2008 - Friday Fun - Crime and punishment

Crime and punishment are not new issues. As this piece from The Black Country Bugle shows.
Unfortunately, crime has always played a part in the society we live in. Ever since our ancestors began to settled down in villages and townships and establish laws, there have been individuals intent on breaking them, either through enforced circumstances, or plain ill-will. But what may have been adjudged as a crime fit for severe punishment by one generation, was perhaps dealt with more leniently by another.

The death penalty for murder and treason was still available for courts to administer just a couple of generations ago, but now such a severe punishment has been abolished in this country, and frowned upon by the majority of other nations in the world. The measure of punishment for each crime is always a hotly contested debate, with so called soft options often endgendering exasperation in many. These days, more than at any time in history, there is a widespread feeling that in too many cases criminals 'get away with murder'.
How then would the criminals of the 21st century have been dealt with during the reign of Victoria, when life was a darned sight harder than it is today? The misty, rather romanticised view of life in the Black Country 150 years ago, is brought into stark reality when you read about misdemeanours that probably wouldn't raise an eyebrow today, but back then were dealt with severely in the local courts; for instance, a month's imprisonment for throwing stones. On the 28th November, 1857, the Brierley Hill Advertiser had its usual gamut of court appearances to report. Weigh up the evidence put forward for each case in the following article, and see if you agree with the punishment dished out on these petty criminals of the 19th century:
"James Beddard and Joseph Shore, two rather rough-looking men, were indicted for damaging a quantity of clover on land owned by Mr John Slater at Kingswinford.
John Handbury, the parish constable, was in court to prove the case. In evidence he stated that he had been appointed to watch a field belonging to Mr Slater which contained some clover. On Tuesday 17th November, whilst there, he observed Beddard and Shore walking through the field with a partridge net which was opened. He did not observe them catch anything with it, but they had nevertheless damaged some of the clover. They had no business in the field, as there was no public road through it. On being further questioned, the constable stated that the damage done to the clover wasn't much more than about 2d.
Both defendants, in an impudent manner, asked the constable several questions, and, to a certain extent, denied his statement. Members at the Bench said they could not tell what the defendants wanted with the net, but it looked rather suspicious. There was, however, no doubt that they had damaged the clover, and had also been in a place where they had no business. They were summarily ordered to pay for the damage to the clover, with costs, or spend 21 days in prison with hard labour if the fine wasn't forthcoming."
Drunkenness was probably an everyday occurrence in the Black Country of the 19th century, when hard graft was forgotten for a few brief hours, anaesthetised by a few jugs of ale. But woe betide the inebriated fellow who was unable to just drink and be merry:
"A slovenly looking young man named Thomas Yardley, and Benjamin Bournes, who appeared under warrant, were fined 5s each for being drunk and disorderly in Rowley Regis, or in default of payment, spend six hours in the stocks. The same applied to Thomas Welch, a wretched looking man without either coat or waistcoat, who was arrested for being drunk and disorderly in Brierley Hill."
Canals during the mid 19th century were still a vital component of the country's transportation system, although the introduction of the railways a few years previously would soon have the inland waterways system on the wane. Roads were virtually useless in transporting the vast quantities of raw materials and finished products from A to B, so any violations of the Canal Act were acted upon immediately with stiff punishments for those miscreants responsible:
"William Bycott, a youth, was charged by Mr James Caddick, with throwing stones into the canal contrary to the Canal Act, which subjects parties committing that offence to a penalty of £10. The boy said in his defence that some people on the opposite side of the canal had been throwing horse manure at him, and, for the purpose of protecting himself, he threw a stone at them which accidentally fell into the canal, having failed to reach the other side. The bench had some sympathy for the youth but still fined him 5s with costs, or on default, a month in prison.
"James Bradley, a boatman, was indicted for an offence of this nature. From the evidence for the prosecution, it appeared that on the morning of Friday 9th November, at Kinver, he brought his boat into one of the canal locks. After the usual arrangements he took his boat out but neglected to close the top gate, thereby causing a considerable waste of water and thus violating the Canal Act. One of the canal company's agents stated that it was a very serious case, and a positive breach of the Act relating to these matters. The defendant, James Bradley, was fined 20s., the lowest fine possible, with costs. Another boatman, James Lock, was indicted for allowing a boat of his to travel on the canal from Kidderminster to Kinver without a rudder, circumstances of which rendered several parts of the canal liable to be damaged. He too was fined 20s. with costs."
Damaging other people's property has always been a criminal act, but not quite so heinous a crime as was apparent 150 years ago:
"A female named Ann Farrell, was indicted for damaging a fence belonging to a Mr Harper, in Kinver on Tuesday 10th November. From the evidence for the plaintiff, it appeared she had broken the fence whilst going to a place for water-cress. She had frequently been found on the land and had been cautioned several times before. The damage she had caused amounted to about 1d, for which she was fined with costs, or told to serve 14 days' imprisonment with hard labour."
"A kind neighbour, Ann Goodwin, wife of William Goodwin of Brierley Hill, was present on a charge of wilfully damaging a quantity of children's clothes belonging to Jonathan Williams of the same place on Wednesday November 10th.
"Harriet Williams, the wife of the plaintiff, stated that on the day in question she had a quantity of clothes out on a line close to her house. Whilst the clothes were in this position, Mrs Goodwin, who was a neighbour, went down with some "wash" for her pigs. She had to pass the clothes to get to the sties. On coming back, and when near the clothes, she put her hand into her pocket, immediately drew it out again, then appeared to throw something at the clothes. She could not then perceive what had either been thrown, or done at the clothes, but upon going to the place a short while afterwards, she found out, to her astonishment, that several of the articles were in holes - that the defendant must have sent vitriol at them. The damage amounted to about 10s.
"Mary Ann Wood, for the plaintiff, said that after the clothes had been damaged, she went to look at them. On her way back from the place, Ann Goodwin called after her and commenced talking about the clothes. She had in her hands at the time an apron, which was all eaten in holes similar to the clothes. The witness told her of this, at which she turned white, denied having committed the offence and went away. In her defence, Mrs Goodwin, in a lingo which proved her connection with "the green isle," said she knew nothing of the matter and was as innocent as anyone in court. The reason why her apron was in holes was because it had caught fire on the day in question whilst she was boiling some parsnips for the pigs, before a great fire.
"If they (the Bench) knew as much about the matter as she did, they would give her (plaintiff's wife) three months instead of taking her part. After a few further remarks by the Bench, Mrs Goodwin was ordered to pay damages of 10s. plus costs, or face imprisonment for 21 days with hard labour."
The worst crimes have always been those involving violence to a fellow human being, and thus was the case in the Black Country during these times. Wife beating was as abhorrent then as it is now, and while many got away with it and some do to this day, the court showed no mercy when sentencing labourer George Haywood:
"The defendant, Haywood, from Spring's Mire, was charged with unlawfully and maliciously wounded his wife Elizabeth Haywood, who it seemed he was living apart from. On the day of the offence, a quarrel took place between the parties, and the husband, taking up a broom stale, struck her a blow on her right arm and broke it. She was attended by Mr A. G. Mainwaring, surgeon, who described her injuries as being of a serious nature. Haywood said his wife took up the broom stale in the first instance and was about to strike him when he took it from her. The Magistrates commented on the defendant's unmanly conduct, and had no hesitation in committing him to three months hard labour. Haywood remonstrated with the Bench for leniency and to pay a fine instead of going to prison, but the Magistrates determined a fine would not meet the case and sent him down."





Story First Published: 02/12/2004

Fruit

My car smells like a jam factory and my skin feels permeated with the scent of strawberries. I did fruit tasting platters on my event stalls and I reek of cherries and plums. I think I've converted the local populace into devotees of lychees and chinese gooseberries as well as extolling the virtues of blueberries.
I am so tired though I think I'll sleep for England tonight.
Tomorrow my health walkers will be mostly eating fruit too!

Irons and fires

I've been feeling unsettled all day today. Maybe it's the weather, I don't know. More likely is that I've a few irons in a few different fires now and it makes me feel restless. I've a project I can't tell you about that I'm waiting on. I have two short stories out there and my agent has Animal Instincts that I'm waiting to hear on too. I have some chapters done on both of my new books and a few old projects that I'm thinking I might take another look at.
Lots of stuff going on at home too with the belles all having tons of stuff coming up. Dance exams - again, daytrips and residential stays and holiday plans.
Work is busy this week too. I'm womanning a stall at an event tomorrow and again at a different event on Thursday plus my regular healthy walk group on Friday amongst other things. My kitchen is full of exotic fruit ready for people to taste on the stalls and I'm trying to round up all the bits I need to take with me for the day tomorrow. Should be lots of fun.

Psst!

Check out the Little Black Dress website to enter the competition - if you visit here often I've a hunch that you'll know the answer to the question lolHERE

This and that

Happy Father's Day.
My Dad and Mr Nell's dad seemed happy with their gifts this morning. Mr Nell is busy enjoying watching the wildlife on his new feeders so thats all good.
I'm a bit worried about my angel fish, Brad and Angelina. They may look pretty but they are the dumbest fish I've ever owned. They've both grown since I had them and look very lovely, languishing about the tank but they keep getting themselves trapped in a small space between one of the clumps of weed and the wall of the tank. Twice now we've spotted them looking wild eyed and panicky when the other fish have gone to collect food and they have been stuck. I think some pruning of the weed is called for since Brad and Angie can't seem to grasp that they can't fit in their old gaps anymore.
In other news Moonlit Romance and By Grace publishing have a great new forum for you all to hang out on. Best of all you can win books! GO HERE and register, chat and hang out. Lots of cool excerpts and stuff to read.

