Author: Rosie Travers

The Garden of Dreams

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A family day out is real rarity in our household. We are currently all living on the same continent, which is a bonus, but that hasn’t always been the case.  They always say you should feel proud as a parent that you’ve given your fledglings the confidence to flap their wings and fly away – but I do sometimes wish they hadn’t flown quite so far  (although to be fair to our children we  have done our own fair share of flying in the past). With our elder daughter on sabbatical from her job in Budapest and working in London for three weeks, we took the opportunity to meet up for some quality time together, plans which  included a visit Hampton Court Flower Show on one of the hottest days of the year.

My house in the UK has a fairly compact garden, but after spending a large part of the last nine years or so living in rented apartments overseas, I value my own personal outdoor space. I’d like more, but  that’s because I look back through my rose tinted spectacles to the days when we had a third of an acre plot, complete with our own bluebell wood and children who needed trampolines, pop-up pools and wendy houses. Those days are gone – and so has the industrial-sized lawnmower. It’s not a question of quantity, but quality.

I still watch Gardeners World, I grow my own herbs and salad veg, albeit in high-rise containers to defy the slugs. I have a choice of seating areas, where I can chill out with a book in dappled shade or full-sun;  we even have a pint-sized pond. I’ve crammed my borders full of plants to attract butterflies and ungrateful bees (I was recently stung), and we have visiting hedgehogs. It’s a little oasis.

Hampton Court was packed, and parched, and all around us elderly ladies were collapsing from the heat, but we viewed the show gardens and marvelled not just at the seemingly effortless planting, but at sunken seating areas and outdoor entertaining spaces, wondering if we too could find room in our postage stamp plot for that leather-look hot tub complete with wooden surround (surely we could?) as well as a circular shed to house a fully stocked cocktail bar…

While our young ladies revived themselves with Pimms, Mr T and I wandered around looking for further inspiration. I’ve now found the perfect solution to keeping occupied during long winter evenings when the great outdoors is out of bounds.  We don’t need a bigger garden – we can create horticultural masterpieces from the comfort of our own settee. A knitting project for me, and a lego one for him.

But of course the best part of the day was being together – so that the kids could squabble just like they did when we all lived under one roof. To be fair my girls get on a lot better when they live apart, there is some truth in that old adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

A day out anywhere provides inspiration for a writer, characters, settings, planting schemes, I soaked it all up. Even if I can’t recreate those show gardens in my own backyard, I can certainly transplant the ideas into my next book – The Garden of (My) Dreams….watch this space!

Guest Post by Jane Bwye

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This week fellow author Jane Bwye joins me to discuss her favourite ‘comfort reads’.

 

Thank you for having me, Rosie.

I don’t know if I’d call them “comfort reads”, and I’ve had to think a bit before making my final choices, based roughly on the number of times I can sort-of remember reading them. The truth is, it’s several years since I’ve opened the pages of any of them. But your invitation has reminded me.

I am an utter romantic at heart, and although I’ve never been to Russia, Boris Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago has been my favourite read for as long as I can remember. As a sixteen-year-old, I read it a few times, then in 1965 I saw the film, and because in this rare case the film is every bit as good as the book, I now think of both, when re-visiting either. And that haunting music never fails to stir my soul.

 

You definitely cannot class Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty as a comfort read. I first read it way back before my teens and could never resist the temptation to repeat the exquisite torture again and again, barely able to see the words on the page through my tears. I have always been crazy about horses, which doesn’t help. I picked it up again about six years ago, as I’d come to live in Sussex where the book is set. To my shame, even in later life, the tears spoiled the pages and I was devastated that it could still affect me so much.

 

My mother introduced me to Nevil Shute at an early age, and Australia has been part of my dreams ever since. When I came across The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCulloch, I was in seventh heaven. I remember first reading it from cover to cover twice through without a pause, and a copy still graces my book shelves, ready for whenever I feel like a bit of self-indulgence.

 

 

I discovered Cutting For Stone by Abraham Verghese at a mature age. This classic story of twins, hardship and professionalism set against the exotic background of Ethiopia is surely a must-read for all reflective souls. Beautifully written, full of philosophy and ageless, it has made a deep impression on me, and I keep telling myself to read his other books…

 

 

There’s one more book, which I just cannot leave out. Enduring Love by Ian McEwan. I am not blessed with a good memory for stories, and whenever I pick it out, remembering the totally satisfying and tingly feelings it gives me, it is as if I’m reading it again for the very first time.

