Category: DEBUT NOVEL

Erotic Historical Romance … appears to be very much alive and well!

June 20, 2019

The hand print was immediate and the brief permanence created by his own stinging palm pleased him.

‘Why does the girl not yelp? Has she no tongue?’ He watched his man move through dried leaves to take a look. Pulling her head back and receiving spittle on his clothes was confirmation enough.

‘She’s an animal My Lord! May I dispose of her for you?’

‘No. I think I should like the opportunity to do so myself.’ Archie lowered his eyes from his soldier to the girl’s backside. Pale skin shivered against the November air, his handprint still visible. Movement was not an option while her thighs and calves were bound tight by thick leather belts. His cock twitched as he noted her flesh squeezed above the leather and brass. Treatment fitting for a thief. He pulled her rough garment back down and its heavy folds fell to the floor. ‘Put her back in the cart. It’s getting dark and I have Court to prepare for. You shall bring her to my quarters at eight.’        

He did not have time for games in the forest today but later, in his rooms, he would play until his body no longer desired attention. Her life had already been extended. If they had left her where they found her, she would be dead by now. Stealing meats and apples from the winter stores of a neighbouring clan carried only one penalty.

So, if this was the start of chapter one in a book you’d never heard of, would you read on? I’m thinking rags-to-riches, thief-to-Queen type thing.

I’ve evidently been watching too many Game of Thrones episodes! Man of the Woods and I have binge-watched our way through Season one and two and now we are three episdoes into the third. Khaleesi is reunited with her dragon babies and is headed ‘home’. There’s gonna be carnage when she arrives …

Is it just me or does her right-hand man remind you of Hutchinson from the original Starchy & Hutch? David Soul I think his name was.

I try to write or type these dragon eggs of ideas as they pop into my head. Saucy fiction, as we know, is a genre I enjoy reading occasionally. I couldn’t only read it though as I would a) get nothing else done in life and b) spend the rest of the time sleeping to restore the balance. Seriously though, I find it escapism; easy-reading and I might read one in every ten books I devour. It was only natural that I would attempt to create some of my own at some point.

While Book 1 is being critiqued by a Reader in the New Writers Scheme with the Romantic Novelists Association, along with the other members of this incredibly supportive scheme, we have to continue writing and exercising our fiction-creation muscles. Martha and Antonio’s story, presently with a working title of Secrets Under a Tuscan Sun, has no sex in its pages. Chemistry, yes and some hugs and kisses. Nothing like a good hug and a kiss.

Book 2 Paper Goodbyes is taking shape in plot form, using Save The Cat method as I am intrigued to see if a different approach from the start makes a difference to Draft 1’s creation. Yesterday I developed ideas for those final ‘beats’ in pen in a journal I bought in Waterstones in Hampstead. I buy lots of journals and have wasted a few. This time I feel I am using one to its full potential.

The story will be told through one POV, that of Toby, a shy boy – I’m thinking around eleven with High School imminent. It is set over the six weeks of the summer holiday accompanying his mother to the small independent book shop where she works (stay with me). Creating a time frame from the start has the added advantage that I can ‘see’ the beginning and end before I even type a word of the manuscript and, more importantly, it adds a great fiction tool available to the author – the ticking clock.

With a shout-line of ….

When all you want is a friend, but all you have is imagination

…. I can categorically tell you with confidence that I can narrow the theme of this novel down to one word – FRIENDSHIP.

Now, this is something I could never do with Secrets. It was one of the first questions I was asked while on the Julie Cohen course last November and when I couldn’t answer (succinctly) she was right to point out that I had ‘Possibly written this story without a theme in mind?’ This could mean the story has no soul, no point which the reader shall grab onto and carry with them through the chapters.

Secrets had morphed organically from a group of collated snippets of flash fiction. I pushed them together with the air of someone excited who knows not what they do. By goodness, we’ve had some fun with it though. Through it I’ve met friends, read books, attended courses, joined the RNA, started new books, kept a blog with decreasing regularity (I actually had some days last week when no-one visited. I know! Zero readers the stats said! Insert three laughing face emojis here – I can’t remember how to find them with this big keyboard).

Lovely to catch up with you all – I’m going to make tea now and take it back to bed for an hour. I hope all your writing plans are going accordingly but if they take a back seat sometimes, I hope you are enjoying what else life has to offer.

Much love xxx

When all you want is a friend, but all you have is imagination

June 5, 2019

So that’s my new shout line for Book 2.

The one line eye-catching piece of prose at the top of your synopsis, before the thing starts, in the hope it catches an agent’s attention. We were taught about them on my recent CBC course. Some even make it all the way through the process and appear on the front cover of a book!

