CLP Blog Tours Interview and Excerpt: Conditional Love by Cathy Bramley
**Interview**
When did you know writing was for you?
I’d been trying to write for a year or so, but didn’t think I had much skill. Then last March 2013, I went on a course run by an organization called The Writer’s Workshop in the UK. It was an online course called ‘Self-Editing’ for people who had already completed a novel. The feedback I got from the course tutors was so positive that it gave me the confidence I needed to believe in myself and self-publish my first novel Conditional Love
How do you choose a genre to write in, or does it choose you?
Ha! Good question! I write commercial women’s fiction. My books are feel-good, light-hearted romance novels. Conditional Love is a romantic comedy. I think the genre chose me. I always see the funny side in a situation and can’t resist putting humour into my writing!
Why was Conditional Love a book you wanted to write?
Conditional Love is about a girl who inherits a house and has grand plans to create her dream home. My husband and I had just finished building our own dream home at the time and I really enjoyed the process. Even though what happens in Conditional Love is nothing like our own story, I was keen to draw on my experience with architects and planning permission, etc in novel form.
I love your cover! Can you tell us who created it and how much input you had?
Thank you, Samantha, I must admit, I’m very proud of the cover. I used a fantastic company called Design For Writers, who specialize in book covers and websites for authors. I was recommended them by fellow author, Annabel Scott. When I engaged them, I thought all I would have to do is give them a vague idea of covers and style and they would do the rest. But I had to complete and amazingly thorough thirty-two point questionnaire! It really made me think about what I wanted and I’ve been thrilled with the result.
What is the hardest part of the writing process for you?
The first sentence in every chapter. Once I’ve got that down, the rest usually follows. But setting the scene in that first moment can sometimes take me a while.
What are your favorite genres to read?
I do read a lot of chick lit, but I love thrillers too!
What do you want readers to take away from your story?
I want them to cheer when Sophie starts making her own decisions and taking control of her life. I want readers to laugh and cry and enjoy my story of love in all its different guises.
How important do you think social media is for authors these days?
Not only is it essential to have an active social media profile, but it’s fun too. One of my favourite things about being an author is connecting with readers, bloggers and other authors.
What would be your advice to aspiring writers?
To write. Right now. Don’t wait for the right time in your life because it will probably never come. And write often. It gets easier with practice.
**Excerpt**
In the centre of the desk, lay an open file. I shuffled forward to the edge of my seat and managed to read my own name at the top of the page. I inched closer still, squinting to read more.
‘And you are?’
The deep voice made me jump so much that I panicked, slid off the chair and down onto one knee, thus greeting the tall, thin man with dark hair, glasses and a bushy beard in some sort of weird marriage proposal stance.
I scrambled up off the floor, mortified, and sat back down. ‘Nothing! Just waiting for Mr Whelan.’
His lips twitched and he gave his beard a scratch.
‘I’m Thomas Whelan.’ He extended a hand towards me. ‘And you are?’
‘Oh! Sophie Stone.’ I shook his hand and pulled up the collar of my coat to hide my glowing cheeks.
‘Ah yes,’ he said settling himself at his desk. He glanced at the file that I’d had been trying to read. ‘You’ve come about your aunt’s will.’
I processed this new information, hitherto unaware I had an aunt. Alive or dead.
‘My aunt?’
Mr Whelan blinked furiously, referred back to the manila file and adjusted his glasses.
‘My apologies, Miss Stone, your great aunt.’
Well that was that then. She had to be one of my father’s relations. There were definitely no great aunts in Mum’s family. There was no one at all in her family. I sighed. I had been hoping… well, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d been hoping. Maybe that she was an old lady I’d done a good deed for once when I was in the Brownies or something. Although, I couldn’t think what I’d done to warrant a mention in anybody’s will.
But any tenuous link would be better than being a relative of Terry Stone’s. Still, I’d better be absolutely sure.
‘Would you mind just running me through the family tree?’
‘Of course not,’ said Mr Whelan, pushing his chair back and standing up abruptly. ‘But first, have you brought your passport?’
I jumped to my feet too. ‘Why? Where are we going?’ I had been told on the phone to bring my passport when I arranged the appointment and the request had been troubling me ever since.
