Historical Saga Novels

So Very Chic

2012-01-19T21:14:00.001Z

It's a pleasure to research the fashions of the decades after the Great War. In the 1920’s it became acceptable for women to smoke anddrink in public. “Flappers” as they were named, wore straight, loose frocks,decorated by beads and when dancing the Charleston, the clever cut of the dressrevealed a tantalizing hint of knee. Hemlines on coats, dresses and skirts rose swiftlyto lower by the end of the 20’s, as women came to terms with the fact theycould show off as much knee and calf as they wished – and wanted to keep alittle in reserve for the imagination.Ladies flocked to the high street shops that we nowknow as stores, to queue for silk stockings in every colour and often with outrageouspatterns. The Hollywood stars led the way, with hairstyles of women like LouiseBrooks, famous for her cheeky bob, sending hairdressers worldwide into a frenzyof scissoring.Even a working girl could afford to look like hermatinee idol, not so very different from today. Style was all important by the1930’s and women’s clothing became the focus of every magazine just as it isnow. Men’s clothing also hotted up. Higher waists forsuits were popular (very Simon Cowell) also turn-ups, modest lapels and crazyshoes. Two-toned, white and tan, black and white, patent leather and fringedtongues. Men’s footwear had never been so brazen. Fair Isle jumpers and casual shirts were teamed upwith flannels and the opportunity to wear full suits and cravats was nevermissed.So, having just departed the 30's by finishing one story and going on to the next, I open with a new page in 1940...to the sound of air raid sirens and the sight of barrage balloons - the material of which was sometimes used for - yes! - fashion wear! But that's another blog of course...

Penny's Obituary in the Guardian

2012-01-16T18:15:00.000Z

I thought that I would reprint Penny's obituary here, since we all knew and loved her and her delightful sagas are still here for us all to enjoy. A trip to Amazon will inspire us with the great body of Penny's work, and this stunning photo captures her breathtaking beauty.

From the Guardian; Penny Halsall was better known by her pen names Penny Jordan and Annie Groves. 'A thoughtful cup of tea brought to your bedside each morning means more to me than the huge bouquet of flowers bought once a year,' she once said. Photograph: HarperCollins

Penny Halsall, who has died of cancer aged 65, was a prolific writer of women's fiction, and one of Mills & Boon's most popular authors, under the pen name Penny Jordan. She wrote more than 200 books in a 30-year career and was phenomenally successful, with sales of 100m worldwide. Her work was translated into 25 languages.
The appeal of Mills & Boon for readers is the promise of a happy ending. Penny always put an alpha male as the love interest and, though the books followed a theme, she brought something fresh to each one – creating believable yet escapist fiction. But it was Penny's speed and prolific output that made her so successful.
She wrote instinctively, getting a rough draft down quickly. At the beginning of her career, she wrote nearly a book a month and readers began to seek her out. She wrote on a variety of topics, from the stalwarts of romantic fiction, such as marriages of convenience, to stories involving older heroines and characters affected by the credit crunch. Halsall did not consider herself a romantic, and said: "A thoughtful cup of tea brought to your bedside each morning means more to me than the huge bouquet of flowers bought once a year."
Born Penelope Jones in Preston, Lancashire, she spent her early childhood there before moving with her family to Cheshire. Penny would recall that she began making up stories as soon as she could think; her introduction to Mills & Boon came when she was 10, via the serials in the Woman's Weekly magazines passed on to her mother, Margaret, by a neighbour.
She went to Todmorden grammar school (now Todmorden high) and then worked as a typist in Manchester. She was working in a bank when her husband, Steve Halsall, whom she had met as a teenager, bought her a typewriter to encourage her ambition to write romantic fiction.
Penny entered a competition run by the Romantic Novelists' Assocation (RNA), which brought her to the attention of an agent, and in 1979 published Duchess in Disguise, the first of 25 Regency romances under the name Caroline Courtney. She also wrote a number of books as Melinda Wright and Lydia Hitchcock.
Around the time that Duchess in Disguise was published, Penny read in a magazine that Mills & Boon were looking for new authors. "I was still an avid reader of Mills & Boon romances – on publication day I used to rush out of work to get to the local book store to grab my favourites before they all disappeared. I chose to write the kind of romance I love best – one with a sheikh hero."
Mills & Boon select most of their new authors through unsolicited manuscripts and writing competitions. The editor who discovered Penny's work in the slush pile in 1980 described her as "a raw talent – a born storyteller with a unique, intense and passionate voice". Her first book for them was Falcon's Prey (1981).
After Steve died in 2002, she found new focus in a series of novels for HarperCollins under the pseudonym Annie Groves, inspired by her mother's experiences during the second world war. Set in Liverpool and London, these focused on the home front and the changing role of women. Brimming with warmth and nostalgia, the books brought her new fans.
Penny was an active member of the RNA, supporting up-and-coming authors, and in 2011, was presented with the association's lifetime achievement award. Her last Annie Groves novel, My Sweet Valentine, along with two further volumes for Mills & Boon, The Price of Royal Duty and A Secret Disgrace (her 187th for the publisher), will be issued later this year.
She is survived by her mother, her sister Pru and her brother Anthony.
• Penny Jordan (Penny Halsall), writer, born 24 November 1946; died 31 December 2011