 

 

I could go on and on – I’m finding more and more good books and have forgotten hundreds, which leaves the way open for me to read them again and have pleasant surprises. I don’t want to bore you, and I must show you my African novels, which were inspired by the “Tribe” books by Nicholas Monserrat. However, that’s another story…

 

 

…And on 15th August 2018 I’ll be launching something entirely different. A Guide to starting your own business. Even authors need to show some business acumen these days.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B00352B44Q

If you pre-order from Amazon now, you’ll get the special price of £/$.99!

 

 

 

Jane Bwye lived for 55 years in Kenya. She has been an intermittent free-lance journalist most of her life and has written several books. Her large family, scattered over three continents, are a good excuse for her to indulge in travelling. A former teacher, and owner of several small businesses, she works as a business mentor for small business start-ups.

Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Jane-Bwye/e/B00BOK0NN4/

Website: http://janebwye.com/

What A Difference A Year Makes

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What a difference a year makes. It’s just over twelve months since I moved back to the UK from the Netherlands. I’ve had to adjust, to get used to living in the tranquillity of countryside after three years in of living in busy towns with everything on my doorstep.  I’ve had to rely on a car again. No point having a bicycle in my home village – there’s only one way out of it – uphill. I’ve had to re-establish friendships – oh you’re back again are you? (It wasn’t the first time we’d moved away).

This time last year I was in a huge dilemma about my writing.  Whilst still in Holland I had received a positive response from one of the many publishers I’d sent my first novel to. On my return to the UK we met and they offered me a contract. I should have been over the moon, but I wasn’t…because by this time I’d finished writing The Theatre of Dreams and I liked it an awful lot better than Book 1. The contract I was offered gave the publisher first option on my second book. They already wanted changes to Book 1 to suit their style, and any subsequent books would have to follow a pattern. The Theatre of Dreams would take a fair bit of re-writing to fit the mould. So, what did I do?

I reminded myself how long I’d waited to find a publisher. I wanted to be a published author. Surely I could make the changes, a published e-book (there was no promise of a paperback) was better than no book at all. I could compromise…couldn’t I? Fate works in mysterious ways. I then saw a Twitter post from one of the big publishing houses requesting one line pitches, and I thought, why not? I was still dithering about the contract, so I submitted a pitch for The Theatre of Dreams – straight away I was asked for the first three chapters and a synopsis.  Although they quickly replied it wasn’t totally what they were looking for, a standard rejection response, they did say they liked my style. It was the kick I was waiting for.

I took a leap of faith.  I wrote to the first publisher and told them I’d changed my mind and I didn’t want to go ahead with the contract. Of course, I still had to find a publisher for The Theatre of Dreams, and I had to face a few puzzled queries from various quarters (including my other half) of what, you’ve turned a publishing contract down? But within a few months the deed was done. I found Crooked Cat, and now, twelve months on, I don’t just have an e-book ready for publication, I have a paperback. I have a novel that I’m proud of, that was great fun to write, and hopefully great fun to read.

Sometimes you do just have to trust your instincts. Book 1 has been well and truly consigned to a locked drawer and here’s me grinning away with the treasured first copy of The Theatre of Dreams

And as for adjusting to life back in the UK, yes there are still things I miss about the Netherlands, especially this – appelgebak met slagroom, but as I no longer consume vast quantities of calorie-laden Dutch delicacies, I don’t feel quite so bad about giving up the bike!

 

Comfort Reading – Miriam Drori

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I recently wrote about my favourite ‘comfort reads’.   In today’s guest slot, fellow Crooked Cat author Miriam Drori gives her take on the same subject.

Since becoming a Crooked Cat author, I have expanded the scope of books I read, enjoying many different types of novels. These days, it would be easier to say which genres I don’t read – mostly science fiction, porn, poetry.

But most of the books I read aren’t comfort reads. They’re not what I need to take me out of something that’s making me unhappy.

