What I've been reading...

 I don't usually post book reviews on the Scribbles, cos I never feel I'm very good at them. I do post over on Goodreads, but my reviews tend to be quite short - definitely not the 'here's the whole premise for the story, plus everything good the author did/n't do, and what I thought of it' variety.

Don't get me wrong - I admire reviewers who write that kind of thing about books. I've been on the receiving end of some really lovely ones myself, like this one for StarMark, or this one for Kingstone, and I really appreciate them. But I find writing that kind of thing myself quite hard. I tend to stick at what I liked about a particular story, or how it made me feel. 

(Plus, as a writer, it's hard to read a book without being overly critical of what you're reading. If I find a book that I get lost in, then kudos to its author!)

Last weekend, I did A LOT of reading. I wasn't very well. Nothing covid-related, I hasten to add, but the fatigue kept me in bed for two days and all I could manage for most of that time was pressing the next page button on my aged kindle. I know, I know, ebooks...but I couldn't bear to hold the weight of a physical book, so kindle seemed like the best option.

Thought I'd share with you what I read, cos there were some absolute corkers. 

Loved this - so many twists and turns, and some beautifully drawn characters. If you want a masterclass in character voice, look no further! 

Atmospheric Icelandic mystery. Beautifully descriptive, to the point where the land is as much of a character as the people. 

An almost ninety-year old in an Antarctic penguin research station? Sounds far fetched, but when you meet the redoubtable Granny V, you'll believe anything is possible. Laugh-out-loud funny, yet also very poignant in places.

Another fun one; Queen Elizabeth II, a behind the scenes sleuth? Again, beautiful voice for her Maj, so much so I pictured Olivia Colman in The Crown all the way through. Kept me laughing. 

This one is a children's novel, up for review on the Everybody's Reviewing blog. (That's a local review site - the StarMark and Kingstone reviews I mentioned earlier were posted there) As a child of the 60's, growing up in the 70's, there was a lot of this that resonated with me. 

You can read my review for Marmalade Skies by following the link, and any of my Goodreads reviews here. 

So what's next? Well, after watching the Netflix series Bridgerton (the duke...swoon!) I've also started reading the first of the Bridgerton books - The Duke and I.  Can it possibly be as steamy as the TV adaptation...? I'll keep you posted.

Once a writer, always a writer?

I've recently joined a facebook group for students who went to my primary school in the 70s and 80s.

There are some amazing memories being posted - strange how names and events come back to you when you see the photos of old schoolmates. I found a few photos of my own, and although I recognise many faces, I don't often remember the names that should go with them... It's still something I struggle with, if I'm honest. I can remember you and things I know about you, but not your name. (In fact I can forget a name within moments of being told it...)

Anyway, in reminiscing and looking for the photos I found my old junior school reports, which cover Years 3 to 6 in modern schooling. What became apparent in reading them was that, from early on, I was writing stories, reading lots, and generally being creative rather than mathsy or sporty.

It was especially interesting to read about my writing...

Y3: Katherine thoroughly enjoys reading. Her creative writing is imaginative and carefully expressed with colourful descriptions and good vocabulary. She has learned to join her writing, but now tends to be rather untidy occasionally.

Y4: Katherine reads very well and seems to enjoy reading both to herself and aloud. She puts her spelling and vocabulary to good use in her creative writing, which is always lively and interesting, and sustained at length.

Y5: Creative English has been outstanding. She is able to express feelings and details and shows a sympathy for her characters. She writes lengthy stories and her punctuation, grammar and spelling can be so accurate that they hardly need correcting. She has an extensive vocabulary and her work is most enjoyable to read.

Y6: In her creative English work, Katherine is highly imaginative. She produces lively, spontaneous poetry full of descriptive phrases. Her stories are lengthy and follow a well developed plot. The excitement generated by the dialogue and the action shows that Katherine derives much pleasure from writing her stories. Punctuation, sentence structure and use of paragraphs are excellent. Her extensive vocabulary reflects her love of words and the depth of her reading.

Reading them actually made me a bit sad.

While the reports indicate that I've always loved reading and writing, and that I used to write decent stories even as a child, the reports make me realise how much of that joy and ability I lost over the years that came after.

When I think of how many years I've spent, re-learning the art of writing stories after a decade in a microbiology laboratory and another ten as a stay at home mum, there's a little bit of me that can't help wondering whether I should've tried harder to become an author earlier in my life. Especially now that my current ambition is to have published all five of Tilda's stories by the time I'm 60!

Mind, having said that, I'm also a believer that things happen at the right time; I know that if I'd not changed focus to science and worked as a trainer in microbiological awareness, and if I hadn't spent so many years training as a guider, then I wouldn't have developed my presentation, workshop and  and speaking skills which have been so vital to my school visits and talks. If the physical act of writing stories had all come too easily, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to seek out help, and as a result, make such wonderful writing friends. If I'd never offered to help listen to reluctant readers at my children's school, I'd never have even thought about writing stories for other people to read.

Maybe, sometimes, you need to let a talent rest, so that you can rediscover it later? But not just rediscover it - rediscover it and combine it with a few other skills you've learnt, so that it develops into something even bigger and better?

I wonder what 11 yr old me would have said, if you'd told her back then that one day those creative writing stories would mean she'd one day be published and passing on her love of writing to children her own age?

From bookworm to author

My lovely publisher, Bedazzled Ink, shared this on facebook today:

As I prepare to launch my third novel into the world this Thursday, I realised it's 100% true for me.