Fatballs and nuts

Tomorrow is father's day and Mr Nell has been wanting one of these for the garden for ages. So, Boo and I took him shopping. Now we have the bird equivalent of Gordon Ramsey's in the back garden. My larder has more bird seed, nuts and fatballs than human food and the squirrel is thinking Christmas came early.

Happy Father's Day.

2008 - Friday Fun - Friday Thirteenth - superstitions

I thought this piece on superstitions from The Black Country Bugle might be interesting today

OLDEN DAYS SUPERSTITIONS CUSTOMS & BELIEFS...
Recently browsing through some old copies of ‘The Gentleman’s Magazine’ we came across the following references to Worcestershire Superstitions - some of which still ring distant bells for most of us - even in this ultra-modern age. For instance, if you spill salt do you still throw a little of it over your shoulder to neutralise the bad luck supposedly incurred?

Cutting your nails, or having them cut, on Sunday is still taboo in many Midland households and probably much further afield. In fact the Gentleman’s Magazine contributor who provided the following list of ‘occurrences considered unlucky’ stated that though he had gathered them in Worcestershire, from Dudley to the City of Worcester, itself, many were also just as widely believed in Shropshire. The list reads as follows...
(1)...To meet a cross-eyed woman who is a stranger - unless you speak to her, which breaks the spell.
(2)...To embark on a journey on Friday.
(3)...To spill salt or help another person to it, at the table.
(4)...To have crickets in the house.
(5)...To be one of a party of thirteen at Christmas.
(6)...To have a female come into your house, the first thing on New Year’s morning. So generally does this absurdity prevail that in many towns and villages young lads make a ‘good thing of it’ by selling their services to go round and enter the houses first that morning.
(7)...To have a cut onion lying about in the house - which breeds distempers.
(8)...To cross knives accidentally at mealtimes.
(9)...To walk or stand under a ladder.
(10)...For the first young lamb or colt you see in season to have its tail pointing toward you.
(11)...To kill a lady-cow (sometimes called ‘God Almighty’s cow).
(12)...To see the first of the New Moon through a window, or glass of any sort is unlucky. But if you see it in the open air, turn the money in your pocket, and express a wish for luck during the ensuing month - which is supposed to ensure same...
(13)...To have apples and blossoms on a tree at the same time is a sign of an imminent death in the family.
(14)...To have a long succession of black cards (spades or clubs) dealt to a person whilst in play, is prophetic of death to himself or some member of the family.
(15)...When a corpse is limp it is a sign of another close death in the family.
(16)...As to cutting your nails on Sunday, the following couplet is very expressive...
Better a child was
never born,
than have his nails
on Sunday shorn...
(17)...The itching of the nose is a sign of bad news. If the ear itches, you may expect news from the living. If the face burns, someone is talking about you - and when you shudder, someone is walking over the spot where your grave will be.
(18)...To accidentally leave a teapot lid open is a sign that a stranger is coming and when a cock crows in your doorway or a bit of black stuff hangs on the bars of the grate, it is a sign of a similar event...
(19)...If a bit of coal pops from the fire and in shape resembles a purse or a coffin, it pertains good luck or death.
(20)...Tea-drinking is said to foreshadow a large number of coming events, like the receipt of presents, the coming of strangers, or obtaining sweethearts and the like, merely from the shape of the grounds (tea-leaves)...
(21)...A bright speck in the candle, is a sure indication that a letter is coming to the individual to whom it points.
(22)... ‘A great year for nuts - a great year for children’ is a common saying.
(23)...To present a friend with a knife is supposed to be the instrument of cutting off a friendship...
(24)...A donkey braying is an infallible sign of rain.
(25)...To cut your hair during the increase of the moon is said to promote favourable growth.
(26)...The horse-shoe is still seen over the door in many places and fastened to bedsteads it is supposed to keep witches away.
(27)...A pillow filled with hops and laid under a patient’s bed, is an undoubted cure for rheumatism.

****

Having given his list, the writer continued in more expansive style - as follows...
In rural districts, great faith is put in rings made from shillings and sixpences given at the Sacrement and many clergymen have told us of repeated applications having been made to them for Sacrement shillings, for the purpose of keeping away evil spirits, or as a remedy for fits. Mr Watson in his ‘History of Hartlebury’ says that he believes nearly every person in that district, who was subject to fits, wore such a ring - and there is another parish in the county, where, I am told, even the Protestant poor go to the Romanist priest to have the relics of saints applied to their limbs for the cure of diseases...
A superstition exists in some parts of the county that if pieces of the Alder tree are carried in the pockets, they are a safeguard against rheumatism. In the Wyre Forest, near Bewdley, is a botanical curiosity, namely, the celebrated Pyrus Domestics, said to be the only tree of its kind growing wild in England. It is of the same kind as Rowan or Mountain Ash, which was, and even now, is vulgarly worn as a remedy against witchcraft. It is much thought of by common people and there are various traditions concerning it. The name given to the tree is ‘The Withy Pear’ - the Mountain Ash also being called ‘The Withy Tree’ - and the leaves of this tree are very similar. One of our Naturalist Field Clubs visited it in August 1853. Vegetation was then entirely confined to its top boughs which, however, still held a few pears on them...
Charms are still believed in to a great extent among the poor. Again, in the neighbourhood of Hartlebury, they break the legs of a toad, sew it up in a bag, alive, and tie it round the neck of a patient.
The peasantry around Tenbury and Shrawley, have also great faith in charms and ‘The Toad Remedy’ is there applied as in the former place - the life or death of the patient supposed to be shadowed forth by the survival or death of the toad. At Mathon, old women are entrusted with the curing of burns by charming which they do by repeating the lines of a doggerel rhyme, beginning...

There were two Angels
came from the North
with burning wings
they sallied forth
One was named Jess’ca
the other was Wray.
As their wing-es shrivel
shall thy burns go away.

In the neighbourhood of Stoke Prior, a charm was, some time ago, used by a labouring man for the removal of the thrush (or ‘throcks’ - as it is locally termed). He put his finger into his mouth and then into the mouth of a child, rubbing the gums while he mumbled out something, terminating with... ‘Father, Son and Holy Ghost ‘tiz clear who needs the throcks the most’... Then, putting down the child he would, without speaking another word, leave the house without eating or drinking, confident that he would be cured on the morrow. At least, one third of the population believe entirely in these things and allow their lives to be ruled by them, terrified are they if they hear a howling dog or the flame of a candle in its movements form the shape of a winding sheet - for they surely, as they believe, signal the approach of The Grim Reaper.
The colliers at Dudley, in the event of a fatal accident to one of their number, all of those in the same pit immediately cease work until the corpse is buried. A certain sum must also be spent on drink and this is called ‘Dead Money’. Nor will folk there allow any washing to be done on Good Friday and also firmly believe that hot-cross buns or any other bread made on that same blessed day, will never go mouldy and if kept for twelve months and then grated into some liquor, it will prove a great soother of the belly-ache...
Many superstitions also attach to the keeping of bees. It is firmly believed that when who keeps them dies, and his corpse is being carried from the house, the bee-hives must be turned at that precise moment or they will follow their dead keeper to the grave and never return to the hives. In one instance, I was told, that on one such sad occasion, one of the bearers, as he helped carry the coffin from the house, shouted to a farm servant... ‘Turn the Bees’. The fellow, being much lacking in intelligence, through close breeding, not knowing the custom and being greatly feared when the command ‘Turn the Damn Bees’ was angrily repeated, lifted the hives up and laid them down on their sides. The bees, thus disturbed, swiftly swarmed and fastened onto the attendants and mourners and for a time the corpse was left to his own devices. Hats, wigs and shawls were lost in the confusion and the dolt who had caused the scene of chaos, made haste to clamber over a five-barred gate and make his escape...

I have a new laptop

Well, it's not new exactly, I bought it on evilbay as the prices of new ones were out of my range and I couldn't justify it. I'll only be using it when we go away in the tourer, mainly just for writing. It's a cute little Dell and my youngest has immediately staked a claim to use it at home when the other computer is being occupied by her sisters or Mr Nell.
Jury is still out on Animal Instincts so to distract myself I subbed two short stories to different women's magazines. It's been ages since I did any shorts so I'm a little rusty. It was fun to have a go though and it would be nice if they got somewhere. Competition is so stiff in the short story market I'm not going to hold my breath.
Next up is the chapter I'm working on of my big book. Halfway through C2 now and hoping to finish it by the end of the weekend so I can get back to Crystal Clear and work on that one for a while.

Another step nearer!

Blue Remembered Heels is up now on the Little Black dress website and also on Facebook. It's extra special to me that my good friend, Julie Cohen's new book is being released at the same time so we're shelf mates. Then it will be Phillipa Ashley's new book. I can't wait to read both of them.