RIP: Annie Groves

2012-01-07T20:18:00.000Z

WWII saga author, Annie Groves, who was a member of this blog passed away recently. Annie was also known as Mills and Boons contemporary author Penny Jordan. It is a sad loss to the writing industry and to her thousands of fans. She was an excellent writer of different genres of romance with enthralling stories that gave her devoted fans many hours of pleasure.
She will be greatly missed.

Kindle Surprise

2011-12-20T21:13:00.000Z

Just had to write a few lines for my previous historical novel EAST END ANGEL as Amazon Kindle are promoting the book for a couple of weeks. Since I'm an avid reader now on a Kindle and the price is much more affordable for readers, it's a lovely Crimbo surprise!
June 1941, Isle of Dogs, London.
In the dark days following the Blitz, happiness visits young Pearl Jenkins as she celebrates her marriage to Jim Nesbitt.
But what should be a joyful occasion is marred when a fight breaks out between Jim and Ricky Winters, an unwelcome visitor from Pearl’s past. And to Pearl’s horror, the new beau of her wayward younger sister Ruby.
Increasingly uneasy at staying at home when other men are off fighting for their country, Jim enlists, leaving Pearl at home – alone, pregnant, and at Ricky’s mercy… .
Together, Pearl and Ruby must bring up baby Cynthia while struggling to make ends meet and dodge the doodlebugs. And all the time, Pearl must hide the dark secret she harbours, one which would tear the two sisters apart as well as her marriage.
Then tragedy strikes both on the home front and in the trenches and Pearl is forced to fight like never before to keep her family safe.

Also taking this opportunity to wish everyone on the blog a really happy Christmas and a healthy, happy and prosperous New Year. Love CarolRx

Lancashire markets

2011-12-12T11:29:00.001Z

Lancashire to me means the warmth and good humour of the people, their laughter and song, and how they always bounce back with a joke when times are hard. It’s the blast of the mill hooter, my Gran singing Thou Shalt Not Want in chapel three times of a Sunday, then wondering what she could find for tea. It’s the smell of hot pie and peas, leather in my father’s shoe shop, soot and smoke from the old mill chimneys. It’s the crumbly delight of Lancashire cheese, the banter on Accrington market. It’s the wild beauty of open, wind-swept moorland where I could play all day damming brooks and climbing trees, picnicking on a jam butty and a bottle of pop and nobody worried. It’s skipping games and scraped knees, ice lollies, cobbled streets and chip butties. It’s my childhood. It’s what made me who I am.