I don't remember reading as a child, pre-school. I know we had books, and Mum and Dad must've read to us, but my first memories about books are from my school days. When I started school, aged 5, my teacher called my mum in, to ask whether she'd been teaching me to read at home. When my mum denied it, the teacher told her that I was always going missing - and I'd always be found in the book corner. Somehow, I started reading.

I remember Peter and Jane books, and a whole series related to Roger Red Hat. I remember being so annoyed with the latter, as they brought out a version that was spelled phonetically; I knew how you should spell 'was' - and it wasn't 'woz'.

The primary school library was in three parts; the reference library was triangular, and sat at the junction where the corridor split to go to the infant classrooms to the left, juniors to the right. Just before the corridor split, there were two more library areas either side of the corridor - infants on the left, juniors on the right. I can still remember the giddiness I felt when I was allowed to go into the junior side, even though I was only in 'top' infants. The only book I can remember reading there was 'King of the Copper Mountain', still a favourite of mine. At home, I was devouring Enid Blyton's 'mystery' books, and climbing the Magic Faraway Tree. I also went on adventures with a couple of brothers whose sole task seemed to be capturing rare animals for zoos. Very un-pc nowadays!

At secondary school, I started branching out. I used to get the Bunty comic, but moved onto Jackie. I read James Herbert and scared myself silly with 'The Rats'. The library was mostly under ground level, with windows high up in the walls. I loved 'Sue Barton', a series about a nurse in America, and added another to my collection every year on holiday. I read Barbara Cartland, and anything else that took my fancy from the mobile library that stopped at the end of our road on a Friday evening, just before tea time. We were allowed six books at a time - I was usually back within a week, looking for more.

When we went on holiday, we children were allowed to take three books each. I'd often finished mine and ended up reading my brother's and sister's books AND bought something new at the beach shop in Whistling Sands before the end of a fortnight in Wales.

I read in my teens, but I don't remember what. 'Katherine' is a title that stands out from that time, and I think I must've read widely but without anything making much of an impression. I worked my way through a lot of Reader's Digest condensed books, which introduced me to memoir as well as fiction.

In the end, it doesn't matter what I read, or what I remember reading. The important bit is that every single book I read got me to where I am now, and I hope that, one day, someone who read one of my stories as a girl will go on to write something as a woman.

That's the kind of legacy I'd like to leave the world.

Getting started on your first book

This week, I received an email from a lad called Josh. It said;

I am a 14-yr-old boy who wants to write his first book. How do I start my first book?

I replied with some advice, but thought that actually, this would make a good blog post. So for any other young folk out there who are thinking of writing a book and wondering where to start, here's my advice. 

(Remember though, it's only advice. What works for me might not work for you. Read the advice of other authors too, and be wary of applying advice as 'rules'.)


1. The best advice I can give is...start writing! A writer writes - simple as. So pick up that pen and start putting words on the page, and see where it takes you. Keep a notebook to jot ideas into; write short stories; write scenes, dialogue, descriptions; play with words. Use prompt sites to give you ideas if you're stuck. The more you write, the better your writing will become. 

One of my notebooks and a story that has yet to be finished...

2. Read. A lot. By reading you get to see how the best authors structure their stories, and equally, how those that aren't so good make mistakes. Don't just get to the end of the book and say 'that was great!' or 'That was awful!' Try and analyse what made it good or bad for you - and then try and use or avoid similar things in your own writing.

3. Be aware of how you approach your writing. Are you a planner? Do you need to know exactly what the story's about before you begin to write it? Or are you a pantser? You get a whiff of an idea and you're off, seeing where it takes you? Are you a mix of the two (I certainly am!) Do you like to write every day, or only when the muse strikes? What works for you won't necessarily be the same for someone else...and it might take you some time to figure out how you work best.  

4. Don't worry if your story isn't perfect to start with. Tell yourself it's the s****y first draft, it's you working it out for yourself. The 'proper' story comes later, when you're writing it for your reader. And don't be surprised if you end up editing it again and again and again...

Tea...my fuel of choice when editing

5. Make sure the writing is as good as you can make it, especially if you reach the point of wanting to submit it anywhere. Check spellings, grammar, punctuation, and presentation etc. Ask for help if you need it - and be prepared to accept it.

6. Don't give up. If you really want to be a writer, then you have to be prepared for some serious knocks - and each time you get knocked, you have to get up again and keep on trying. If you believe there's a story in you which you have to tell, make sure you tell it. Persistence pays off, as long as you are learning and improving.

There's probably a lot more I could add, but I think that will do for starters. Picking up that pen is the first step in capturing the story ideas that are in your head. Once you've done that, well...who knows where you'll end up?

The Book Cover Challenge

Last week, a facebook friend nominated me for a challenge he'd been doing.

Basically, you posted a picture of a book you loved, every day for seven days, with no explanation and no review - just the picture of the cover. Oh, and nominate someone else to do it as well. (Which I didn't - I'd rather you made that choice for yourself...)

I said that at the end of the week, I'd post on here with my chosen books, and tell you a bit about why I loved them so much, so here goes.

Day 1: Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

This was the first ever Discworld novel I read, and like Lady Sybil, I think I fell a little in love with Sam Vimes, the alcoholic guard who was doing his best to be a good copper. I also fell in love with the whole Discworld scenario and Terry's writing style - so much so that I think I possess every Discworld novel he's ever written, and there is a whole shelf in my house dedicated to his writing. The only piece of fan-fic I've ever written was based on Discworld - The Watchbox Project.