Sunny day

The sun has finally made a more permanent appearance here. So nice to start wearing summer clothes even if some of them appear to have shrunk on the hangers since last year. My new job is keeping me busy but in a nice way. I'm so happy that I made the move and am working with a really great team. We've lots of exciting things in the pipeline and it's good to be in a positive environment.
The first chapter of Crystal Clear is done and I'm feeling hopeful about this story. It's different again from my other stories and probably won't have a suspense element in it - but then again that may change as I do like a little touch of drama with my romance.
I'm counting down the days till Blue Remembered Heels is launched. I'll be putting up some times for a cyber launch as well as the one I have planned at Waterstones so all my overseas and far away friends can join in too. I suppose I'll be angsting next over people liking my story as much as I do. Authors are never happy lol.

Hero inspiration anyone?

2008 - Friday Fun - The Plough Inn Trysull

Here's another spooky tale courtesy of The Black country Bugle
Tucked away down School Road in the lovely village of Trysull, nestling in the verdant marges of the Black Country, stands the historic inn The Plough. The Plough has been a licensed house since 1833, although its origins go back much further than this would suggest. It was built in the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century as a farmhouse, and now this ancient box-framed building is Grade II listed. Some idea of the age of the building can be gauged by a section of original wattle and daub walling, complete with cow-dung and horsehair daub and lime plaster, which has been thoughtfully left exposed and framed behind glass so that visitors can marvel at the age-old building methods used in its construction.

Stourbridge lad Alan Foxall, ably aided by his girlfriend Lou, only took over tenancy of the pub in November 2004. Both immediately liked the atmosphere and period features of the place, although Lou admits that as soon as she went upstairs a strange feeling overwhelmed her. This was not helped when the previous landlord began showing them around the upstairs living quarters. Upon taking them into a lounge, the landlord motioned towards a tiny latched door in the corner. "The landlord said that it was The Devil's Room," said Alan, "but we thought that he was only joking!"
The tenant, however, was not joking, and showed them into the tiny room beyond the latched door. Upon the opposite wall, and covered by a protective glass case, Alan and Lou were astounded to see an ancient wall painting.
Such wall paintings were once a common sight through the country: before the Reformation, most churches would have been richly painted with scenes from the Bible, to instruct a largely illiterate flock. However, many people also employed the painters to work on their own homes. Working in natural earth pigments, these travelling artisan painters decorated the plaster walls of their clients in imitation of the luxurious tapestry hangings of the very rich. However, as the years progressed most of such paintings became covered by layers of paint and plaster, and surviving examples are now very rare. One of the finest examples of medieval wall paintings can be found in the church in Claverley, and Tudor wall paintings can also be seen at Harvington Hall, in Worcestershire, and in the Whittington Inn in Kinver.
What makes the painted frieze in The Plough so unusual is its subject matter. The composition includes two finely executed birds, resembling partridges, clustered near a yew tree, while another below, more indistinct, appears to be a pheasant or a peacock with its tail sweeping downwards. There is also a finely drawn horse, led by a figure, and a figure below which resembles nothing so much as a modern day huntsman.
However, this is no Tudor representation of the chase, but something more sinister. On the left is the prominent figure of a devil, complete with wings, a swishing tail, horns and a trident. Behind him he leads a figure on a rope, either that of an animal or a child on all fours, while another tiny figure dances impishly behind. The origin of the name of the Devil's Room was obvious.
The room's sinister occupant notwithstanding, Alan and Lou decided to take over the pub, and were soon hard at work on a complete refurbishment. However, it seemed that opening the door to the Devil's Room had unleashed some dark force, revealing secrets of lost children, ghoulish monks, concealed tunnels and even, it is rumoured, black magic...
Lou continued to feel that there was something not right about the atmosphere of the pub, but Alan laughed off her concerns. Lou was determined to ask a psychic friend to visit, "to see if it was just me," so in early December the clairvoyant arrived. However, even Lou was shocked by what her friend revealed.
The clairvoyant said that The Plough had once been used to practise black magic, the rituals involving young children, and that there was indeed a connection to the Devil dragging the child portrayed on the old wall painting. She felt drawn to the cellar, and told Lou that the lost souls of several children, who died in some diabolical ritual, were trapped there. Lou and Alan were particularly intrigued at this, as the previous landlord had told them that there were tunnels from the pub leading to the hill opposite, known locally as Witches Hill. A vaulted doorway down the cellar also appears to have been bricked up at some point. In fact, local legend has it that there are several tunnels beneath the village, and Alan has noticed that when horses trot down the lane outside the pub that their hooves ring hollow in certain places.
The painters and decorators, who were still busily working to get the pub into shape, had been sceptical throughout, but now received the shock of their lives. Lou had been previously struggling with an old vacuum cleaner, but had been unable to get it to work. Long-serving staff member Lucy Simpson told her that it would never work, as several parts were missing. As the psychic passed the redundant vacuum cleaner, it suddenly sprang into life, bouncing several times along the floor. Even the painters were gobsmacked!
Ceremonies, involving the lighting of candles and the saying of prayers, were performed in each room, then the clairvoyant said that she felt the need to visit the church, just a stone's throw away. Both Lou and her friend felt drawn to a particular gravestone in the churchyard, which bears no inscription but instead a curious carving. The carving appears to be that of the Green Man, a pagan deity of woods and trees; a strange image for a Christian burial ground. The clairvoyant told Lou that this was the other entrance to the tunnel leading into the cellar of The Plough, and that this is where the poor children would be marched down prior to the evil ceremonies.
Back in the pub, the paranormal events seemed to intensify rather than abate. A month ago, Lou saw the apparition of a cowled monk, wearing a brown habit with a cord tied about his middle. Rather than a transparent spectre, Lou swears that the monk appeared as if flesh and blood.
It is unusual that the spirit of a monk should appear in a building that was erected after the dissolution of the monasteries, but a visitor has informed Alan and Lou that the site may have had some previous connection with a religious order. Moreover, there may be a link with the so-called Monk's Path in the vicinity, which is also rumoured to be riddled with tunnels.
Even the normally-sceptical Alan - a man who can handle himself - has experienced strange phenomena. One night, he was so convinced that a rapidly moving figure that he had glanced, running past the inglenook fireplace, was an intruder that he chased it with an old hatchet! More disturbingly, he was recently frightened when he was pulled back into the kitchen by what he can only describe as the ghost of a tall lady; so violently, in fact, that a livid red mark was left on his arm. Eerie fleeting shadows have also been seen in the kitchen.
Another sceptic was staff member Lucy Simpson, but even she began to be troubled by the strange events beginning to occur in the kitchen. The oven, fryer and glass washer would turn themselves off and on, much to her annoyance, and she also saw plumes of smoke coming from an invisible smoker near the bar. The pragmatic Lucy now admits, "I always used to sit on the fence when it came to ghosts, but since Alan and Lou have been here I have been sliding off the fence very quickly!"
For now, the Devil's Room is consigned to storage space only, and Alan and Lou hope that whatever sinister connections there may be to their peculiar wall painting, that they stay firmly behind the closed door...





Story First Published: 03/02/2005

Writers groups

Last night was the monthly meeting for my local writers group. It's always a fun night and last night was no exception. We were looking at Gothic Novels and it turned out to be really fascinating. No one quite gets writing like other writers and it's always a joy to spend time with other people who totally 'get' what you do.
I'm looking forward to the RNA conference in a few weeks time - another precious opportunity to hang out with people who understand what it's like to have other people in your head creating stories that won't go away. The anguish of not getting that story down quite as perfectly as you want it to be and the highs and lows of the publication journey. Can't wait!

Oh so quiet

This morning is so nice. Mr Nell is at work and the belles are at school and I'm alone. Much as I love my family I love my alone time. No, rephrase that, I need my alone time. Time when there is just me, by myself, in my house with no one wanting me to do anything. I have to go to work later for an important meeting but for a few hours I have perfect peace.
I did a ton of research yesterday in between running errands and loading and unloading the washing machine. I also managed half a synopsis and the first 500 words of Crystal Clear. Hopefully by the end of the week I'll have a rough outline and a first chapter. Then I can do some more on my bigger book too.

Animal Instincts

I've done my final read through and sent it off to my agents for their opinion before I email it to my lovely editors at Little Black Dress. I hate this bit now, where I finally share my manuscript with someone else. The only other person to have read it is Jess and she gets to see the raw, unedited version in bite size chunks - by the time it gets sent off it's grown, been polished, added to and smoothed out. So now I get to settle in for a nailbiting time till I hear back - probably in a couple of weeks time.
In the meantime, I think I'll write the synopsis for my next story - Crystal Clear and do some more on my mainstream book to get a partial into some sort of shape.

Home!

Back to a mountain of dirty laundry and an empty fridge. Nothing new there then! Everyone I've met since we got back yesterday evening seems amazed that I look as if I've caught some sun. That would be because despite a couple of damp days we actually had some really nice ones and the belles got to spend quite a bit of time at the beach, in the sea. We visited some new places as well as some old favourites. This year we didn't have the added excitement of hunting for Colin Firth but you can't have everything.
I didn't do any writing at all while I was away - the first time in years - and I didn't read as much as I'd planned either. I read some short stories but even though I had Olivia Gates new book for Desire, which, incidentally has the most gorgeous cover, I didn't read it. I'm keeping that for when I get some nice quiet time so I can savour it all in one go.
Hopefully, I'll now be fully refreshed and ready to start my other projects.

Holiday

On holiday in my beloved Wales, back in a week!

little squee!

Saturday 12th July 12-2 at Waterstones, Merry Hill Centre, Dudley

Come and buy my book - you know you want to - I'll even sign it for you!