In my youth, when I often struggled with life, I didn’t know about comfort reading. I wish I had; it would have helped. But it was only in June, 2010 that I discovered reading as an escape.

Something happened at that time. I can’t even remember exactly what it was. Where I live, bad things happen quite often. What I read about this episode on social media, from people who lived far away and couldn’t really know what was going on, upset me a lot. I’ve probably read similar comments since then, but have become more immune to them.

In order to escape from comments I took too personally, I decided to turn my computer off for fifty-five hours, or at least that’s how long my separation from the world outside my country turned out to be. It would be much harder to cut myself off from the Internet these days, now that I have a smart phone and am expected to be available online at all times. But back to then. What did I do instead? Apart from completing various chores, I sat in the garden and read.

The book I read was one that I’d just won in a competition: Kwaito Love by Lauri Kubuitsile. It’s a romance, the first of this genre that I ever read. I can do no better than to quote from my review of the time, https://miriamdrori.com/2010/06/07/a-well-timed-book/.

“It’s set in South Africa, and describes a world where traditional food includes vetkoek or makwinya – depending on the language being spoken, where women of twenty-four are too young to marry, where family ties are very strong and where the worst problems are caused by misunderstandings.

“No doubt the last item in my list is not always true of this place, but in the world described in this story, that’s all there is. And that’s what drew me to this beautiful, well-written story: its ability to distract my mind from all my worries and transport me to a world where the love between two people is the only thing that really matters.”

Since then I’ve read many romances. I’ve even written one, Neither Here Nor There, although the background of its heroine predetermines more plot depth than in most romances. And next time I need an escape from the trials of real life, I’ll hope I have a romance at hand to fill the gap.

***

Miriam Drori is the author of the romance Neither Here Nor There, the historical novella The Women Friends: Selina co-written with Emma Rose Millar and the non-fiction Social Anxiety Revealed.

Miriam can be found on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Pinterest, Wattpad and on her website/blog and social anxiety blog.

 

Fame At Last!

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I’ve always considered myself to be a modest, shy, person, characteristics which aren’t particularly conducive to self-promotion, which is why I struggle with this whole social media/creating a writer platform malarky.

My other half points out I can’t be shy because after moving abroad, I pro-actively joined social groups and made many new friends.   I had to. I’d moved 5000 miles away from the town that had been my home for over 40 years and I didn’t know a soul, but that didn’t stop the dread of having to introduce myself to strangers over and over again – Hi I’m Rosie, I’m an expat, can you recommend a good hairdresser/dentist/doctor/therapist….

Admittedly that first international move nine years ago forced me out of my comfort zone, however, I now find myself in a similar position.

Hi I’m Rosie, and I’ve written this book….

I hate putting myself out there, but I’ve got a book launch coming up and if I don’t publicise it, nobody else will.  So besides being ‘active’ on social media, bombarding my friends, what else can I do? Contact the local press…

I’ve had dealings with the local press before. When we moved to the Netherlands I undertook an on-line writing course, and being a model student, during the lesson on writing articles and features for magazines, I contacted my local newspaper back in the UK, pitching a story about a transplanted Southampton woman now living in the Netherlands. I think this might interest your readers, I wrote.  I heard nothing….for six months. Then I received an email. Dear Rosie, please could you write us a 500 word article about your life in the Netherlands by Friday…oh and by the way, can we have a photograph of you with a windmill.

500 words and one 4 km cycle ride to the nearest windmill for a photo-shoot later, the article was complete.

Despite the apparent rush, my feature didn’t appear in the paper for at least another three weeks, presumably something better came up. Having said that, three weeks is  nothing compared to the two year wait I had for a short-story to appear in another local magazine after it had been accepted!

So, knowing how long it can take to receive a response, let alone publication, I sent off a couple of notices this week about my book and its forthcoming launch on 1 August. The very next day I received a phone call from one local newspaper, the Portsmouth based The News and had a very pleasant chat with a reporter who asked lots of questions about my writing and the inspiration behind it. Oh so you will come to my launch? I said. Yes, she replied and we’ll run a feature on it tomorrow. You’ll be on page 13….’

Tomorrow! Likely story I thought, but just on the off chance, I rushed into my local One-Stop and grabbed its lone copy of The News, and there it was, perfectly filling a slot on page 13 as promised!

