that without early medical help he would have died. What distressed Ben was that until this experience he had not believed in ghosts/spirits. The experience, which at the time had comforted him, now shocked him and left him confused as he reflected upon it. Basically it had tilted his world. We chatted for a while and he felt the better for it. Whatever the reason/cause for his experience, he was left with the knowledge that however it came about, when he was in the most terrifying moment in his life he was given comfort by the man he loved. So what happened here? Everyone will have an opinion, I am sure, and as far as I am concerned, that is okay with me.

The next two experiences are not to do with ghosts/visions, just something strange that perhaps shows that the brain is a strange and complicated organ.
When I was 14 I slipped on some ice at school and banged the back of my head. After I fell over, I got up and continued to my maths lesson. During the maths lesson I became ill. The teacher noticed my confusion and I was escorted from the room to the sick bay… at least that is what I thought had occurred and I would have staked my life on it too. Apparently, according to the eyewitnesses, I never reached the maths lesson. Instead I lay unconscious on the concrete path, with my two friends looking down on me scared out of their wits. When I regained consciousness a few seconds later, they walked me to the sick bay room. Following my accident, and before the school staff took the incident seriously, I temporarily lost my sight, certainly lost parts of my memory, became confused and finally, when the severity of my head injury was finally noticed by a teacher, admitted to hospital. I used some of my experiences in my second book The Gossamer Trail where the hero undergoes similar symptoms of a head injury. The reason I am adding this story to my experiences is that I know my memory/experience of entering the maths lesson is false and that my brain made it up. Why my complicated organ would bother to do that particular experience, I have no idea. At the time I hated maths and disliked the maths teacher who taught it. I would rather it made something else up, like meeting my favourite pop star, or perhaps eradicating all the spots I was suffering with at the time. However my point is that the brain is a strange thing, particularly at times of stress.

But strange things can happen to several people at once and cannot be explained so easily. One day my daughter and I were both in the same room of our house. My husband was away for the day, but out of the blue we both heard him speak in the next room, which was the kitchen. We both looked at each other and naturally thought he had returned home early, but when we went to him he was not there. We both heard him say the same two sentences; we both recognised his voice and both believed he was in the kitchen. However, in reality he had not returned, in fact at the time we heard his voice he was about thirty miles away. I must admit, that experience did unnerve me and I was concerned something had happened to him at that moment for us to hear his voice. Thankfully nothing untoward did happen to him and all was well, yet I have no idea what occurred that day. That experience was spooky.

The last experience I am going to bore you with is a family experience in the north of France. Fourteen years ago we stayed in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. The weather was changeable so one day the whole family stayed in and played cards around the kitchen table. Suddenly, we heard a child laughing in the children’s bedroom. We went to investigate and, of course, it was empty. This incident happened a long time ago now, but we all remember it and have the same memory of it. I don’t remember feeling scared at the time and, strangely, even our children were happy to go to bed that night in the bedroom where we had heard the laughter coming from. It was not the only incident that made us think that something was going on in that cottage. The other was a door knob turning slowly by its self. I saw it with my own eyes and when I opened the door no one was there and the children were asleep in their beds. I cannot explain what we heard and saw or why we did not run screaming from the cottage in terror. Perhaps it was because it was a young child sounding happy that removed any fear as if it had been a deep growling voice you would not have seen me for dust.

As I get older I have come to realise that reality is stranger than any fiction we can write. Experiences are as varied as the people that have them. I remain bewildered and curious about life. Needless to say, I still remain on the proverbial fence, where I look down on either side. Do I believe in ghosts? The answer is that I really don’t know, but whatever you believe in is fine by me.