Done!

I finished fiddling with Animal Instincts. I'm sure my lovely editor will find fresh things for me to tweak when she sees it but for now it finished - phew.
So now I'm sorting out things ready for Blue Remembered Heels launch party. I'll be putting up the times and dates of various happenings over the next few weeks after my holiday.
I've also taken the plunge and bought my train tickets for the RNA conference and will post my form to Jan tomorrow. It was a big decision to go as money is tight this year with my reduction in days but the conference really sets me up for a new writing year. Plus, I get to see all my friends. Luckily Mr Nell is on days that weekend and I can arrange childcare for the belles.
I feel quite excited now! I heard some other exciting news today on a potential project but until it's all confirmed I can't tell you anything. I know - what a tease!

My baby

This is Miss La, my youngest belle. Tomorrow she hits double figures - the big 10. I feel old all of a sudden and a bit sad that these kind of days are disappearing as the teen years get closer.
(Note Pudding - the dog in her bag - he's the reason she has no clothes in her wardrobe as she's turned it into his house)

still adit

I'm still aditing Animal Instincts. I adit rather than edit. Different writers all have their own methods of drafting their novels. Some writers write out of sync and sew the scenes together after like a patchwork quilt. I can't do that, I'm a linear writer, I start at the beinning and plough through to the end. Some write much more than they will ever keep, going back after and paring down till the book is as they want it to be. I know writers who cut up to thirty thousand words this way - ouch.
I write very sparingly on the first draft. The bones of the story are there and there's an indicator of the emotions and theres enough description to place the scene but I know I'll be at least 10k under when the first draft is done.
That's when I adit. I go back through, foreshadowing, adding colour, light and shade. I raise the emotional stakes and get under the skin of my heroine. I look for different things on each pass through. For instance yesterday I jiggled my opening because it's niggled me all through the book that the opening picture of Clodagh and Immi wasn't quite right.
I now I need to add emotion to the ending - right now the stakes need to be higher, I need to feel that Clodagh and Jack might not happen after all and what this will mean for Clodagh. I also need to foreshadow Clodagh's secret, the heartache she's been carrying all through the book. The points are there but they need colouring in, fleshing out and to be made more intense.
Hopefully I'll be done before next weekend as we go away for the week for our annual holiday with our friends then.

2008 - Friday Fun - Hello me luvver's - Dolly Allen

This is a tribute to a much loved and missed Black Country Comedienne, a true star of her time and famous throughout the Black Country.


Dolly Allen was born Doris Evelyn Baugh, at Wordsley Workhouse, on 9th April, 1906, and was orphaned just 10 days later. She was adopted by William and Elizabeth Parker, who renamed her Dorothy, and she grew up at 78 Stourbridge Road, Halesowen. Her first taste of the stage came during the First World War when she sang "England's in Need of Soldiers and Sailors" in a talent competition at the Drill Hall cinema in Halesowen. Dolly's first job was, aged 13, at James Grove's button factory, and after a year she went to work at Hackett Brothers' nut and bolt works in Victoria Street.

It was here that Dolly began to hone her natural wit and humour among her work colleagues and there she met her husband Leonard Allen. They were married in 1926 at Stourbridge Register Office.

During the Second World War Dolly started to do "turns" at works parties and in 1946 she appeared at Lye Church Hall as one of Harry Hatton's "Local Discoveries". From that she began to appear at clubs and chapel groups in the Halesowen area, performing her humorous monologues. Dolly first appeared on radio in 1956, on the Manchester-based show "When You're In" with Bill Maynard. Through the 1960s and early '70s she continued to appear at clubs and shows in the Black Country, and in 1968 she won the Black Country Dialect competition at the Dudley Festival of Music and Drama. By that time she had left Hackett's and was working as a cleaner.

Television

It was at the age of 69, in 1975, that Ray Hingley invited Dolly to join the team of the Black Country Night Out. She was an instant hit and from that came records and appearances on television and radio. The Black Country Night Out went on tour to Spain and Canada, entertaining the ex-pat Black Country communities. In the 1980s Dolly appeared as an extra in 'Crossroads' and featured in schools' programmes on English dialects. By now Dolly was firmly established as the queen of Black Country comedy, with her trademark straw hat with its turkey feather and her catchphrase of "Hello, my luvvers!", and she made many appearances in charity fund raising shows across the region. She carried on performing right up to the end of her days and she died, after a short illness, at Sandwell Hospital on 25th June, 1990. Her funeral took place at Dixon's Green Methodist Church, Dudley, followed by a brief service at Gornal Wood Crematorium, where there is a commemorative plaque to her memory.

Here's one of Dolly's jokes.
Dolly - Ah wish I knew where I wuz a gonna die
Stooge - Why's that then, it wo dew yer no gud.
Dolly - It would, I shouldn't goo a nigh it

aditing time

I think I've almost succeeded in reclaiming the house from the super giant dustbunnys. I've discovered all the things the belles had been getting away with while I finished the draft - like my youngest has once again removed all her clothes from her wardrobe and hidden them under her bed so she can turn her closet into a house for her bear factory dog - called Pudding.And my eldest appears to have entered for world's messiest room while the middle belle's been conducting chemistry experiments with the contents of the shampoo and conditioner bottles in the bathroom.
So now it's time to adit, polishing up Animal Instincts so it all makes sense, removing any inconsistencies, layering in some description and some emotion and taking out all the just. so's and really's that have crept in while I wasn't looking.
Wish me luck - I'm going in!
Although it can't be scarier than the belles bedrooms.

Is it me?

I don't quite know what's happening lately, if it's the hot weather, me or just that somehow I've managed to tick God off somehow but I've had some really strange things happen in the last few days.
The first was at Marks and Spencers, I paid for some things I'd got for my daughter with vouchers. Not a prob, they are the reward ones you get if you have a card and I'd got the exact amount. The woman on the till said 'we don't give change with those' and I said it was okay I had the exact amount. In passing I mentioned was it a new thing as I'd had change from them once before at another store. The next thing I knew she was giving me a lecture on how I was wrong about that. She carried on telling me how wrong I was to the point of calling out across the shopfloor as I was walking away so the whole queue could hear how wrong I was. Huh? I hadn't asked for change, I'd given her the exact amount, it was a casual remark of something I'd experienced but NO I must be either an idiot or a liar because in her 43 years at Marks she'd never known such a thing. Very odd reaction.
Then today I went to take my youngest belles shoes to drop them off at the orthotic dept at my hospital something I have to do twice a year and have been doing since 2002. Today, no can do, apparantly she now has to have a GP referal and then they'll send an appt and then they'll take her shoes. In the meantime her shoes don't fit and are close to having a hole in the bottom. Why has no one written to tell us of the change? Why can't they carry on as before and just slot us into the new proceedure for her next pair of shoes? When I suggested they should write to people and let them now, I was told it would take too much time. Well duh, it's going to be fun in their dept come July/August when thousands of parents appear with shoes for the new school year and the dept won't take them.
So, is it me?

Hot

It's really warm here again and my feet have suddenly ballooned to look like what my youngest says resemble 'two puffy penguins'. I'm trying to get the between book writing/editing house cleaning done but it's so warm it's difficult to keep going. I typed up an old short story that I had in longhand this weekend. Not sure what I'll do with it, it's a bit of an odd tale.
I also sent out my newsletter so if you're one of my subscribers it should be in your inbox. I hold subscriber exclusive contests so if you aren't a subscriber and you want to join in - go to my website and sign up then email me and I'll send you a copy of the Spring newsletter.
I'm also trying to finalise my launch party details for Blue Remembered Heels - exciting stuff!

Tagged

Amanda tagged me to do this meme
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people and post a comment to the person who tagged you once you've posted your three sentences.
So here goes!
My nearest book happened to be Jennifer Crusies Charlie All Night
"Only on poker nights," Bill's scowl deepened. "Which I won't be going back to if you don't stop stirring up trouble on the air. He wanted me to fire you, but I told him I couldn't. Unbreakable contract."
"We don't have a contract."

I tag Jessica, Lis, Liz Fenwick,Phillipa and Sally L

Squeeeeee!

Okay, so I may be just a teensy, weensy bit biased but isn't my new cover gorgeous! I love the sort of Dick Bartonish feel and it sums up my story so well.

Ta-dah!!!!!

It's done - finally the first draft of Animal Instincts is finished. Lots to polish and adit to get it ready but for now I can let it sit for a week and mess with it later looking at it with fresh eyes!

Back

Had a few days away at Tenbury Wells with the belles for the bank holiday. The weather could have been kinder, we had colossal thunderstorms. I didn't take my ancient compaq so I still have the last chapter to finish but I also managed to put my back out on Saturday, washing the eldest belle's hair for her. So I'm dosed up on ibuprofen in large quantities and my time sitting at the computer will be rationed.
The weather is finally warming up and we were thrilled to spot a grey wagtail skimming over the river at the weekend and a stoat racing across the field. There were also some very cute fluffy yellow ducklings. Seems like spring has finally sprung!