Taylor Jenkins Reid’s book, ‘After I Do’ had a great shout line, look..

It’s at the top; FALLING IN LOVE IS THE EASY PART. When I read that, I hear an enormous BUT THEN ….

I finished reading it two days ago, with tears steaming down from behind my sunnies. I was sat on a bench (dedicated to somebody who enjoyed years of holidays in this area) as the two main characters re-built their crumbling marriage. An intense, emotional and gritty read about the realism of taking your partner for granted and about what that can lead to. I actually sent Man of the Woods a text immediately I’d finished it. It’s the little thoughts that can go a long way when you’re apart…

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Yesterday we padded around Padstow and ate pasties from the famous Chough bakery and lemon meringue pies from Stein’s Patisserie.

There is no photo of the Cornish pastie as we had to eat them sharpish before the seagulls succeeded in their efforts to swoop in and win a mouthful.

By ‘we’ I mean myself, my young adult offspring and their respective partners. Gone are the days when holidays with children mean holding their hand, watching them jump and down at the sight of blue ice cream, and dealing with over tired whiny pleas of ‘when can we go in the sea, mummy?’.

Now, it’s a delicate balance of suggesting loose plans, being flexible when those fall apart, watching your daughter decide whether she wants to be a fisherman’s wife as her eternally patient BF prepared his various hooks and baits them with now-disgusting pieces of fish from the not-so-cool box he has under his landrover 🤣🤣🤣🐟🐟🐟.

Then you’ve got the clown of the family – the happy-go-lucky son who still eats babybel cheeses and pretends to cry for our entertainment when he can’t find his whatever it is he’s looking for. He’s 6’4″, and I think gained an inch since New Zealand!

On the phone yesterday, MoW told me it rained more than 9mm yesterday in East Anglia and hence he and his father are stopping irritating (that’s not a typo; it’s how farmers refer to irrigating!). So we are holding our breath today for their arrival later. In my experience, the chance that something else can happen on the farm to prevent them making the 7-hr drive is quite high. I won’t believe he’s coming until I see his dad’s car pull up. (All the other cars in the family are here already 😂).

Anyway, back to books. We like a book don’t we. And we like a book shop, especially those cute independent ones, yes? Here’s a cutie – Padstow Bookseller.

This cover caught my eye, as did Julie Cohen’s words upon the front. oooh, I thought. I know and respect this author and if she says it’s great, I might just buy this. Then I opened the dust jacket and saw Susan Elliot Wright is a fellow RNA member, so the connections got even better and I opened and read the first page.

Yup, that was hooky enough for me to get my purse out!!

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On our return from Padstow, being sure to leave the ‘kids’ some space, I retreated to my room with my laptop. After choosing how will spend my sessions at the conference next month, I went on to type up those penned-words I created last Friday towards a synopsis for Book 2. It’s the first draft obviously, but it’s a mini map of the whole idea. On paper/screen it now exists and is not simply only a notion inside my head. I’m excited by it. I even re-watched the Hidden History episode of Michael Portillo’s series which inspired this story!

Then we went in the sea ….

I finished the day studying the list of agents and publishers who are attending the two days of conference … just for us New Writers Scheme members! I mean, just how amazing is that? A chance for us to sit in a one to one meeting, the profressional having read the first 5000 words and a synopsis of our novels, yet knowing we are newbies and don’t really have a clue. It’s their opportunity to find a new voice, a nugget amongst the mountains of debut manuscripts!

I shall enjoy the weekend, the meeting of fellow authors, the standing in line for lunch with famous writers like Katie Ford, Jill Mansell, Julie Cohen, Rowan Coleman .. so many, too many to mention 🌸🥂

If anyone likes my work, it shall be icing on the cake ….

The farming calendar does not pause to fit the whims of its human caretakers. But the writing goes on …

June 1, 2019

… and so I find myself here without Man of the Woods. He is back in East Anglia, irrigating the potato crops which become ‘Charlottes’.

The science behind the ‘new’ potato’s nurture is surprisingly exacting. It is not a question of the agronomist instructing the farmer to: “give this an inch of water any time in the next three weeks.” whereupon he could hurl it on and then leave for his holiday.

No. It is more along the lines of: “These will be sprayed Monday morning, and will need 20mm of water within a 3-day window of that application.

I used to stamp my feet and look surly that I was married to someone who put his job before his time away with the family. Many friends used to raise their eyebrows – while eating potato-based products – and insinuate he was being awkward and boring. What’s more, I’d often agree 🙈.

Now I’m just proud. Speaking to him for half hour a few minutes ago, sat on the floor nursing my now 3/10 migraine (in what is a stunning holiday apartment that he would love) I can hear in his voice the acceptance that this time he cannot join us.