Day 2: Katherine by Anya Seton

I was 16 and in the school library when I saw this book for the first time. I only picked it up because it had my name, spelt my way, on the cover; although Katherine was a popular name when I was born, it was usually spelt with a K and an A or Y, or a C with an E. Not a K and an E. I loved the historical richness of the novel, even though the story focused more on character than pushing the historical facts. And I could also imagine myself as the heroine, because we did share a name, after all.

Day 3: Peepo by Janet and Allen Ahlberg

I can still recite this almost off by heart, we read it so many times to the Squidgelings at bedtime. I loved the illustrations, the music in the poetry, the repetitiveness... We even had two copies of it - hardback when they were very little, and paperback when they were older. 'Here's a little baby, 1,2,3, sit sin his cot. What does he see...?'

Day 4: The Message by Eugene Peterson.

It was only relatively recently that I understood the difference between a translation and an interpretation when it came to bibles. The Message is an interpretation, but it speaks to me more clearly than some of the translations I've read. As my faith is an important part of my life, how can I not love the scripture I use to help guide my life as a Christian?

Day 5: Goth Girl by Chris Riddell.

If I'm honest, I've never read this story. I bought the book simply because it was an object of great beauty. The illustrations are wonderful, there are silver foiled skulls along the spine and the edges of the pages are coloured metallic purple. Best of all, it's signed by Chris Riddell himself, from when I went to see him speak at one of his 'Ask the Laureate' events. And there's a teeny tiny book within the book, too...

Day 6: Lookalikes by Joan Steiner

This book (and another in the same series) kept my children quiet on so many car journeys! Every picture is made up of everyday objects, and you can spend ages on just one picture, trying to spot all the components.

Day 7: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J K Rowling

If I'm honest, I wasn't too fussed about the HP series when it first came out. It all passed me by, so that I didn't begin reading until I think the third book was published. By then, Harry Potter was really causing a stir and I thought I ought to see what all the fuss was about. I loved reading all the books for myself - but enjoyed them even more when I read them, aloud, to the Squidgelings. We tended to read them on car journeys, and there were several times when, having reached our destination, we were not allowed to get out of the car until we'd finished the chapter.

So there you go. Why I picked the books I did, although there were so many others I could've chosen... Maybe I'll have another go at the challenge soon, squeeze in a few more favourites?

Back on the Wagon

For the first time in weeks - maybe months! - I'm writing again. Still working on the oldie, but beginning to get a feel for the voice of the MC, now that I know who she is.

It's been a while, and I admit to having procrastinated left, right, and centre while I've tried to work out the HUMUNGOUS plot problems I discovered re the MC's motivation.

I have procrastinated with quilting. With knitting. With facebook. With looking up vicar job descriptions (No - not me! Ours is leaving after nearly 20 years with us and as I shall be standing for one of the churchwarden posts later this year, I could be involved in the process of finding a new one). With jewellery making (Part 2 of Diary of a Rookie Silversmith will come soon - but it's taking me a LOT longer to complete the pendant I'm working on than I expected, thanks to my inability to solder properly.) I have written a short story. And I have read.

All of that's fine, but it took me away from the WIP in terms of writing time. Did it help any? Don't know really. I have had time to think about the story and the new MC, so perhaps the break did me good. But the sense of frustration in knowing that I'm NOT writing and I ought to be has been difficult to overcome. A 'can't see the woods for trees' kind of moment, where you know you need to crack on, but don't quite know where to start.

Hopefully, now I'm back on the wagon, I'll stay on it.

Closure

For almost twenty years, I was a guider, working with Guides (as opposed to Brownies or Rainbows or Senior Section) in what is now Girlguiding UK. Guiding was a big part of my life - until I made the decision to give it up in 2006 for a variety of reasons.

One role I held during that time was that of Association Trainer. Between 1996 and 2004, (at a guess) I ran sessions which helped grass roots guiders run an effective programme for the girls in their units, as well as sessions about aspects of training for trainers-in-training.

It was all a long time ago - but for some reason, I'd kept the folder containing all my session plans and post-session notes and the evidence I'd had to produce when trialling the NVQ Level 3 in Training and Development (I think that's what it was called) to see if it equated to the Association's own requirements for a Training License.

Why on earth had I kept the folder? Because it had been so important to me? Because I'm a closet hoarder? Probably a bit of both, but whatever the reason, today I bit the bullet.

I took that file, and I read through it. Read everything...

There were lots of good memories in there - feedback from trainees which indicated that I had made a difference to their own Guiding experience or that I had encouraged and motivated them (which is a good job, because GirlGuiding relies on these women to give girls and young women the experiences they do), and there were details in post-session notes I'd written detailing some personal achievements too. (Presentation to over 400 women, anyone?!).

There were, of course, some not-so-good memories stirred by the reading (not least the circumstances that led me to step down from the role, which I won't go into) like getting lost on the way to a training and arriving with one minute to set up, dealing with difficult trainees, activities going wrong...

After reading it all, I realised; there really was no reason to keep it all.

So I put the lot in the recycling bin.

I don't need to hoard the paperwork, because I have memories. I have skills. I have the certificate! And what I learned then, I'm still putting to use today, albeit in a different setting. My training in training means I can put together a comprehensive creative writing session for adults or children. I can speak confidently to strangers. I am aware of the different ways people learn. And I'm sure there are lots of other things, too.

The paperwork may end up as toilet paper, but that training experience remains inside me, where it really counts. In recognising that, I am able to close the book on that time and let it go.

And today, that feels really good.

#sfh2 - Paperback release

Did you know that:

* According to Shelter, 65,000 families will be homeless this Christmas.