‘Only to the photocopier,’ he chuckled. ‘Need to verify you are who you say you are before we continue with the reading of the will.’
Thank heavens for small mercies! I had had visions of having to jump on a plane at a moment’s notice to take ownership of some mystery item.
Identity checks complete, we resumed our positions either side of the desk. The solicitor took off his wristwatch, set it to one side and then, elbows on the desk, clasped his hands together and made a steeple with his forefingers, resting his long nose on the tip.
‘This office holds the last will and testament of Mrs Jane Kennedy. She was Terence Stone’s maternal aunt. Your great aunt.’
I stared at him, mesmerised by the end of his nose which was protruding over his fingers.
I should stop him from going any further. There was no point in hearing what he had to say. My father had been absent for all of my thirty- two years. Mum and I had managed perfectly well without his or his family’s help, thank you very much and I knew instinctively that she would resent any intervention at this stage in the game. Besides, why would the old dear leave anything to me? It didn’t make sense, we’d never even met.
‘Long and tedious documents, wills.’
My eyes must have glazed over for a moment. I shook myself and Mr Whelan’s eyes twinkled at me.
‘There’s been a misunderstanding,’ I said, scooping up my bag as I stood. ‘My mother is estranged from her ex-husband. I’ve never met Jane Kennedy; in fact, I’ve never met my father.’
‘I’m aware of all that,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘However, it falls to me to ensure that you are fully informed as to your inheritance. Please sit.’ He flapped a hand at the empty chair. ‘Would you like me to read the whole thing or cut to the chase?’
I blinked my green eyes at him. Was he allowed to say things like that? I sat back down obediently.
‘The main bits, please.’
‘Righto.’ Mr Whelan extracted a document and a small sealed envelope from the file. He pushed his glasses up his nose and cleared his throat. I held my breath.
‘Your great aunt Jane has bequeathed the bulk of her estate to you. You, Miss Stone are the main beneficiary of her will.’
An estate! Visions of strolling through manicured gardens like someone out of Pride and Predjudice, against a backdrop of a Chatsworth-style mansion, on Marc’s arm, were somewhat dimmed with Mr Whelan’s next sentence.
‘There’s a bungalow in Woodby and several thousand pounds. We haven’t finalised the amount yet.’
Woodby? That was a village in the sticks somewhere north of Nottingham. A bungalow and some money. I repeated the words in my head. That was a house and some actual money-in-the-bank type dosh.
My chest had been getting tighter and tighter with lack of oxygen and now I was all panicky. Breathe, Sophie, in out, in out. I probably looked like I was in labour: face all red, and puffing like Ivor the engine.
A house. My great aunt had given me a house. Of my own. And that meant a home. How long had I been dreaming of my own home? Only all my life, that was how long.
Mr Whelan’s lips were moving. He was still speaking and I hadn’t been listening. He was holding an envelope out to me and I took it automatically.
‘As I say, there is a condition to the inheritance, but I think it would be better if you read Mrs Kennedy’s letter yourself. I’ll leave you in private for a moment. Can I get you some coffee?’
‘Tea please, two sugars.’
Condition? I wasn’t sure I could take any more surprises. Life was so much gentler without them. My heart rate was already registering at least a seven on the Richter scale.
‘Actually, make it three!’
Author Bio:
Cathy Bramley is a British author of women’s feel-good fiction. Conditional Love, a romantic comedy is her debut novel. Her new title, Ivy Lane is being serialized as four ebooks this year and will be released as a paperback in 2015.
Cathy has spent most of her working career in the crazy world of marketing. After graduating from University in Nottingham, she plunged herself into corporate world, working on high-powered projects such as testing the firing range of SuperSoaker water guns and perfecting the weeing action of Tiny Tears. In 1995 she set up her own marketing agency, Apples & Pears Marketing, but now most of her marketing activities involve promoting her books.
She lives in an idyllic Nottinghamshire village with her husband, two daughters and a dog called Pearl.
Connect with Cathy!
Twitter @cathybramley
Blog www.cathybramleyauthor.com
Facebook www.facebook.com/CathyBramleyAuthor
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