And although his 72 year old father tried to persuade him to drive down and that he would cope with the irrigation alone, MoW will not leave his father with that worry. Machinery has a habit of breaking down, pipes become blocked, the irrigator can sink into the mud just before you’re due to move it twenty yards along the field for the next ‘pull’. It’s hard physical work and while MoW’s father is relatively strong and fit, I know it would worry my husband to leave him to it.

So there it is. The reality of a farming way of life when you don’t have farm-workers; no-one to do the work when you’re not there.

Enjoy your crisps today and give a thought as you crunch that real people produced those for all of our pleasure 🤣

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Meanwhile, in other news, I brought with me a journal for notes to develop my Book 2 idea.

‘Save the Cat’ was also packed because I wish to plan this novel with more care than Book 1! I’ve studied for over a year now this art called fiction writing and while I shall never know all there is to know, my goodness, I have a greater understanding of what makes an okay book into a really good book. (Whether I’ll be able to transfer that knowledge onto the paper remains to be seen but I am excited for the process of Book 2).

Yesterday, as the sun burned away an early haze, I set to work on a synopsis and a tag line.

I had always believed you could never write a synopsis until you’d written an entire novel, because how would you possibly know what to include? The chapters will jostle for position, as we know they always do as we write, and therefore a synopsis surely should not be contemplated until after the book is written to at least a first draft?

Well …

For those of you who have been reading my posts for a while, you’ll remember I attended a course in Devon at RetreatsForYou to study alongside the talented Julie Cohen who has written over twenty books; here are just a few:

Many of her tips have stayed with me, but one particularly.

She asked us all to pause and think about the theme of our novel; the thread of aim or goal for the protagonist through the pages. Without one, even with quality writing, we simply end up with prose about things happening. Julie went even further and encouraged us to think about narrowing it down to a one-word pitch!

It was a hard exercise as we all grappled for words that narrowed our story down but the lesson has stuck. As I contemplate Book 2 (even while Book 1 is in the ‘system’ and being critiqued right now) I find my approach is completely different this time.

I know roughly my story outline but before I type a word, or even map out the chapters I wish to narrow it down to a synopsis, an elevator pitch, a tag line and even one-word. Without telling you yet about Book 2 in detail, let’s look at what I mean in regard to this exercise. Below is a potential 3 star piece of mini fiction;

She walked to the beach and dipped her toes in the Atlantic water. The icy chill took her breath away.

However with a theme, we have heart and soul. For example, let’s give the previous sentence a one-word theme and re-write it slightly;

‘LONELINESS’

The knowledge she would be alone when she had least expected it cut through her plans like a sword. The laughter she’d known they would share was silent before it had chance to exist and as the icy waters stole the warmth from her feet, so too did the wind her hopes. She pulled the jumper closer to her skin in a desperate attempt to protect the shred of courage her journey there had given her ….

We have a real vision of someone now, and how she might be feeling. We have a question – why is she alone yet wasn’t expecting to be so? That’s the hook.

Do excuse me while I pause for a coffee. My migraine is receding and usually around now I can eat without feeling nauseous.

I’ll be back!

The silk kaftan billowed against her bronzed skin..

May 2, 2019

The silk kaftan billowed against her bronzed skin before Blanche pulled it over her head and let it flutter to the ground, landing on the terracotta tiles in a rippled heap of muted colour. She smiled at her painted toes gripping the edge of the wooden diving board, the one she and her sister had begged Giovanni to build over the pool the previous summer.
She paused, bent her knees and bounced once, twice before springing and folding into an elegant arc. She pierced the water and swam near the dolphins which decorated the bottom, emerging at the far end of the pool. She hung her arms on the smooth, warm concrete which edged the pool allowing her lower body to sway gently. As the water drained from her skin and briefly darkened the stone before evaporating, movement caught her attention. Her two year old nephew was thwacking snails with a toy truck. Snails always appeared around the pool following a rain shower.

‘Vi my lovely, what did the snail do to you?’
‘It made my space gooey. Cattiva lumina!’ His pout returned as he gave it one last bash for good measure.
‘He’s not a bad snail Vi! He’s just come out to find food and drink. We mustn’t kill animals. He hasn’t hurt you has he now?’
Giovanni hovered nearby, talking on the phone which had the longest coil of phonewire Blanche had ever seen. Giovanni had known someone who knew someone who had provided the special telephone cable. There was nothing he could not source.
Ingrid appeared in the pagoda which bridged the back of the house from the pool area and placed a lunch tray on the table. As she watched Ingrid arrange items on the table she allowed the chinking of glass and clatter of cutlery to sooth her the throbbing at the back of her head. Sounds of daily life at the Tuscan vineyard with the family she loved more than anything.
On closer inspection the table top appeared shiny. Aluminium where it should be teak, and the cutlery had morphed into surgical implements. A nurse stood in Blanche’s line of vision, obscuring her view of lngrid. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, preferring to watch the sunlight dance on the surface ripples. She watched aghast as her forearms slid down the edge and her shoulders felt the cool cover of water. Her fingers were the last of her to feel the Italian breeze. An exhaustion wrapped itself around her and although she always swam under water, this time the sinking sensation was accompanied by no urgency to return to the surface. Perhaps a little sleep on the bottom, next to the dolphins she coveted….