* At least one more family becomes homeless in Britain EVERY TEN MINUTES.
* There are 250,000 homeless people in England. That's a quarter of a million!
* 300,000+ in Britain.
* In the worst hit areas, 1 in 25 people are homeless.
* Last year, the lowest number of socially rented homes were built in 71 years. 71 YEARS!
* Tory austerity is linked to 120,000 deaths, according to a study in BMJ Open (medical journal).

These figures are shocking and unacceptable. The numbers seem too big for us 'little people' to do anything about. We are left feeling helpless and hopeless in the face of such desperate need...

Except... Today, you CAN do something to make a difference. YOU can help Shelter, the charity which helps and supports people suffering from bad housing and homelessness. And all because a collective of wonderful people have given their time and skills for free to put together and publish a second anthology of short stories on the theme of home, with every penny of the profits going direct to Shelter. 

Today is Paperback Launch Day:

Stories for Homes, Volume 2 (#sfh2) contains over 50 stories in paperback for £12.99. Already out on kindle, (£5.99) the book has received nothing less than 5 stars in every review it has received so far. We - the folk who've been involved in both the book and the online anthology, as well as everyone who helped with the cover artwork, blog tour, publicity, and line up of events to launch the book - are hoping it will be every bit the bestseller that the original Stories for Homes anthology was.

The paperback - looking good

And we'll achieve it, with your help. Please - buy the book. For yourself, or as a present. Tweet. Share. Retweet the tweets you see. Buy the ebook. Blog about it. Read it. Make a noise about it! Do all of it, knowing that you - yes, YOU - are making a difference and helping Shelter to ensure there's help for those caught up in bad housing or homelessness both now, and in the future. We already know they appreciate it: 

To finish, there's one other statistic I'd like to share with you. 

71 - the official number of deaths at Grenfell Tower; the anthology is dedicated to the victims of that tragedy.  

 

Bookcrossing and the UK Unconvention 2017

I'd not heard of Bookcrossing.

Well, not until a few months ago, when someone tagged me in a facebook post asking for local authors who'd be willing to speak at a Bookcrossing convention being held in Loughborough later in the year.

I got in touch, we had some discussions, and as a result I was booked to do a creative writing workshop on the Saturday morning for folks who'd like to have a go at it.

Now, put simply, Bookcrossing is a bit like an adventure for books. They are released into the wild, or left in designated bookcrossing places, and each book released has a unique number that means you can track its journey throughout the world. I suppose it's like the biggest book swap ever, or a large scale free library.

The Unconvention ran from Friday through to Sunday. I had various other commitments over the weekend, but decided to spend the better part of Saturday with the bookcrossers. Mainly because I don't feel it's right to turn up, do your talk/workshop, and beetle off again after a few book sales. Being an author is also about creating relationships with readers, and showing yourself to be human, approachable, and professional.

Anyway, after a slight detour to find the RNIB College (Mr Squidge and I have lived in Loughborough most of our lives, and he STILL took me to the accommodation block instead of the vocational part!) I unloaded my books and props for the workshop and had a wander to see what was going on.

The shop was selling bookplates, stickers, bookmarks and other bookcrossing related items. The raffle - full of chocolate, books, tea, alcohol, books, souvenirs from local cities, more books, and a range of other goodies - was done in the US style, where you bought your raffle tickets, then put them in the pot corresponding to the goodies you wanted to try winning. (A good way of not ending up with something you didn't want!)

Raffle goodies! No, I didn't win any...

I was given a goodie bag, with lots of lovely things in it. (Note this year's Loogabaroga Festival leaflet - have I told you I'm doing a school visit again?)

All the essentials - map, tea bags, notebook, Uncon logo stickers,
bookcrossing goodies, Loogabarooga info and even a pair of ear-rings!

Then there was the book buffet... It was amazing. Basically, there were loads of books - all labelled uniquely, and ready to be taken by the bookcrossers for themselves or to be set free. I picked up quite a few, as you can see from the pics! Loved how the books were categorised. None of this A to Z author name rubbish! It was things like 'Covers with people wearing hats'. 'Plants and gardens'. 'Rockets and space ships and cars and aliens.' It certainly made you root through the titles, because there was no telling what you might uncover.

'Number books'

'Orange and red covers/titles'

My bookcrossing stash... All very different genres.

There was also a not-so-secret-santa, a way of giving a gift to a fellow bookcrosser. Throughout the day, folks kept unwrapping their boxes and finding all sorts of bookish and sweet treats.

Anyway, the first author was due to kick things off at ten. They didn't show up; unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond their control, they couldn't attend, but the organisers weren't informed until too late to find a replacement. Except...

As I was there, I was asked if I could do a short talk instead! So I did. An off-the-cuff, totally impromptu brief history of how I got to be an author and a peek at how I work when I'm planning a novel. They seemed to enjoy it, even though I wasn't who they were expecting!

A brief stop for coffee and book signings, then it was my creative writing session. A small but select band decided to give it a go, and I offered a few of my favourite writing prompts for them to try. I think my colour charts were the favourite! And we even had some time to feedback the ideas and some very short pieces before lunch.

Hard at work...

Spoilt for choice on the colour front!

Lovely mix of colours - and the writing wasn't bad, either!

After lunch, a few more folk turned up (adding to the book buffet! I was very strict with myself and didn't pick up too many more) and there were some interesting conversations.

I had taken books to sell, because I'd have been daft to pass up an opportunity to sell a couple of books (as it happened, I sold lots more than I expected to - hooray!). And the subject of author sales came up; I think some of the bookcrossers were defending the 'passing on free books even though authors lose sales' comment that it sounded as though they've had thrown at them in the past. But d'you know what? I don't mind at all. Bookcrossers are obviously very keen readers, and they buy a lot of books. So authors DO benefit. You wouldn't expect every member of one family to buy their own copy of a book they all love, would you? Well, using that example, bookcrossers are simply part of a big family who share what they've loved reading...but one of them still has to buy the book!

