Saturday, 11 December 2010

Marieke's Midwinter Blogfest is so appropriate right now!


This blogfest is kindly hosted by Marieke

I had planned a love in the snow scene, but how about we escape the chill of a Northern Hemisphere Midwinter and go South?!

I've snatched this snippet from a novel written earlier this year, and of course relates to a romantic engagement at African Safari lodge. How timely, in consideration of Prince William and Kate Middleton’s engagement whilst on a Safari Holiday.  It goes over word count I'm afraid: eeeek!

Brief: Allessandre has just presented Nina with an engagement ring and asked her to marry him, but a commotion outside the lodge defers Nina's answer: her brother on the war path.

African Safari & Mid-Winter Engagement.




Paul’s 4x4 pickup skidded to a halt outside Allessandre’s lodge. It caused a bit of a stir among guests just returned from a two-day safari, their guides unpacking a safari truck eyes agog.

Paul leapt out rifle in hand and came striding toward Allessandre who’d heard the commotion and stepped outside to see what in hell was going down.

Reluctant to follow Nina remained inside the lodge awaiting imminent verbal explosion. She really did not want another confrontation with Paul, but nonetheless watched his approach from the shadows behind the mosquito screen door.

‘Did Nina arrive here, earlier?’ he asked, his tone that of man in panic mode.

‘She did,’ replied Allessandre, flippant in response, ‘and supposed to be back before dark, right?’

‘This is no joking matter,’ said Paul, as Aniel his trusted tracker appeared from beside the lodge. ‘She came up here with a young lioness at heel, and Lost returned home twenty-minutes ago at the run.’

‘That was my fault,’ volunteered Allessandre, still feeling guilty for having challenged the poor animal in a stand-off: man with golf club against young lioness. ‘I kind of scared it off.’

‘And Nina, how long ago did she set off back from here?’ asked Paul. ‘We searched the lower path, and Aniel risked his neck to walk up here. There's a pride of lions nearby tonight, and he clearly hasn’t found her, either.’

‘She’s still here,’ declared Allessandre.

In the glow of light cascading from the veranda Paul’s relief evident on face, his tone of voice still tinged with anger. ‘Why didn’t you say so before? I very nearly had a heart attack when Lost returned and no sign of Nina.’

‘Sorry about that,’ said Allessandre, as Nina appeared and came to stand beside him.

‘I do know my way back Paul, and I know what to listen out for,’ she said, defensively.

‘That’s not the point,’ argued her brother. ‘You know the dangers of walking about in the bush at night, and I can’t believe you seriously thought you could stroll back when it suited you to do so.’

‘I’m not that stupid,’ she snapped.

‘Stupid enough in not using the pickup to get here,’ he stated, sounding more furious than before. ‘And Lost, what happened to her? She looked traumatized on her return.’

‘As I said, that was my fault,’ declared Allessandre. ‘I saw Nina coming up the slope behind the lodge, and then suddenly this lioness came charging toward her.’

‘He played the hero,’ said Nina, cutting in, ‘and got between Lost and myself and frightened her.’

‘And only a golf club to defend us,’ said Allessandre, wrapping his arm around her shoulders in protective gesture.

‘She’s only a youngster,’ said Paul, sounding disheartened to think Lost had been traumatized by one man’s ignorance, when she herself knew it had taken him months of tender loving care to get the cub to trust him after man had shot her mother.



Paul had every reason to be angry, and she knew in her heart it was because a terrible nightmare incident from their past had driven him up to the lodge in panicked rage. But what could she say, other than sorry, the past her reason for being there.

‘Thank God Lost came straight home, and didn’t panic and run out into the bush. If that had happened and she’d encountered the nearby pride she’d have been lucky to survive.’

He turned to Aniel, said, ‘Right, let’s be getting off home.’

Aniel leapt into the cab of the pickup, and Paul said in parting shot, ‘Next time you come up here let me know if you’re not coming back.’

Nina felt suitably chastised, and said, ‘I’m sorry, I thought I’d be coming straight back, and you’re right, I should have used the pickup.’