2008 - Friday Fun - A history of Buttons

Not a subject that you would think would be very interesting but this is the story of a local firm. (courtesy of The Black Country Bugle)
James Grove and Sons Ltd. was founded in 1857 by James Grove, a qualified die-sinker who, after working in the button industry for a few years, decided that he and his wife Ann Elizabeth should set up their own button manufacturing business at the centre of Halesowen. Dress fashions at the time meant there was a great demand for this important clothing accessory, with buttons needed for almost every garment worn by men, women and children. James Grove faced stiff competition from over a hundred other button manufacturers throughout the Midlands, but he stuck to his convictions, and with his ability as a gifted craftsman he was able to produce buttons of the highest quality, made from horn and hoof, many of them compression moulded, with crests of either fancy or military insignia.
From small beginnings the firm began to increase in size and a potentially huge contract to supply both sides in the American Civil War - Union and Confederates - with military buttons for tunics, etc., was realised during the period 1861-5. A move from the Birmingham Street site in the centre of Halesowen, where room for expansion was impossible, was essential, and in 1866 a site called Bloomfield was chosen on the Stourbridge Road, just outside the town, where the company has been making buttons ever since.

The last 150 years or so have not always been plain sailing, for instance the buttons supplied to for the American Civil War were never paid for, and there have been times when the company has been pushed close to the wire for one reason or another. But the fact James Grove and Sons is still a viable and important player in the Black Country's family of manufacturing industries, is testament to an immensely strong loyalty that has existed between both employers and employees over the last century and a half.

May Day

May already! It's polling day here - if it's voting day for you too don't forget to vote!
(Still writing!)

Signs

The belles are writing messages in the dust in the lounge, the fridge is almost empty and the laundry pile is assuming Mount Everest proportions. Almost finished the book.

Pinball wizard

I've written myself to a standstill but I can actually see the finishing post now. It's no longer a distant glint on the horizon, instead it lures me ever forward, the ticker tape stretched in front of me. All I have to negotiate is the terrible trap of discovering that my new computer came with a deadly procrastination device.
Pinball
Next to bingo - Pinball is my great weakness. Must resist temptation and finish this last 5000 or so words. Must not give in to the siren call of the bumpers and flipper bars, wormholes and hyperdrive.
Argh.

The book that never ends...

aka Animal Instincts. I'm determined to finish my draft this week. I do tend to write a fairly clean first draft which means I have to get the story pretty much as I want it first go around. I should be on the penultimate chapter now and technically I am, but I have a lot of story to finish if the ending isn't to feel rushed.
So instead of having one and a half chapters left to go I suspect I may end up with about three more. I knew this would happen - it always does when your characters take over.

2008 - Friday Fun - The Haunting of St James Church

Courtesy of The Black Country Bugle from Feb 10th 2005


It was late on a Saturday evening in 1881 when the Rev. James Yates Rooker, vicar of St James's in Lower Gornal, left the back door of his vicarage. He had heard voices in the back yard, and was understandably concerned. He had been tending his Gornal flock since 1848, and he was well-loved by the villagers; there was scarcely a social improvement made in the village without his instigation, and during the bloody and frequent wage disputes which often hit the local nail and coal industries, he could always be looked upon for support.

However, the Rev. Rooker knew more than anyone how easily some of his flock could be tempted from the path of righteousness. Only two years before, he had been crossing The Green, near the church, when he encountered Charles Hartland, a former member of the church choir. Hartland had been in trouble with the police, and Rev. Rooker, as a local magistrate, had done everything in his power to help the man, yet Hartland had sworn revenge. On that fateful day he intended nothing less than murder, and had shot the cleric in the head. It was only by a miracle that the vicar's life was saved, and it took him a full twelve months to recover from his terrible injuries. However, Rooker had not borne any bitterness towards his would-be assassin and one time friend, and his faith in his Gornal parishioners had been justified when they clubbed together to donate the huge sum of two hundred pounds to send him to Royal Leamington Spa to recuperate.
Although he was now fully recovered, despite the fact that the bullet was to remain lodged in his head for the rest of his life, the shooting incident was still a hot topic of conversation throughout the parish. Several villagers claimed to have seen the shade of Hartland lurking about St. James' graveyard after dark, even though Hartland himself was firmly locked up in prison. Others claimed to have seen a ghostly figure walking the field between the vicarage and the churchyard, performing strange antics, and subsequently more Gornal folk came forward, telling of hearing ghostly voices at night emanating from the God's Acre.
The rumours that the graveyard was haunted spread through the village like wildfire, and such was their effect that people became frightened of walking past the churchyard for fear of being attacked by this nameless horror themselves, and soon even loyal female members of the choir refused to go to the church after nightfall unless protected by male escorts.
The police kept an eerie vigil in the churchyard over several nights, but came no closer to the truth of the matter. A group of stout-hearted village lads banded together and swore to protect the vicar and his family, and also kept watch on the good reverend's house. However, on the very first night this almost ended in violence, when one of the party arrived to take his own turn at sentry duty. Not being recognised, the hue and cry that he was the would-be assailant was raised, and it was only by running into the backyard of a house that he escaped!
The Rev. Rooker was a rational man, his faith unshakeable, yet these rumours still unsettled him; so on this night, and hearing the voices outside, he wasted no time in flinging open the back door by way of a bold challenge.
To his alarm, the poor reverend was immediately seized and blows were rained upon him. As he pummelled his fists into the unfortunate cleric, the attacker shouted, "Yer've come to kill the vicar, 'ave yer? Ah've sworn to kill yer, yer villain, an' Ah'll do it quick!"
The Rev. Rooker's own personal vigilante committee, along with the police, had already been alerted by the same voices in the yard that had disturbed the vicar, and now came rushing to the scene. Holding up their lanterns, there was a sigh of relief when they found that the assailant was no ghost nor, indeed, the doppelganger of the avenging Charles Hartland. He was in fact a neighbour who, having enjoyed more than a drop of the local strong brew, had heard voices and come rushing to the vicar's aid, then mistaking him for an attacker!
Despite the farcical events of the vigilante patrols, the parishioners were still living in mortal fear of attending church, and the now-recovered Rev. Rooker was at his wit's end. In desperation, he consulted one of the villagers, who had the reputation of being a "wise woman". The woman advised Rev. Rooker to cut a four inch square piece of turf from the grave of a young man whom, she said, could not rest in his grave due to a guilty conscience and was caught in limbo, wandering the scene of his burial and moaning his woes in a ghastly voice. The square of turf, in accordance with the custom, was placed under the communion table in St. James's, where it lay for four days. Following this, promised the wise woman, the man's soul, as well as those of any other spirits caught in earthly limbo, would be laid to rest in peace.
This form of exorcism appears to have echoes of an eleventh century Anglo-Saxon ritual known as the "land ceremonies charm". This ritual combined Christian and pagan elements, and aimed to ensure the fertility of farmland. The ceremony involved cutting four pieces of turf from a field, which were then anointed with oils and runes and then taken into church. A Mass was said over the turves, which were then taken back to the field and replaced.
Whatever its origins, the charm appeared to have worked, on the superstitious parishioners at least, as reports of supernatural activity seemed to abate. However, it was only after they had ceased for sometime that the dark churchyard ceased to inspire terror among Gornal folk at night time, and moreover, now and again the churchyard is reported as the scene of more ghostly activity, even after long spells of quietude.

(apologies for lack of a pic but Blogger doesn't want to play today)

Are you sitting comfortably?

I have a new chair in my office at home. This is very exciting for many reasons. 1) I only just restarted using my office since my laptop broke and I'm back on a desktop and 2) I have never ever had a new office chair before. Not at home, not at work, anywhere. Now I have a new one that I chose myself and Mr Nell has built it. It goes up and down and swivels and tilts, it has arms. It's black pretend leather and is all shiny new.
It doesn't make strange noises or threaten to dump me on my back if I lean back too far or have a hole in the seat where small fingers have picked out the foam.
I have a brand new seat and it's all mine - mine I tell you bwahahaha
Nope, not excited at all.

Swirling in the mists

By strange coincidence the weather today has mirrored the scenes I've been writing in Animal Instincts. Swirling mists, drizzle and low cloud. I may just finish this draft this week - yay! It always takes time finding any loose ends and tying them all together. There are lots of clues and trails in the plot, foreshadowing of events that are all coming to a head along with Clodagh and Jack's feeling for each other.
I also have Immi and Marcus to sort out too.
I'm longing to get going on my bigger book again and I have a great story for another Little Black dress if I get the chance of another contract. Lots of fun research to do on it but a cool story. The heroine is clamouring in my head to tell it - sure sign that Animal Instincts is almost done.

2008 - Friday Fun - Vanishing Violet

This story is reproduced from The Black Country Bugle - a local paper which carries many fascinating stories. The tale of Vanishing Violet appeared in March 2004
The Strange Case of Vanishing Violet
We all love a good mystery, whether it’s a gripping detective yarn, or a real event. So when people suddenly go missing, speculation inevitably runs riot. Remember the respective disappearing acts of Lord Lucan, and Midland M.P. John Stonehouse? The media ran wild with weird and wonderful theories.