I don't sell thousands of books - I don't even know whether I sell hundreds - but if someone decides to bookcross something I've written, and as a result someone enjoys a book they might not have otherwise been exposed to, I reckon that's a win, both for me and the reader. Especially if they look up what else I've written and decide to try something else...

For the first part of the afternoon, we settled into either a bookfolding workshop or a talk by Nicola Tallis, author of Crown of Blood; the Deadly Inheritance of Lady Jane Grey.

Now, I've lived in Leicestershire pretty much all of my life. I love Bradgate Park, where Lady Jane Grey used to live. I knew of her as the nine day queen who eventually lost her head - even did a school project on her once - but I hadn't realised just how clever she was or how determined a young woman she seemed to be. Definitely not the weak and feeble victim she's often portrayed as being in the history books. The talk was fascinating, and I bought the book so I can learn even more about Lady Jane Grey.

The whole day was great. To be in the company of so many people who love reading and do everything they can to share their love of books with a wider community was a real privilege. I was made, as a bookcrossing virgin, so welcome, and was inspired to join the bookcrossing community. When I tried, I discovered that, at some point in 2015, apparently I did! I can't remember doing that at all...

Anyway, if you are a bookcrosser and fancy finding me, I'm StarMark (!) of Loughborough. I have logged my book buffet books, and although it's going to take me some time to read them, I WILL send them out into the world at a later point. Probably via The Purple Pumpkin's bookshelf...

On the Sunday, lots of books were released into the wild in Loughborough; here's the Sock Man, draped in reading material! I understand Queen's Park and the bandstand were targeted too, so if you found one of the books and are enjoying it, let me know! Better still, log onto bookcrossing - you can do this anonymously and don't have to join - to say where you found it, what you thought, and where you're leaving it for someone else to enjoy...

Oh, and to finish, this made me smile. It was on the wall in the ladies loos at the college...

Blatant book plug!

Need some summer holiday reading?

Like a bit of fantasy with twists and turns that'll keep you 

guessing right to the last minute?

Why not try StarMark or Kingstone?

Both have received really good reviews (nothing less than four stars) so far - and Kingstone's only been out a month!  

And if you DO take a punt on either of them, let me know what you think. You can leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads, or anywhere else that takes your fancy...

Available to order via Waterstones, Blackwells, Barnes and Noble, the Big A and probably other places I've not discovered yet, as well as being ACTUALLY available in around thirty 

Barnes and Noble stores in the US.

Happy holiday reading!

The TBR pile

I don't think I've ever had a TBR pile before. (To Be Read, in case you didn't know what I was on about!)

At the moment, I find I'm developing quite a stash, probably because I'm writing lots and I haven't got the time to do both.

So what's in it...?

Trainspotting. I've never seen the film, though Mr Squidge has. He raves about it, so I thought I'd give the book a go.

The Grey Bastards, by Jonathon French. (Kindle) Recently won a self-published fantasy blog off, and has been recommended by Mark Lawrence (of Broken Empire Trilogy and Red Sister fame)

The finalists...

Colonial Compromises by Stephen Terry. (Kindle) I've read chunks of this over the years on the cloud, and I like Stephen's style.

The Magician's Guild, Book 1 by Trudi Canavan, (Kindle) because a reader of StarMark said he thought my style was similar to hers.

The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd (Paperback) a recommendation from my mum!

Introduction to the Old Testament and Introduction to the New Testament, both by John Drane. (Big, brick sized paperbacks!) Background reading for my course with church, and actually quite interesting. I've already dipped into earlier editions for what we've done so far, but I'm finding the historical stuff so fascinating, I bought myself copies to read at my leisure.

Anything else you think I should have on my expanding pile?

Bit quiet on the Scribbles front...

No, I've not been kidnapped by aliens or tied myself up with tinsel or given up writing...but blogging posts are definitely a bit thin on the ground this month, thanks to a recurring chest infection that is making life rather difficult at the moment.

In spite of being 7 days into a 10-day course of antibiotics, I don't feel much better than when I started them. What I've been getting up to recently (reading, sleeping, watching really bad Christmas movies, knitting) doesn't really bear writing about.

So for now, the Scribbles are a bit quiet while Squidge takes the time she needs to recover. I'll be back blogging as soon as I can.

In the meantime, enjoy all your preparations for Christmas. It's not long now...

The Crystal Keeper’s Daughter.

After a couple of weeks of not feeling very well at all (lovely new term bugs!) I finally am feeling well enough to sit down and get to grips with the WIP again. 

I'm about three chapters in, so things WILL change, but I thought I might be brave and post a chunk on the Scribbles, to mark the point at which I'm trying to be more disciplined about the writing of it. Y'see over the summer I've done all the notebooky stuff during snatched moments - the bashing out a story and getting it straight in my head and questions and playing with the shape of Zanni's story. 

This - the first draft - marks the start of the 'telling it to a reader' version instead of the 'telling it to myself' one. As such, it is raw; raw, untested, and liable to be cut if I look back in six months' time and decide that the story started in the wrong place. It might therefore be the only place this bit'll ever be published...

Be interested to know what you think.

“All out! All out for Lorisam if you please!”

            Zanni groaned and stretched. “Why’s he yelling, when there’s only two of us?”

            “I daresay he doesn’t get the chance to do it very often. Few people come this far into the mountains.” Pa shot a glance at Zanni over the top of his glasses. “At least it’s not dark yet.”