Paul paused by the driver’s door. ‘I take it you ‘re staying?’

‘For tonight,’ she replied, hiding her left hand beneath her right, ‘but I’ll be back in the morning sometime.’

‘See you tomorrow then, and be careful.’

Nina sighed a sigh of relief as he turned the pickup and drove off.

‘I feel so guilty,’ she said, looking to Allessandre. ‘I should have gone with him.’

‘But you didn’t,’ he said, taking her in his arms. ‘Does that mean you’re accepting my proposal?’

‘I have,’ she replied, holding her left hand aloft to display the engagement ring. ‘It’s beautiful and completes the ensemble that you bought on the first day we met.’

Allessandre smiled, his expression that of triumph tinged with surprise.

After all, he’d asked her to marry him, produced the ring, and she’d dallied on reply. Then her brother had suddenly arrived and, perhaps, feeling a little dejected by her silent reaction Allessandre had come outside as much to escape inevitable rejection as that of Paul's hurried arrival.

‘I do love you,’ she said, cupping his face in her hands, ‘and I didn’t falter on reply because I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to marry you . . .’

‘I know, it just came as a bit of a shock, right?’

‘You can say that again, and I’m not sure now that it’s happened. That I’m not dreaming,’ she said.

‘Believe me, it's no dream, and as my wife you’ll want for nothing.’

‘But I don’t want you for what you’ve have I want you for who you are,’ she said, eager to set the record straight. ‘I love the man behind the arrogant mask, the man with the big heart, the man who wanted to be my lover, the man who’ll be my everything.’

He laughed. ‘You think I don’t know all that?’ He kissed her. He hugged her tight. He scooped her off her feet. ‘You never once bothered looking at what I had in any great detail, nor were you the least bit impressed by my stable of cars and horses, and earlier, look what you said about the LearJet.’

She couldn’t help but smile.

‘You can smile,’ he said, carrying her inside the lodge.

‘Well it is a bit OTT arriving at a game reserve in a private jet.’

‘So you won’t be going OTT back to England, then?’ he mooted, a broad grin as he let her feet slide to the floor.

‘Perhaps not,’ she said, teasing him.

‘You’re flying back with me and nothing more to be said.’

‘Is that so?’ she said, attempting to extricate herself from his clutches.

Allessandre gripped her tighter, his lion-like growl pre-cursor to a kiss she had no intention of trying to escape from.


This is an extra cutey pic, because the lioness in the story looked like this when found by Paul (the heroine's brother). But for Nina, Lost proved to be a wonderful companion throughout weeks of much inner soul searching and time to rethink through past heart-breaking events!

To see entries by other participants go here.  

Friday, 10 December 2010

When Fiction meets Reality it can be Scary!!!

This is a really quick post this morning re above title!

Over a month ago I wrote a short story for Tessa's blogontest blogfest: it was meant as a fun read and featured a scary creature stalking a youth while on his way home from the pub. The story seeded and stemmed from a rather large black cat I'd spotted lounging at the bottom of our paddock. It leapt up and jumped across the ditch and headed into the cover of trees, nevertheless I thought it unusually large for a feral cat, but thought no more about it.  It looked not unlike this: big, but not so big you'd think it a black panther.





That sighting was almost five years ago in middle paddock: seen here as hay field!


Narberth is 6 miles from my house, Clynderwen 2 miles.


Now read this: Big cats terrifying livestock in Pembrokeshire





This is the short story penned by moi:  "Hoody"

What do you think?


Wednesday, 8 December 2010

Chapters from Latest Novel up for perusal!


Well, I've done it: I've set up a profile blog and posted 2 chapters from my lastest novel. 

It's a historical as you can see from the image.


To read chaps go here:  

The overall story is one of unrequited love, scandalous seduction, tragic deaths and much heart-searching for both hero and heroine. Although Civil War wrenches them apart, it brings them together again yet the hero all the while unaware of the heroine's presence, but truth will always be outed and love that never died can win true heart again with patience and affection.  

Tuesday, 30 November 2010

How to Get a Lit Agent? - So says Lit Agent!