Back in Edwardian times, such cases attracted the same media interest. So when a former Wolverhampton resident disappeared, in odd circumstances, tongues were set wagging. In January 1909, an incident known as the “Welsh Cliff Mystery”, involving the disappearance of former Wolverhampton socialite, Violet Charlesworth, seized the public’s attention. The whole country wanted to know what had happened to Violet. The real-life Edwardian mystery was enough to baffle even Agatha Christie’s great fictional detective, Hercules Poirot!
At its heart, was pretty, young Violet Charlesworth, reported to have been involved in a tragic car accident in Wales. In the early hours of a moonlit January morning, Violet was said to have been hurled to her death, over the cliffs near Penmaenmawr. But, despite a thorough search of the area, there was no trace of Violet’s body. And the explanations given by the “survivors” of the accident just didn’t add up.
The papers went into feeding frenzy, as the plot thickened. Violet was supposed to have been travelling with her sister and her chauffeur, both of whom suffered only minor injuries in the alleged accident. Suspicions were further aroused since the car had only suffered “trivial damage”. So what had really happened, and where was Violet?
The stories given out by the sister and chauffeur were extremely shaky, fuelling widespread rumours that Violet had faked her own death. Soon, there were countless reported sightings of her across the country as gossip about the vanishing lady reached fever pitch.
Violet was said to have been seen boarding a ship at Holyhead, obviously fleeing abroad. Other reports told of sightings in Ireland and Sussex. Then, a man called Roberts came forward with an alleged eye-witness account. Roberts claimed he’d been in the vicinity of the alleged tragedy when he heard the sound of an approaching car engine. He described seeing the car on the brink of the cliffs. The next minute he heard the sound of breaking glass. He also claimed that Violet’s sister told him there had been an accident, and that a lady had gone over the cliff. Roberts said he searched the area, but no body was found on the rocks below, or in the water.
Violet was something of a shadowy character, so it’s little wonder her disappearance caused such speculation. Originally from Stafford, she was well known in Wolverhampton social circles. Wulfrunians described her as always being smartly dressed, with a pretty figure. But few really knew much more about her. For a while, she lived in Whitmore Reans, Wolverhampton. Apparently, in some style! She was known as “lady of wealth” and had a reputation for speculating, on a large scale, on the Stock Exchange.
Whatever her circumstances, Violet was a familiar figure in the Tettenhall Road and Whitmore Reans areas of Wolverhampton. She was frequently seen out walking with her inseparable companion, a massive St Bernard dog. By all accounts she was friendly, often stopping for a chat with local tramworkers. Sporting the latest fashions, the attractive young woman cut quite a dash, with a faint air of romance and mystery about her. Which, on its own, was enough to get her noticed. And, to the delight of local gossips, it was generally thought she’d inherited a great fortune.
But, as time passed, and Violet was nowhere to be found, uglier rumours surfaced. A Derby woman claimed Violet had borrowed £500 from her, on the strength of a will she was expecting to come into. So was Violet a clever con artist, on the run from her victims, and other creditors?
It seemed Violet may have owed vast sums of money. She certainly had lavish tastes, and maintaining her expensive lifestyle, and cars didn’t come cheap. After her disappearance, a London stockbroker claimed she owed him more than £10,000, which she’d lost on dodgy business deals. Not surprisingly there were many rumours she was on the run, and heading for a new life in Australia!
Vanishing Violet was shrouded in mystery, and public speculation ran wild. There were rumours of a secret and shameful romance. And, in those distinctly “unliberated” times, when women weren’t even allowed to vote, as a wealthy, young, single female on the loose, she was seen as a threat. Was she a calculating con artist, a goldigger on the make? Or did she simply run up too many debts with her taste for the good life? Did she really plunge to her death in Wales? Or did she fake a fatal accident, to start a new life elsewhere? We’ll probably never know.
The only certainty is that Violet’s creditors were asking the same questions. Just weeks after her disappearance, a 25th birthday party for the missing Violet was held at her last known address. Creditors and other interested parties filled the house in St Asaph, in Wales, but they waited in vain. Violet never showed up.
Disgruntled creditors seized her household possessions. But with Violet’s debts amounting to £13,000, money from the sale of her furniture barely covered the rent she owed.
According to one of her friends, Violet had an artistic streak. Apparently, she was a songwriter, with enough confidence in her work to send a song, entitled “Come Back to Scotland”, to the King. Another copy was sent to famous Scottish comedian, Sir Harry Lauder. But this tiny glimpse into her character is just one piece in a puzzling jigsaw of a life. And the vanishing lady remains an enigma.

Grand day out

My companion and I had a very busy and nice day out in Cardiff. The millenium centre is a very lovely building and I itched to go on a tour. Methinks I may have to go back another day. After the conference we went in search of a Torchwood souvenir for the eldest belle but drew a complete blank. We went into one of the public buildings next to the Senedd and had to put our bags through a metal detector while we walked through the arch. My colleague went through just fine but as my bag went through the man doing the scanning got all excited and called his companion over.
'Theres a suspicious object' Scan man
'where?' other official
'There, see that?' scan man
'It's a toy car.' other official
What? Doesn't everyone carry a metal dinky car in their handbag? I have lots of weird crap in my bags including my coffee sticks.
What's the oddest thing you carry?

Verdict

Finally on Charlie from MandB and as you can guess it's not good. Yep, it's an R. A nice R and an offer to work with an editor and to keep submitting. Hmmm, I'll have to have a think about that.
Writing for MandB has been my ambition since I was thirteen. I love Jessica Hart, Liz Fielding, Kate Hardy, Michelle Styles, Fiona Lowe, Julie Cohen, Kate Walker, Robyn Donald, Helen Bianchin and Betty Neels books and many others too numerous to mention. The editors I've worked with there are lovely people and I have great deal of admiration for Karin Stoeker but...
You knew there was a but. I don't know if it's time to re-evaluate my dream. I've been fortunate in finding wonderful homes for my stories with Little Black dress, Samhain, Moonlit Romance and The People's Friend. I know my stories are richly peopled and my plots are - well - different so it was always going to be a stretch to fit comfortably into readers expectations of a line.
I think I may just have to carry on building a new dream and simply enjoy reading MandB instead of writing them. I need to think.

Theme for Blue Remembered Heels

As I shared the song for Animal Instincts the other day I thought I'd share the song that for me is a soundtrack for Blue Remembered Heels. There are a couple but this is one of them. Got to love the girls hair in this video

Bliss!

I finally managed to sit down to write some more of Animal Instincts today. I finished off a couple of crits that I'd had for a while and sent them off and mailed a package to Lis. I caught up with my lovely editor at Moonlit Romance and with one of my best friends.
With any luck I should get a nice chunk of Animal Instincts done tomorrow as I have the house to myself - sheer heaven. I am quite a sociable person but only if I get chunks of time when there is just me, by myself, alone.
Mr Nell took me to look at some show homes today. We aren't thinking of moving, we were just curious. I hate this new trend for three storey houses. No land with them and tons of stairs everytime you want a cup of coffee. Hideously expensive too and I don't know who had done the interior design but it was a migraine inducing mess of turquoise and aqua patterns. I'll stick with my shabby and faded look instead. Very interesting for book research though.

Theme song for Animal Instincts

I know I mentioned this before but this song is sooo much Clodagh and Jack's song.

And the word is good

My word/office prog that is. Now all I need is the data from my disk and my email glitch to be sorted and normal service will be restored. I'm not certain when exactly as i've a busy week this week. I'm going to Cardiff on Wednesday for work purposes and that will take a huge chunk out of the week mainly because Great Western Trains schedule doesn't exactly match mine. I hate changing trains - I have this paranoia that I'll miss the change slot or get on the wrong train.
In my normal life Boo has a netball tournament this morning and it finishes at exactly the same time that I need to collect Shaggy from ballet. Naturally the two places are twelve miles apart - mmm, looks like I'll be late or early for one of them.
The start of the new term has also bought a fresh round of money demands from the schools. So Far it's £30 for a trip to LLandudno for Boo and La, £12 for the science museum for Shaggy and £25 installment for her weeks residential art course in July. £38 for guitar lessons for La and then there are guide fees and brownie fees for the term.
Sigh - I'd better hurry and write faster, I need more money.

Coming soon

My friend's husband is coming round tomorrow to put my programmes on the new computer so I can finish my book. Yay!!!! I can't wait to get stuck back into Animal Instincts so I can wrap this one up. I can tell I'm near the end because I have a lovely idea whispering in my ear for the next one.
I just might have to give in to the voices and scribble a long hand outline to make them go away so I can finish writing Clodagh and Jack's story.
Lis sent me a cool link today showing Blue Remembered Heels up for pre order on Amazon Canada - squee!

I'm back - oh yeah!

Well, I have a new computer. I'm busy reinstalling stuff and hoping my friends dh will come over and put my missing progs on for me so I can upload all the stuff from my flash and from my disk of saved the data that the computer man managed to save for me.
I need to get my email addy book imported and then I might even get some of my missing emails back. Yay!!!!!!
The good news is that Jess has been her wonderful and fantastic self and managed to crit my chapters to date of Animal Instincts. I've been busy layering and writing on the very old craptop and I'm getting there - if I could just decide how it ends and who the bad guy/girl is I'll be done. Hopefully, all being well I'll be typing the End in a couple of weeks. Then comes the next few rounds of layering and polishing.

Laptop RIP

Well, the verdict is in. My lovely HP laptop is officially dead at only fifteen months of age. The computer man has managed to put all my data onto a disk ready for when I have a new computer to load the info onto. In the meantime I have to struggle on with my ancient Compaq.
Thankfully my wip was all up to date on my flash drive and I've been beavering away trying to get Animal Instincts finished. I'd hoped to have it done while I was away but it wasn't to be. I have about four chapters or so and a whole load of layering to add in. It's going to be a longer book than Blue Remembered heels, probably a similar length to Things To Do.
Tomorrow is my first official day at the new job. I'm so excited, there is tons of work to be done but it's such a wonderful project with such a lot of variety that I can't wait. I feel a bit like the new girl at school, as it's silly things like not knowing where the stationary is or how to work the copier or who to pay the coffee money to that will take me a while to get used to.