            “No.”

            Zanni was glad of it; too many of their travelling days had ended with night drawing in and the inside of the carriage being plunged into the kind of darkness which had brought the fear flooding back…

            The door opened and Stefan poked his head inside. “Here we go, sir and miss. All ready to be fed and watered and bedded down?” He held out a hand to Zanni, as he always did.

            Zanni ignored it and jumped down, wincing at the stiffness in her legs. She needed a good long walk, that’s what she needed, but she wasn’t going to get it today. The sun was already low in the sky and long shadows were creeping down the rocky slopes above them. She shivered. Better to get inside, sharpish. But inside where?

            As she took stock of her surroundings, Zanni realised they couldn’t possibly be in Lorisam. She stared at the plain square house in front of her that was tiled with grey slates and patterned with dark timbers. It looked in need of a lick of paint, some clean windows, and the faded sign swinging above the door needed oiling. The only sign of life was provided by a few scrawny chickens scratching in the dirt; there wasn’t a single other building – or person, apart from themselves - in sight.

            “Um, Stefan? This isn’t Lorisam, is it?”

            “Nope. It’s the Fox and Rooster.”

            “So why have we stopped here?”

            “Cos it’s the last place to get bed and board before Lorisam, which is another day’s travel away.” Stefan thumbed towards a point much higher up the mountain.

            “Another day?” Zanni whirled round as Pa stepped out of the carriage behind her. “Oh, Pa!”

            He’d taken off his glasses and now he rubbed the bridge of his nose, a sure sign he was tired. “It’s only one more day, Zanni. Surely you can put up with one more day in the coach?”

            “You won’t have to.” Stefan said. “It’s mules and pack horses from here on. Terrain’s too steep for carriages and definitely not wide enough when you reach the Stoppers. Not easy to get to Lorisam. That’s why no-one ever goes there. Excepting yourselves o’ course. You’re going.”

            A slow smile spread across Pa’s face. “We are, aren’t we?”

            Zanni sighed; if only they weren’t.

            “Ah, well, people has their reasons I suppose. Me, I’m heading back down after I’ve dropped you off.” Stefan shook his head and added in an undertone, “Gives me the shivers when the stones light up.”

            Zanni’s ears pricked up. “When what lights up?”

            But Stefan didn’t answer. He’d leapt up onto the carriage and was untying the bags and trunks.

            “Doesn’t look too bad, does it?” Pa said.

            Zanni couldn’t agree. They’d stayed in many different lodgings over the course of two weeks on the road, but even the worst of them had looked better than this at first sight.  

            “And anyway, it’s only for one night,” Pa continued. He did up the buttons on his coat and smoothed his hair flat. “Shall we go in? Get some dinner? I could eat a horse.” He walked towards the building, picking his way between the chickens at his feet.

            Zanni’s shoulders drooped. “Careful what you wish for, Pa. By the look of it, horse might actually be on the menu,” she muttered as she followed him.

            Inside was worse than outside - dirty floor, stained tables, mismatched chairs - lit and wreathed in oily smoke from a handful of cracked lanterns. A dog with half its fur missing slunk under one of the tables as Zanni hurried over to the low counter where Pa was heading.

            As they approached, the man sitting behind the counter eased his bulk off the stool, setting his enormous gut wobbling.

            Zanni’s eyes were drawn to a large area of pasty white flesh, exposed thanks to several missing buttons on the man’s shirt. “Uurgh!” She shuddered and looked instead at the man’s face. It was soft and round and reminded her of a ball of dough, into which two currant eyes had been pressed above a long drooping moustache. And – oh, goodness – were those bits of food caught up in the moustache?

            “Welcome ter the Fox an’ Rooster. I’m Reg. I own this place.” Reg studied them as he scratched an armpit. “Mek yersel’s at home.”

            “Thank you…Reg. I’m sure we’ll be most comfortable here.” Pa caught Zanni’s eye and his own widened above a fixed smile.  

            “Yer’ll want some dinner?” This time Reg poked a finger in his ear and waggled it around. “An’ a coupla beds?” He pulled the finger out again.

            Oh, don’t let him look, don’t let him– Zanni closed her eyes.

            “Just for the one night, if you’d be so kind,” she heard Pa say. “Tomorrow, we–”

            “Alise!”

            Reg’s bellow cut Pa off and startled Zanni into opening her eyes. A hatch she hadn’t noticed in the wall behind Reg banged open. A face appeared in the hole.

            “What?” Alise screamed.

            Reg nodded in the direction of his clients. “Stew. Twice.”

            Zanni had a brief glimpse of matted hair, a sweaty brow and crooked teeth before Alise slammed the hatch shut again. There was the muffled sound of pots and pans clattering and banging behind it.

            Reg sniffed loudly. “Drink?”

            Pa eyed the barrels lined up behind the counter. There weren’t many. “Dark ale for me and a watered wine for my daughter, please. We’ll just wait over there, shall we?” He took Zanni’s elbow and steered her towards a table by the wall. 

            Zanni sat on her wobbly chair in the pool of yellow lamplight and tried not to touch the table top. She’d probably stick to it if she did.

            “This is nice, isn’t it?” Pa said brightly as Reg banged a battered metal tankard in front of him and a chipped glass in front of Zanni.

            Zanni waited until he was out of earshot before she answered. “No, Pa. It’s not. Tell me again why we had to come here.”

             Pa reeled off his well-rehearsed list again, ticking them off on his fingers. “One, the business wasn’t doing so well.”