In this month’s edition of Writers’ News I noticed a very interesting article on “Getting an Agent”, in which Kirsty McLachlan voices the virtues of author web profiling, i.e. blog, facebook, Twitter. All three if you feel so inclined, though she did recommend Twitter for following agents and the like as a means of getting to know more about them and their personal preferences: all things literary. She also recommended blogs for posting samples of your work: WIPs etc., and promote your characters, after all, it is they that are the important factor.

  




Kirsty furthered with, quote:

“Blogs are great ways to keep writing – but remember not to over-use them. Think about why you are writing a blog and whether it links into the book you are actually writing: if your book is funny, is your blog? Don’t tell your readers about your lunch or whine – whining in blogs is the biggest turn-off! Be positive and be entertaining. Think about other sites and link to them – be successful through association”. (she means gain visual presence of interested followers – this adds to your appeal as a potential published author)





But, what struck as extra note worthy was this comment, quote:

“Look for hungry agents – those with small lists and who have just moved agencies or have recently been promoted to become a junior agent”.

And, last but not least another, quote: “Remember to be passionate about your book – this might sound very obvious but too many unpublished writers feel they have to apologise in some way. An unpublished writer is just a writer that hasn’t been published yet. So talk about your book – bore people if needs be, you just never know who will hear your conversation. Get on your soap-box – start talking, shouting – about your book. Someone somewhere might hear your conversation and will help you get your manuscript to the desk of an agent”.


So there you have it: from the horse’ mouth so to speak!



The Do:

1) Promote, promote, and keep right on promoting you and your writing!

2) Have a blog specific to your book/s. See mine here.

3) My suggestion: have a fun-time blog running parallel.



The Don’t:

1) Don’t whinge and don’t cringe in the corner like a cowering dog on a pile of rejection slips!

2) Keep your profile professional in appearance and avoid clutter on writer blog: make every post count in displaying your artistic ability as a writer.

What say you - are you thinking professional image or just waffling for the sake of, and if you are indulging in the latter is it now time to set up a blog for promotional purposes?

Or is this the way to get what you want?

"You're gonna be my lit agent - right?


Tuesday, 23 November 2010

Pile 'em high ...then let 'em die: Aspiring authors take note!



There's been much talk on blogs about subbing, about writing the perfect "Query" letter, about avoidance of specific "utility" words, about re-crafting sentence structure to eliminate pesky words etc., but no one, no editor or lit agent thinks the same, reads and absorbs content the same, nor will any of the former like the same material set before them (as in passionate for same), so what should an aspiring writer do? Read the following for starters!



This was Simon Trewin (UK lit agent) featured way back in The Independent, June 2004:


Quote: "Clearly, the compulsion to write should come from a genuine desire to say something, rather from a baser desire to get rich fast. Writing for the market is the quickest way to produce a hollow novel which won’t get off the starting blocks".

So what's changed in the world of publishing if anything since that article first saw light of day?


With hindsight the arcticle makes for intriguing reading. Note my *ing endings* - and two-fingers to the *ing* hate brigade!


To read the article go here. But, before you do, have you ever felt like flinging a book on the fire? I have twice, and all because the word rueful appeared more than once per chapter in two romance novels, in fact the despised word popped up no less than fifty times in twenty pages. By page twenty-one I was beside myself with book rage!  Grrrrrrrrr.  Needless to say I didn't burn said books (gave them away) but this image is kind of satisfying because I can imagine all are blighted with the dreaded *rueful grin* and every other connotation of rueful utilised by obsessed romantic novelist: whom I would love to send a Thesaurus for Christmas!


Quick add-on: I've had loads of e-mails from published authors and aspiring writers in support of this post, each and every one unwilling to pass comment in a public arena, but all having read category romance novels that annoyed, irritated, cheesed off, infuriated, even p*ssed off two, another stating she actually binned one in disgust, and five having sold unwanted CR novels on Ebay to regain partial compensation for badly written, poorly edited and downright lousy plots! Though I must say I thought the funniest was the case of the shredded book: fed to a garden shredder for compost!