‘Mum picks up pen to commemorate town’s demolished art deco building…’

I do actually write with a keyboard and a computer, and my children have both long flown the nest, but what the heck! I’m very grateful to The News for running the story. I’m not sure I’m going to get stopped in the street because of it, but hopefully it’s aroused a little bit more interest for the book.

 

Kindred Spirits: Westminster Abbey

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Today on my blog it’s a first – a guest post! I am delighted to welcome fellow author Jennifer C Wilson to talk about her new book in the historical Kindred Spirits series.

In the Kindred Spirits series, we meet the ghosts of historical characters, in a range of contemporary settings. Have you ever wondered what Richard III and Anne Boleyn might have in common, what Mary, Queen of Scots is getting up to now, or what happens when the visitors leave some of the most popular attractions in the country? Well, here’s your chance!

In the third of the Kindred Spirits series, we visit Westminster Abbey, and I hope you enjoy meeting a new community of ghosts. Mind, with modern travel so easy these days, a few faces we’ve already encountered might just show up too…

About Kindred Spirits: Westminster Abbey

On hallowed ground…

With over three thousand burials and memorials, including seventeen monarchs, life for the ghostly community of Westminster Abbey was never going to be a quiet one. Add in some fiery Tudor tempers, and several centuries-old feuds, and things can only go one way: chaotic.

Against the backdrop of England’s most important church, though, it isn’t all tempers and tantrums. Poets’ Corner hosts poetry battles and writing workshops, and close friendships form across the ages.

With the arrival of Mary Queen of Scots, however, battle ensues. Will Queens Mary I and Elizabeth I ever find their common ground, and lasting peace?

The bestselling Kindred Spirits series continues within the ancient walls of Westminster Abbey.

Praise for the Kindred Spirits series

“A light hearted, humorous, and at times tender read which you’ll enjoy whether you like history or not.”

“This light-hearted, imaginative read is a new take on historical fiction but make no mistake, this is not only a fun read but an educational tool.”

“A brilliantly unique idea from a distinctive new voice in fiction.”

About Jennifer

Jennifer is a marine biologist by training, who developed an equal passion for history whilst stalking Mary, Queen of Scots of childhood holidays (she since moved on to Richard III). She completed her BSc and MSc at the University of Hull, and has worked as a marine environmental consultant since graduating.

Enrolling on an adult education workshop on her return to the north-east reignited Jennifer’s pastime of creative writing, and she has been filling notebooks ever since. In 2014, Jennifer won the Story Tyne short story competition, and also continues to work on developing her poetic voice, reading at a number of events, and with several pieces available online. Her Kindred Spirits novels are published by Crooked Cat Books and available via Amazon, along with her self-published timeslip novella, The Last Plantagenet? She can be found online at her blog, and on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

Setting The Scene

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Sometimes inspiration strikes in the most unlikeliest of places.  If you’ve read the blurb for The Theatre of Dreams you’ll know the story focuses on an unlikely alliance formed between Tara, an out of work actress, and a rather devious old lady, Kitty, who recruits Tara to run her former dance academy in the fictional south coast resort of Hookes Bay.

Characters pop into my head very easily, what I sometimes lack is a cohesive plot. Once I had come up with a vision of Kitty, I knew I had to give her a purpose. And for this, I have to give credit to the small coastal town of Lee-on-Solent in my native Hampshire. Lee isn’t actually a town – according to Wikipedia it’s a sub-district in the Borough of Gosport, 8 km west of Portsmouth.  This part of the south coast is synonymous with dockyards, submarine stations, armouries, and air bases. It’s not a holiday destination.  I’d been living away from the UK for some time, and on a visit home, for nostalgia’s sake,  we’d gone for a walk along the seafront at Lee.

Lee is one of those places that unless you live nearby, you wouldn’t think to go there – a few cafes, a fairly nondescript high street and a pebbly beach.

At least that’s what I thought, until a notice-board depicting Lee’s historic past caught my eye….

Who knew that back in the 1930’s Lee used to be a bustling resort with a 37 m observational tower and a multi-purpose entertainment complex? I could recall visiting Lee as a child, to swim in the freezing cold water of the local lido, but by then all remnants of the Lee Tower with its ballroom, restaurant and cinema had long gone. How could they have let this happen? I thought. Where once there was something quite unique there is now just a promenade and a car-park. Why wasn’t it preserved?