            That much was true. How could someone call himself a crystal seller when he couldn’t bear to part with most of the crystals that he was supposed to sell? Zanni had often wondered how Pa ever made any money at all.

            “Two, it was an opportunity too good to miss.”

            Zanni frowned. “Well, yes, but I still don’t understand how no-one else applied for the Crystal Keeper job. I mean, you know a lot about crystals for sure, but there are plenty of real experts at the Institut. Why didn’t they get considered?” Her eyes narrowed when Pa refused to meet her eye. “Pa? What aren’t you telling me?”

            He took a swallow of his beer before he answered. “I might have… er… skewed things in my favour a little.”

            “How?”

            Pa leaned across the table as though worried about being overheard. “I happened to be in the Institut when the advert went up on the vacancies board. I took it down as soon as I read it so no-one else would see it.”

            “You did what? Oh, Pa!” Zanni rubbed her forehead. She had a headache building.

            “And three,” Pa continued, taking Zanni’s free hand in his as he spoke. “Three, I could take you away from your so-called friends.”   

            “Oh. That.” Zanni put her other hand over Pa’s and squeezed gently. “As long as I’ve a lantern at night and I don’t go into small dark places alone, I’m fine. Honest.” She managed half a smile.

            “Are you sure? You had the dream just two nights ago. I worry that–”

            Two bowls thumped onto the table, narrowly missing Zanni and Pa’s joined hands.

            “Stew. Lamb an’ brains.”

            Zanni’s stomach tightened as she stared into the bowl. Floating in the thick brown gravy were several pink, wrinkled… “Brains?” she whispered.

            Alise rolled her eyes. “Not real ones. Dumplings, covered in pink cheese. House special.” She dug deep in the pocket of her apron and pulled out an assortment of cutlery and what looked like half a loaf. She selected a couple of knives and forks and dropped them on the table with the bread. “Enjoy.”

            As soon as Alise’s back turned, Zanni used her coat sleeve to wipe her cutlery. Then she poked the pink lumps with her clean knife, still suspicious.

            Pa wasn’t so cautious. He tucked his handkerchief under his chin with a flourish, speared a chunk of what Zanni really hoped was meat, and popped it into his mouth with apparent pleasure.

            “Mm-mmmm.” He chewed, swallowed, and gestured at Zanni with his fork. “Eat. It’s delicious.”

            Zanni nibbled a tiny piece of dumpling. Pa was right – it was good. With more enthusiasm she tucked into the melt-in-your-mouth, meaty stew. Eventually she wiped the last drop of thick rich gravy from her bowl with a particularly cheesy bit of dumpling, leaned back in her chair and sighed in contentment. “At least we know the food’s going to be good here.”

            “Hmm?”

            Pa was distracted, his gaze falling somewhere over Zanni’s shoulder. He appeared to be looking out of the window, so she swivelled in her chair to look too.

            The view outside was somewhat obscured, but even through the mucky glass Zanni could see a strange green glow. Her stomach clenched tight. “Pa? Pa, what is it?”

            “I think…yes…it must be…” Pa stood up quickly and almost ran across the room. He flung the door open and paused there for a moment before turning back to Zanni. “It is! Come and see.” And without another word he disappeared into the darkness.

            Zanni’s heart thudded against her ribs as slowly – so very slowly – she stood. He wanted her to follow him, outside? Into the dark? But he knew–

            Pa’s face appeared in the doorway. “Are you coming, Zanni? You simply have to see this.”                   She couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell him that she’d forgotten the fear while she was inside, near the lamp. That the very thought of going outside had filled her head with the memories, that her chest had tightened so she couldn’t breathe, she could see nothing but the blackness and–

            Her hands were snatched up, held uncomfortably tight.

            “Breathe! Breathe, Zanni. I’m here. I never thought…Zanni? Look at me. Look at me, it’s alright.”

            Pa’s frightened face appeared out of the blackness and Zanni gulped in a breath.

            “That’s it. Breathe. Slowly, in…out…”

            Pa’s half-smile, half-frown filled Zanni’s vision. She fought to take another breath, then another. After what felt like a lifetime her heart settled in her chest and the fear shrank back into the place where she tried to keep it locked away.

            Pa’s face relaxed. “That’s my girl. Better?”

            She managed a nod.

            “Good.” Pa let go of one of one of her hands and threaded the other through the crook of his arm. “Now, I didn’t tell you everything because I wanted it to be a surprise. Being the Crystal Keeper in Lorisam means looking after some special crystals. They do something quite amazing which means that the place is never in darkness.”

            While he’d been speaking, Pa had gently drawn Zanni across the room and to the door. At the threshold her feet froze and she pulled him to a halt.

            Pa smiled and patted her hand. “I’m with you. It’s safe. Trust me.”

            Could she do it? Step into the darkness outside? The sick feeling in the pit of stomach was still there, the fear still looming, ready to overwhelm her. But she had Pa with her, didn’t she… Trembling like a leaf in a breeze, Zanni gripped Pa’s arm really tight, took a deep breath and forced her feet to move.

            “That’s it. Well done. Now, the best view is from over here.” Pa led Zanni to the side of the building and pointed. “Look. Up there.”

            At first, all she could see was inky blue sky, dotted with twinkling diamonds. Then she made out the silhouette of the mountain, a deeper shadow against the blue, patterned in one area with regular patterns of light. Was that Lorisam? But before she could ask she saw the glow underneath what she assumed was their destination, a long band of bright green light stretching across the mountain.

            “What is that?” she whispered.

            Pa’s voice came out of the darkness. “It’s the Crystal Forest, Zanni. That’s what I’m here to look after.”