Phew!

I'm back from my holiday but minus my laptop.This means I'm typing on my old slow one with the letters missing. My laptop is looking terminally ill. The computer man is looking at it but he didn't sound hopeful, so if my posts become a bit sporadic thats why. It also means that I know there were people who emailed me before I left that I don't have addresses for. If you were one of those people and I haven't replied to you please resend - Juliet? I think you may be one.
It also meant I didn't get the writing done that I'd planned while I was away. Luckily I had up to date back ups on my flash stick so I'm hoping that I haven't lost anything.
So if anyone has recomendations for a new laptop please let me know - or if anyone is using PC Worlds business scheme and has any info that would be helpful too.

By Request 4

I'll try my best to answer the questions that Janet and some other writers have posed. If you have more questions about writing then please feel free to ask away in the comments and I'll try to answer.
So, we've established that the internal plot is the important one.

a)How do you deal with the backstory underpinning those internal conflicts? How much do you reveal at the start of the story? (early chapters)
I find I drip feed small snippets of information in gradually that gives the reader the impression of the heroines life and character and usually there is just a small paragraph or couple of lines here and there that gives the reader a gimpse into the heroines thoughts or feelings. Those in turn hint at the conflicts ahead. Here's an example from A Taste of Summer. This part is when we first meet Cassidy.

Cassidy made her way slowly back along the seafront, licking her ice cream as she strolled along. The summer sun warmed her skin as she stopped to lean on the sea wall. The beach looked busy with families and groups of small children paddled in the shallows. Surfers in black wetsuits rode their boards on the waves, while younger children tried out boogie boards.

All around her, people enjoyed the sunshine and the sand. Automatically, she glanced at her wrist to check the time. A pale band of skin showed up against the honey tan of her arms and she remembered she’d deliberately removed her watch for the day. She’d hoped that without the constant reminder of the time the day would pass less painfully.

So we learn from this that something was due to take place that day that she doesn't want to be reminded about. Then a little further on:


“Cassidy? Cassidy Jones?”
Her heart sank. It looked as if she had been wrong about not meeting anyone who knew her here in New Bay. Of all the people she hadn’t wanted to bump into,
“Hello, Josh, what a surprise to see you.” Josh Parker was definitely one of them.
He crossed the paved area between the tables to come and stand at her table, a bewildered expression on his face. “What brings you here? I thought you and Ethan were supposed to be headed for the Seychelles.” He looked around as if he expected Ethan to suddenly materialize beside her.
Cassidy bit her lip. It looked as if her famously work-obsessed boss hadn’t heard the news.
“I didn’t get married.” She tried not to sound terse. In her head she’d practised how she would tell people and explain to them what had happened. Now, confronted in the last place on earth she had expected to see someone she knew, all her carefully chosen phrases deserted her. “Ethan dumped me.”
Josh looked confused. “So, you’re not married?”
Cassidy clenched her teeth. “No.”
“Oh.”
She did a mental eye-roll. For a supposedly intelligent man who’d built up a thriving dotcom marketing business, Josh could be mystifyingly dense.

There's no big internalising of the conflicts, no ong passages of her anguished feelings but in two short pieces the reader can already see where this story is heading. The reader can also empathise with Cassidy. This is a girl who likes to keep up appearances, not ony has she been jilted but it's been embarressing.


b)And what techniques do you use to reveal it? As you can see from the above snippets, I like to set the scene for the reader so they can picture that seafront, hear the gulls and the waves on the sand. Then I add in the smal details about the heroine or hero's past and how it affects them. Cassidy has removed her watch because she finds that watching the time is too painful. Again a litte further on we read:
In the distance, above the sound of the sea, she heard the faint chimes of the church clock striking four. Cassidy blinked back a tear. She should have been wearing her designer wedding dress and greeting her guests now. Instead all she had to look forward to was supper on a tray and her boss for company.

So Josh isn't just a random acquaintance, he's her boss and today should have been her wedding day. So athough she's removed her watch and tried to hide hersef away, she's ended up running into her boss and all around her are reminders of what the day should have held for her. Cassidy is an ostrich, she avoids problems and tries to create her own reality. Contrast this with Josh:

Cassidy plunked her hot chocolate down on to the coffee table with a thud, splashing a little of the contents over the brim. “Just how big a party have you planned?”

“A dozen or so of my old surfing friends and their girls. Before I started the business I used to spend every summer down here catching some waves and hanging out with my buds. It’s really good to catch up with everyone again.”

“And I suppose the other party you mentioned will be the same sort of thing?”

“Yeah, barbeque and beers. I even bought a gazebo to put up just in case we get a rain-shower.” Josh swivelled in his seat to dangle his leg casually over the arm of his chair.

The look in Cassidy’s eyes was distinctly murderous. He wondered if she’d been this uptight before Ethan had dumped her. It was two lousy parties, that was all! It wasn’t as if he expected her to fetch drinks or help clear up or anything. He’d even invited her along, thinking that being in fresh company might cheer her up and save her from brooding.

Josh is Mr Sociability, relaxed and chilled out. Cassidy tries to keep up a front where Josh doesn't look for anything complicated. Their internal conflicts are shown in their attitudes towards the party plans.


c) Do you decide on your theme before you write the book or does it develop out of the story that unfolds? The conficts stem from the characters personalities but I do decide on the main problem right from the planning stage. Josh and Cassidy are forced to share a holiday cottage. At work Josh is efficient and distant, but his heart is with his surfer friends. Cassidy feels she has to keep up her image for her former fiance. So both of them haven't been revealing their true personaities. Forced into closer proximity the layers begin to come off, emotionally speaking,so by the end of the story they finally see and accept each other for who they really are.

Almost

finished rereading the proofs for Blue Remembered Heels. I spent today at my new job getting to know my jobshare partner and attempting to put faces to names. I'm so looking forward to starting as we've lots of plans that we want to work on. I've lots to learn but lots of things that I can offer too.
I've more running around to do tomorrow and then I can pack for our holiday. I plan to finally finish the first draft of Animal Instincts while we're away. I've been doing lots of thinking about what I need to add so it's looking good. I've a new Jessica Hart, Olivia Gates new medical and Katie Ffordes Going Dutch sitting in my tbr pile to take with me - Bliss!
I'm hoping to fit in another by request craft post before I go as I have some outstanding questions to answer.

One more

One more performance of Alice in Never Never land to go for the belles. Then I have the joy of washing and sorting al the ostumes and finding somewhere to store them. This weekend I've sorted out a victorian maids outfit for La for school on Tuesday. I've got two smartie tubes to fill with coins for the PTA, and I'm about to boil eggs so they can decorate them for the easter contest.
We go away Thursday night - all being well - down to Devon (Or it could be up to Devon, I have no idea which way round you're supposed to say these things.) I've done my first read through of the proofs for Blue Remembered Heels, now to tackle the second read and mark up the blips I found.
It was really eerie reading it again after being so immersed in Animal Instincts. I'd been worried that Abbey and Clodagh might be too similar and realised they are nothing alike at all - phew! I also read it thinking wow - did I really write this? - I know I'm biased but I really love this book, I'm hoping everyone else will love it too.

2008 Friday fun 8

Here are a few more Aynuk and Ayi jokes - thanks to Yampy for these.

Aynuk and Ayli stop to look at the stars swaying, on their way home after a night out.

"It meks yer yed reel when yow think about infinity" says Aynuk. "Fer instance, what's the highest number in the universe?"

Ayli's brows furrow with the magnitude of the question.

"Er, that'd be a trillion or summat, wouldn't it?" he replies at last.

"Ah-ha!" says Aynuk triumphantly "but worrabaht a trillion and one?"

"Ar, fair play ter yer" concedes Ayli "but I wor far off, was I?"



Aynuk decides its about time he got himself fit and decided to take up jogging. One day while he was out jogging, he noticed two tennis balls lying by the side of the road.

He picked the balls up, put them in his pocket and continued on his way.

When he gets to the end of his jog, he happens to see Ayli sitting outside the pub, doing his training, downing a pint.

Ayli looks at old Aynuk standing there huffing and puffing, red faced and doubled up.

"What am then big bulges yove got in your shorts?" he asked.

"Tennis balls," pants Aynuk

"Yow poor sod " said Ayli,. "Our kid they must be really hurting, no wonder yome in agony,

I once had tennis elbow and I know the pain was unbearable."



Aynuk and Ayli are in the chemists:

"Ar'd steer clear of that bum deodorant if ah wuz yow Ayli, it day 'arf cum sharp".

"Tharray bum deodorant Aynuk, it's normal stick deodorant fer under yer arms".

"Well ah guh ter the foot of our stairs. I onny follered the instructions day I? It sez on the side 'PUSH UP BOTTOM' "

Breather

No rehearsal tonight! Yay! I've given the belles the night off as they're all tired. I sent notes to the two youngest's teachers saying they wouldn't be doing homework this week either. This is no big deal as the homework they get is pretty dreadful, (usually some badly photocopied sheet minus proper instructions). My cold is worse so I sound like Darth Vader - not attractive. I'm hoping a nice early night might help.
Tomorrow is my last day at work. My new job starts in two weeks and I'm going to be working for a charity, which is a market garden project set up and run by and for people with disabilities, it's about helping people to eat well, grow food, and improve their physical and mental wellbeing through the medium of horticulture. Very exciting!
Writing has taken a back seat for the last few days as I feel lousy but the proofs are on their way for Blue Remembered Heels so I'm hoping my head will have cleared by the weekend and the shows are out of the way.