My imagination had been well and truly captured. I came home and conducted some quick research, uncovering a countrywide trail of art deco seaside pavilions, lost from the landscape. I read about the De La Warr pavilion further along the coast at Bexhill-on-Sea in Sussex – restored into a contemporary arts centre after a public campaign. Why hadn’t that happened at Lee-on-Solent, I wondered.  Where was the vision, imagination, determination, ingenuity, oh, and the money of course, to conserve their slice of history?

They always tell you to write about what you know. My daughter trained as a dancer. My late grandmother was a would-be musical hall star. Two characters from different generations with a shared love of performing.  And so the idea for The Theatre of Dreams was born. My leading ladies didn’t need an observational tower and a huge entertainment complex to bring them together, just something small and meaningful – a run-down seaside pavilion that was once a flourishing family theatre.

The resort of Hookes Bay is a figment of my imagination. It overlooks the Isle of Wight, has a scruffy shingle beach and was once home to a former military base – it could be anywhere along the south coast.

I hope the residents of Lee-on-Solent don’t think I have done their little town an injustice by taking inspiration from the long-forgotten glory days of their seafront. It’s a great place to go for a stroll, with a wonderful car-park.

 

And postcard of the orignal Lee Tower Complex….

 

The Theatre of Dreams will be published on 1 August 2018 and is available to pre-order on Amazon now.

The Theatre of Dreams

 

 

Time Out

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I am very lucky, I don’t have to cram my writing into evenings and weekends, or get up five o’clock in the morning to write for a couple of hours before work, or taking kids to school. There is a saying, if you want something done, ask a busy person.    A few years back, that would have been me – a busy person.  I was a working mum. When your body is already wired in to operate at frenetic speed, what’s one more task to fit in? I’m a Virgo, and we’re notoriously hardworking, meticulous people.

But I’ve been out of the professional work-space for some time now.  I’ve got out of the habit of having deadlines. I’ve got used to being a lady of leisure. I’ve got used to thinking, I don’t need to do that today, I can do it tomorrow.

I want to be taken seriously as a writer. If people like my first book, they’ll want another. Writing The Theatre of Dreams was fun, because I had no other demands on my time, but now I have. My other half, who works for a multi-national oil company, doubles up with laughter when I tell him I feel under pressure, but as all authors know, the sequel to The Joy of Writing  is The Joy of Promoting Yourself on Social Media. And it’s not just the technical competence I lack, when it comes to efficiency, I’m out of condition. My work-space is chaotic and my time-management skills are zilch. I worry constantly that if I don’t keep up with what’s going on people will forget about me. Come that magical publication date of 1 August, nobody will know who I am.  I need to arrange a book launch, write blog posts, compile guest articles, add witty comments on Facebook and Twitter, post pictures on Instagram, surreptitiously promoting my book.  Creating an ‘author platform’ takes cunning, guile and time.

Time. That elusive commodity slipped through my fingers last week when I caught up with some girl friends from my ex-pat days.  We escaped to Guernsey, and it had nothing to do with the current hype about the Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society – it just so happens one of my friends is lucky enough to live in the Channel Islands, and we’d planned our visit long before the film’s release.  Guernsey is a beautiful place, a throw-back to a slower pace of life, a land where a traffic jam only lasts for five minutes and the busiest road is a single carriageway.

I shouldn’t be here at all, I thought in a moment of panic, that’s three days of not writing or posting meaningful literary-related comments.  I’m chatting when I should be tweeting, I’m admiring fields of cows when I should be creating publicity,  I’m walking along footpaths overgrown with pink campions and cornflowers, buttercups and stinging nettles when I should be….doing exactly just that.

What’s so wrong with not being busy? Sometimes you just need to take time out to relax and breathe.

And write a blog post very quickly when you get back home!

 

 

My Fab Five Comfort Reads

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The mythical ‘they’ always say to be a great writer you have to be a great reader. I devoured books from a very early age. Books provide an escape route – I used to immerse myself in Kirrin Island and Narnia, just like children today escape to Hogwarts. Returning to a familiar place is a source of great comfort, and like food, I have my favourite ‘comfort reads’, novels I can escape to in times of need.