17:16 from Leeds – on my way to Romantic Suspense 💜

May 1, 2019

Having fun going back through some posts from last year .. and I cannot believe how far my manuscript has come when I re-read some. Like this Leeds train journey feels like only yesterday. At that time I had only 24,000 (very naive) words written … wow.

IdeasBecomeWords

So you’re itching to hear how I got on aren’t you?

Have you ever been so tired, you’re almost delirious? You’re aware of how many bags you need to keep near you and which pocket your ticket is snuggled in, but there’s a general fog? Not a hungover fog as I kept my alcohol intake to a sensible level so as to attend my one to ones with wits about me. Drunk on information and inspiration maybe….

I did have a little lift selfie moment. Does my bum look big in this? Doesn’t matter if it did because I found a hibiscus 🌺

Maud has become Blanche as the niggle about introducing two characters in a first chapter with names starting with the same letter grew into a cactus which kept meeting me head-on at every corner.

I’ve been advised also to think about an aspect in my early chapters…

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Kisses .. is as far as my characters get on the page! Editing observations… helped out by Stephen King

April 15, 2019

Good morning my lovelies – I’m drinking tea brought to me by Man of the Woods. He’s gone out to check slug activity on the young crops and I’m watching the clock hands do that thing where they look sedentary but they’re not. Imagine going round and round in circles and never seeing any other platform.

“Oh, hello 10 it’s you again. What have you been up to for the last twelve hours?”

Self editing can start to feel like that so I was delighted when a Curtis Brown Creative email dropped in to tell me one of their courses was about to start.

I’ve already done the first two of their set of three, so having got to the end of my manuscript a few weeks ago, it seemed churlish not to do the final one – EDIT & PITCH YOUR NOVEL.

Yes I purchased the genius book called Save The Cat (STC which I now can’t help using to analyse every damn film I watch) but the necessary evil task of actually reaching in to the chest freezer of my novel and hauling out really heavy scenes which grip in their frozen determination was proving impossibly painful.

The first tutorial video last week was a blessing when Anna – one of the top tutors on the course, and a published author herself – reminded us how far we’d come. We’d arrived at the end of our first draft; a goal which for many is never attained.

We were encouraged to think about what type of novel we wanted to write. (This is the bit where I get in a muddle as we already know I’ve been told it crosses genres. I’m still going to whisper at this point that I want it to… and this is why I’ve been more seriously considering Indie Publishing).

There is romance, but no sex. This is as warm as this one gets…

(And the book’s not called TRAIN by the way..!)

Anyway, for now, let’s keep walking down the Prepare for agent submission path. This week Anna wants us to print the beast out and re-read it again; while pausing to analyse every scene, marking on a chart (made in Word) whether it works, drives the story on, has more than one story ‘point’… she calls this the diagnosis of the pain, which is rather relevant don’t you think?!

The rape is in flower .. it’s pretty though lots of people suffer with hay fever 🤒

(Nice pic, but totally irrelevant to the blog. So that would go if I was editing this post like my novel!)

This one is totally relevant though. To the title of this post! I’ve not read the book, which he wrote in 1983, but I watched with gripped fascination more than fear at the genius clue-dropping as to what the two MC characters’ worst fears in life are… delivered carefully to the viewer should they choose to ‘see’ them.

The mirror image of opening and closing scenes – which STC says we should see in 99% of films – was not only there, but cleverly illustrated the journey arc of the characters. The only constant was the Volvo. The horrendous premise of the final frame leaves the viewer facing their own primal fear … I won’t say what it is in case you haven’t seen it … suffice to conclude that as a human experience it GETS you.

My friend, who is not studying writing and does not read novels actually left the cinema saying ‘that was crap’ (she likes SAW and HOUSE OF WAX type horrors). I totally disagreed, in our good-friendship humour way that we can!

She’s also not a parent…..

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All of the Curtis Brown Creative writing courses can be found here.

I recommend printout out the coursework and sticking it into a journal like I’ve done here… you’ve got it then for every book you write!

Have a great week whatever you’re up to xxx