Snatching a minute

between running back and forth to rehearsals for the belles. The house looks as if a bomb has hit with discarded tapshoes, metallic streamers from the twirly batons and reminders about school stuff. Somehow in the midst of the chaos I'm supposed to help boil eggs and decorate them, fill smartie tubes with money for the PTA and finish off all the stuff I need to do before I leave my job.
Oh, and write a book.
I'm sure I'd do it all much better without a bunged up nose and that underwater feeling in my ears.

Busy with a capital B

This week is going to be frenetic. I have a head cold which is driving me nuts as my ears feel all congested. The belles have dance rehearsas every night this week with the shows on Friday night and matinees on Saturday and Sunday. I've spent an hour already today labelling costumes and preparing things. I also have a full week at the day job culminating in a leaving party on Friday.
Yes, I'm leaving the NHS after twenty six years, almost eighteen of which have been in my present role. It's a bit scary to be stepping out into the unknown as my new job is very different. It's a job that will use all my skills gained from all my jobs, my health skills, my management experience, my pr and marketing skills and my IT know how. It also combines my love of gardens and passion for preventative health. It's a job share, so I'll be working three days a week giving me more time for my writing and my family. In short - the best of all worlds I hope.
So by next Sunday I'll be looking rather dazed.

2008 Friday fun 7

The Ghost of Gibbet Lane, Stourbridge

Gibbet Lane is a short cut between Stourbridge and Kinver and has been used for many centuries. Strange, creepy sounds are said to haunt the underbrush that lies on both sides of the lane. Trees creak and groan in the wind and the scurrying of night creatures also break the stillness. People have reported uneasy feelings. They feel like they are being followed by something sinister and strange that haunts the night.



In times gone by, the bones of cutpurses and murderers hung in chains along the road. Their mortal remains left hanging for months; a fatal warning to others contemplating a criminal career.



The gibbet post was driven into the ground at the exact spot where William Howe shot and robbed a wealthy local farmer, Benjamin Robins, on a winter’s night in 1812. It was market day in nearby Stourbridge. Mr Robbins was wearing a well-filled money-belt, having sold some sheep. He had celebrated the sale in the near by Nag’s Head hostelry, before setting off on foot to his farm in Dunsley.



The victim was a tough individual. After being robbed and left for dead, he managed to stagger home leaving a trail of blood in the snow. He lived for ten days before dying on 28th December. On his deathbed he gave a description of his attacker.



His brother was quick to react. He rode to Stourbridge and ordered one hundred “Wanted” posters. The crime caused such a sensation that the famous Bow Street Runners, Harry Adkins and Sam Taunton (ace detectives of their time), were brought in by the local magistrate in a determined effort to bring the robber to justice.



They interviewed many locals which paid the dividends. Thomas Bates reported that he had noticed a suspicious character lurking in bushes. He described a man wearing a tricorn hat, a dark riding coat and carrying a pair of pistols stuck into his belt. Others reported similar sightings.



The investigators followed the trail and discovered their quarry was a servant of the Marchioness of Downshire, by the name of William Howe. He had some instinct that the Bow Street Runners were on his trail as he packed his bags and left without giving notice.



But Mr Howe was finally apprehended at the Castle and Falcon pub in London. He was sent in irons to Stafford Gaol to await trail. When on trial, after a mere seven minutes the verdict of “guilty” was reached and the sentence of hanging by the neck until dead (and then being cut down and dissected and anatomised) was carried out within 48 hours.



However, when the verdict was announced, the attending Stourbridge magistrate immediately applied for the body to be released to them and hung in chains near the sport where the crime took place. Recent murders in Kidderminster, Bridgenorth and on Whittington Common resulted in the request being granted as a warning to others.



Vast crowds gathered to witness the arrival of the body and follow the procession. The body was suspended in chains “for the moral benefit of the local population.”



The corpse swayed in the breeze for many months and was little more than a skeleton when it was stolen at night by a local surgeon, who felt his profession had been cheated from using the body for medical advancement.



The legend of William Howe became widely circulated and sightings of the phantom started to occur regularly during the last century. Howe’s spirit has been reported to appear as a malicious figure which glides rather than walks. One witness, who claimed to have lashed out at the spectre in fright, says he stumbled back after his stick passed straight through the ghostly apparition.



Equally disturbing encounters with the spectral shade of William Howe continued to emerge regularly in the local press. The old tale was enlivened once more in 1908, when a skeleton with a rusty dagger protruding from its rib cage was discovered near the ‘old gibber tree.’ It is now speculated that William Howe is not the only lonely shadow haunting the old lane.



The most recent investigation into the Gibbet Lane phenomena took place in December 1975, when three paranormal researchers hailing from Dudley kept a four-night vigil in the vicinity of William Howe’s haunting. Bill Oddy, Kevin Stokes and Roy Banks took scientific equipment and spent the December nights searching for paranormal activity. In a summary of their findings, they explained how they heard eerie tapping sounds, shared the feeling of being followed or being invited to follow a presence, and witnessed a black, human form crossing the lane.



But the researchers concluded that, due to their lack of convincing evidence, the surrounding countryside around Gibbet Lane is at peace. Perhaps the spirits are finally at rest...

(Story courtesy of Charlotte Duckworth)

By Request 3

Janet's asked some very interesting questions and I'll do my best to answer them.

Question 1)I'm amazed by the number of good story ideas you come up with. Do they arrive fully formed or do you spend a lot of time developing them before you start writing?
Sometimes I get a plot on it's own but this is very, very rare. Usually my plot ideas arrive with the character of the heroine. In Blue Remembered Heels I'd read a few articles about people who had been struck by lightening and the strange effects this could have. One man found he could speak a different language that he had no recollection of ever learning. The character of Abbey and her inability to lie came into my mind and I wondered in what aspect of someone's life would that be a really big problem and Abbey the con woman leapt onto the page. Then the subplot developed.

Question 2)Do you get lots and lots of ideas but discard a lot too, and keep only the best? I get a lot of ideas but some are suitable for short stories and others for books. Most of my books have a theme that underpins their structure. In Be My Hero, the theme was infertility and society's expectations and how they impact on individuals. In Things To Do, the theme was perceptions.


Question 3)Any tips for getting the ideas to flow? I can always come up with initial story ideas that I really like, then I struggle to develop them past chapter 4. (I like to have the external plot outline worked out before I begin.)
The external plot is not the key, it's the jam on the cake. If you rely on an external plot your story will run out of steam by chapter three. It's the internal conflict where you need to spend the time.
eg In Things To Do the external plot was Emma's secret marriage. The internal plot, the one underpining all the other subplots, is Emma's need to see people for what they really are, not as she would like them to be. Her internal neediness, wanting to be loved for who she is has led her into a disastrous marriage. She clings onto the marriage trying to believe that her husband loves her, explaining his bad behaviour while the reader can see she's fooing herself. As the story unfolds you see her realising the truth about herself and then, in turn, about Marco. She is then free to see the man who has really loved her all along, Rob.
It's the internal conflicts that help the reader to empathise with the heroine, her motivations and those of the hero are what give the reader the emotional investment in the story.
In Blue Remembered Heels, Abbey could be seen as an unlikely heroine. She's a conwoman, dishonest and not on the surface, a very nice person, but then you meet the other people in her life and see her particular moral code and the rational behind it and you see how vulnerable she is.
The characters are the key, they will give you the plot. In Dangerous to Know, Gemma has been dumped by the man she thought she was going to marry and finds that she has lost her identity and her confidence. Jerome has avoided relationships as his work takes him into dangerous places and he felt it would be unfair on a partner. Gemma sees him as someone who it would be safe to flirt with, to prove to the world, herself and her ex that she isn't boring. She steps outside her comfort zone physically and emotionally with Jerome. He, in turn, realises that emotions and love don't come to order. The external plot, the corrupt land deal and the suspense element, only serve to highlight the internal conflict in the emotions of the two characters.
Several of my reviews have picked up on the psychological interplay of my characters and commented very favourably on those aspects. They are what make the characters come alive.

I hope that's all made sense and feel free to agree, disagree, ask questions.

Mothers Day

Happy Mothers day to all my UK readers. I've had a very nice day, I received flowers, a homemade fridge magnet and tiny keepsake box, a necklace, some chocolates and, rather bizarrely, a Crunchie bar.
I'm looking forward to a delicious roast pork dinner cooked by Mr Nell aided by the belles, to round off my day.

I don't believe it

I had a Victor Meldrew moment on Thursday when I discovered some unlovely soul had managed to scrape the back corner of Rosie, my little auto car, while it was parked outside the clinic. Naturally they didn't bother to tell me about it so you can imagine how thrilled I was.
Mr Nell has managed to put the panel back on and take most of the scrape out with T Cut. Sigh.

BTW I haven't forgotten the by request segments on craft and I know Janet has asked some more questions. I promise I'll get to thse this week and if anyone else wants to ask something then ask away.

HAPPY ST DAVIDS DAY