It was very hard narrowing my choices down to five, but to me the following books represent the literary equivalent of peanut butter on toast or a mug hot chocolate with whipped cream – comfort reading. This doesn’t mean that they feature happy ever afters with cosy characters (far from it), it just means that when I pick up these books I know I’m in for a treat.

 
Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon –  the perfect combination of history, romance, mystery and magic, set in a great city, Barcelona. I discover something new amongst the pages everytime I read it. Probably my all time favourite novel.
 
Tender is the Night by F Scott Fitzgerald. As much as I love The Great Gatsby, I prefer Tender is the Night, perhaps because it’s just that little bit ‘meatier’, (or maybe because I share the same name as one of the central characters??). The themes of vulnerability and co-dependency are explored in an opulent and seemingly perfect setting. A book that epitomises a flawed romance in a decadent bygone era.
 
A Town Like Alice – Neville Shute’s classic might be considered a little old-fashioned in today’s market but it’s an inspiring mix of historical fact and fiction with a strong, gutsy heroine at its core. 
 
The Go-Between by LP Hartley.  A great lesson in how to build up tension alongside evocative imagery. The perfect portrait of a lost innocence and the 1971 film version is pretty good too.
 
Chocolat by Joanne Harris. Basically, I love anything by Joanne Harris, but Chocolat was the first novel of hers I read so for sentimental reasons it would have to be my favourite. I listened to a speech by Joanne Harris at the Winchester Writer’s Festival a few years back and she was inspirational. She was told Chocolat would never sell, but she had faith in her story and stuck to her guns. 
 
I’ve made multiple house-moves in recent years and books have had to be sacrificed and taken to the charity shop, but these five treasured friends have stood the test of time. I wouldn’t be without them.
 

Flying By The Seat of My Pants

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I’ve just typed The End on a first draft of a new novel.

When it comes to writing, I’m  a ‘panster’. I fly by the seat of my pants. I don’t start with a plan – or at least not a rigid, set in stone plan, or even set in a notebook or on a whiteboard plan. I don’t even have post-it notes, although they do come into play later on.

A panster starts off with an idea with in their head, and inevitably finishes up with something completely different on paper.

It could be characters, or just one scene, that ignites the spark.  Once I’ve got my characters, or at least the main protagonist and antagonist, I always know how the story is going to end – it’s just how the characters get there that needs working out.  It’s not until I’m several chapters in that I stop to take stock (or run out of steam).  Then I have to think – is this going anywhere? I might go back at this point, have a bit of a tidy up before deciding whether it’s worth continuing.  The best part of being a panster is when I hit the point where the characters I’ve created start talking to me, telling their own stories. That’s when I know it’s going somewhere – although not necessarily where I would like it go.

The trouble with being a panster is that it involves a lot of  jumping backwards and forwards. As a character takes shape, or a new sub-plot forms, I have to flit back to an earlier part of the manuscript and drop in a few clues. If I were a plotter I’d have dropped the clues in as I was going along in a orderly, organised fashion.  That’s when the post-its come in, by the side of my keyboard. I jot down new ideas as the story evolves, or scribble reminders to go back and insert a reference to a now vital scene.  Add to the chapter-hopping chaos, several mugs of tea, and the occasional glass of wine (I work in the evenings when home alone) and I end a with very cluttered work-space.  That wonderful quote ‘Creative minds are rarely tidy’ could be the family motto.

If I wrote novels that required detailed research, basically I’d come unstuck. I research as a go along. Setting stories in a contemporary time frame in locations I’m familiar with may seem like a cop-out, but the mythical ‘they’ always advise you to write what you know and it does make sense.

I’d like to be able to write every day but inspiration is not always forthcoming and sometimes life just gets in the way.

Having typed those magical words ‘The End’ writers are advised to sit on a first draft for at least a couple of weeks before picking it up again.  A second draft always requires detailed refining, and then there’s the third and the fourth…

First thing this morning I woke up with a brand new scene in my head, yesterday I decided another would work so much better if character A did this, instead of character B. Of course, if I were a plotter I would have known all this right from the start.

Hey ho, back to the keyboard.