            “A forest? Of crystals? But it’s glowing. Green.” Zanni couldn’t stop staring. “It’s beautiful.”

            “And it glows like this every night.”

            “So…it’s never really dark here?”

            Pa kissed the top of her head. “Night time here is tinged with green. Always.”

            Zanni looked up at Pa, but his face was in shadow. “Did you know about this when you took the advert down?”

            “There might have been something written about it. I can’t quite remember.”

            So that’s why he’d moved them both so far away. Reason number four – the job came with light up crystals that meant he thought she didn’t have to be afraid of the dark. Would it work? Well it hadn’t so far. Zanni could feel her palms sweating and wanted nothing more to get back inside, in the light.

            “Right.” Pa gave her hand a squeeze. “Bed, I think. We’ve another day of travel tomorrow and it’ll be an early start.”

            A sudden thought hit Zanni as they walked back inside. “Pa, I can still have my night lantern, can’t I? I mean, the green glow doesn’t reach down here and…”

            “Of course. In fact, I might ask for one myself.” Pa grinned. “Let’s see what Reg can find, eh?”

            Up in her room, Zanni took one last look out of the window at the green glow. No wonder Pa was excited by the prospect of his new job. Then she set the dented night lantern which Reg had grudgingly found for her on the bedside table and climbed into bed. She lay on her side and stared at the flickering light. Would it be enough to keep the fear locked away for another night?

            “Please, don’t let me have The Dream again,” she whispered, and shut her eyes.

Restoring the balance...

I haven't blogged for a week.

It's not simply that I've been busy - which I have! - it's more that I've needed time to recharge my writing batteries after the effort that went into StarMark's edit. Put simply, I've not wanted to write.

How much of that is tied up with nerves about the fast-approaching publishing date, I don't know. It's almost as though I can't bear to get stuck into anything because I know there will still be tweaks and discussions that could happen at any moment and I'll have to drop everything to deal with them. And - though this is rather exciting - I'm working with a great team at the university to make an animated trailer for StarMark, dealing with pictures rather than words!

Instead of writing, I've found myself being creative in other ways. I have a friend who's expecting, and I offered to knit a baby jacket. It's almost finished - I hope that it'll be in the post today or tomorrow. Baby jackets are so cute!

I've also been painting - and not in my own house, either! Several of us from our church congregation have been working hard on the new Vicarage, to get it ready for a moving-in date next month. My own contribution has been tiny compared to those who've worked long hours and organised the decorating. Mind you, that does remind me - I must get the lounge redecorated this year...

And I've been reading, spending time with my old favourite, Terry Pratchett.

When the batteries are sufficiently recharged, I'll be off again, probably on Rurik. Or maybe on something completely new - who knows? I'll keep you posted.

And to keep you smiling in the meantime, here's toddler-Squidge watering the daffodils in Granny and Grandpa's garden, circa 1968.

Inspiring writers

Yesterday, I visited St Michael's C of E Primary School in Pelsall, to talk to Year 6 pupils about Granny Rainbow, being an author, and to read some of the stories the children had written, based on Granny Rainbow story structure.

Reading the first of the children's stories...

I had a FABULOUS afternoon! The visit was a bit different to others I'd done - I wasn't leading any workshops for a start! The time we had was spent alternating between Q&A sessions and readings (mainly the children's stories, but I took along 'Froggy Fiasco', one of the as-yet-to-be-published stories from More Granny Rainbow) with a short book-signing session at the end.

I loved reading the children's stories. Their teacher had studied Granny Rainbow's story structure and encouraged the kids to take certain characters - Granny, Old Tom, the cats - and introduce both a problem and a new character to the plot. The resulting stories (and how I wish I'd had time to read them all out!) were wonderful.

We had the appearance of the Grey Shadow (the Black Shadow's son) seeking revenge. We had rainbow chickens attacking the teacher. We had a yeti called Betty. We nearly had another little green man story - but the title was changed to the little man in green, which fitted the leprechaun in it much better! What was really spooky, though, was how close some of the children's ideas are to some of the stories in the next book!

The Q&A sessions were interesting too - they were all very intelligent questions, by which I mean I wasn't asked how I write a book, or what's my favourite food or how long does it take you to write a book. The children had obviously really thought about what they wanted to ask about me and the process of being a writer:

Which author did I look up to? Terry Pratchett and anyone who sticks at it when the going gets tough. How did I get to swim with dolphins? Holidaying in New Zealand.
Why were rainbows important to me - and which was my favourite colour? Because I love colour, rainbows help me remember God's promise, and I can't pick one! I like them all.
Had I met any famous authors? Yep - Andy Cope and Lara, (THE Spy Dog) and Jeremy Strong.
Why Granny Rainbow - why not Boy Rainbow or Princess Rainbow? And how did the world of Granny get created? Because there are elements of my own Granny in there and everyone has/had a Granny. And the more I get to know her, the bigger her world grows.

It served to reinforce that being an author isn't about book sales or rankings for me. It's interacting with the readers and enthusing kids to read and write - and enjoy it! In fact, I left them with some homework - a 'Three Things' story, to include a tin of baked beans, a dragon and a police car. After hearing their Granny stories, I don't reckon they'll have any problems coming up with some super ideas again!

And as to the highlight of my afternoon... Am I allowed two?

The first was when I was asked to go back to the school later in the year, to run a creative writing workshop.
The second was when I overheard one of the children say "I have GOT to get the new Granny Rainbow book when it's out. And StarMark."

I've two more school visits booked for March, both during World Book Week. If they go anywhere near as well as this visit, I'll be very happy indeed. And next time, I'll remember to ask someone to take photos...