And so I was inspired to write my Manchester sagas, this wonderful city representing the capital of the world to me when I was small. And Champion Street Market, a series of six books set in the 1950s around a market in Castlefield, Manchester. I based my fictional market on Campfield Market, situated between Tonman Street and Dumville Street, a large market hall which also had an outside market all around it.

There were food shops, pork butchers with red polonies hanging up, biscuit stalls where you could buy a bag of broken biscuits for sixpence; a milliner who sold bits and pieces with which to trim your hat.

On the outside market there would be stalls selling rolls of lino which the man would slap to make a noise and attract people. One auctioned pots and would juggle and drop one if no one was paying attention. Once he had a crowd around him he’d say: ‘Look at this beautiful plate. It’s exquisite. Just like the pattern on our Lizzie’s garters.’ He was a showman, keen to make his audience laugh. He’d offer his pots at a ridiculous price, then beat down the price to sell.

And then there were the sweet stalls, the ice cream parlour where you could choose to have raspberry syrup or chocolate sauce and other delights on your ice cream. Originally these were sold in a licking glass before the advent of wafers and cornets.

One man sold old uniforms and badges. He was a bit deaf and didn’t like kids hanging around his stall, suspecting they were after nicking some of his treasures. Another old soldier would sell matches and boot laces from a tray. Kids used to help the stall holders pack away and stack up their stalls, hoping to earn a penny which would buy them a piping hot cup of Vimto.

The Maypole Dairy sold marg, butter, bacon and milk etc. The Flat Iron market sold second-hand clothes. And there was a little fairground as well. Lascars, or Indian seamen, sometimes called ‘coolie johnnies’ worked there. And there was a wonderful cheese stall which would give you a taster before you decided which to buy.

Markets have remained a strong tradition in Lancashire, and I still love browsing on them.

Using these memories I devised a cast of characters from Belle Garside, a fancy piece who runs the market café, to Aunty Dot who took in foster children, Winnie Watkins who pokes her nose into everybody’s business, and Barry Holmes who gets more than he bargains for when he starts a boys’ boxing club. The series begins with Putting On The Style.

Dena loves her Saturday job at Belle Garside’s market café, and her ready smile makes her a universal favourite. She is soon in thrall to Belle’s two sons; good looking, exciting and dangerous but fate has other plans in store. When her younger brother is killed by a gang of young thugs Dena is taken into care. Later, when she returns to her beloved market, she valiantly tries to rebuild her life. Only when it is far too late does Dena begin to ask herself the terrifying question: has she fallen in love with her brother’s killer?

Available on special offer on Kindle here:

When Patsy talks her way into a job on their Champion Street market millinery stall, the Higginson sisters get more than they bargained for. Coping with a rebellious teenager is far from easy. Riddled with insecurities, Patsy’s impudence and chirpy personality win her enemies as well as new friends. And her determination to solve the riddle of her own past soon starts to unravel secrets Annie and Clara would much rather keep hidden.

Available on special offer on Kindle Here:

Working on her busy flower stall in Champion Street Market, Betty has lots of opportunities to observe her customers, and to speculate on their lives. Sam regularly buys bouquets for his wife, Judy, so why does she always look so worn out and miserable? Leo comes every week for flowers for his mother, but has never bought so much as a rosebud for his elegant wife. Betty’s own husband went off long ago, so is it any wonder if she and her daughter, Lynda, have such a dim view of men? But all that is about to change…

Available on special offer on Kindle here:

Covers by Samantha Groom
And these are but a few of the characters you’ll come to know and hopefully love.
The other three titles will follow in the new year.

What they say:
‘The new series will be greeted with joy by the thousands of women who enjoy her books.’ Evening Mail

‘You can’t put a price on Freda Lightfoot’s stories from Manchester’s 1950s Champion Street Market. They bubble with enough life and colour to brighten up the dreariest day and they have characters you can easily take to your heart.’

The Northern Echo

‘Romance doesn’t come sweeter than this tale of love and chocolate set in the grimy streets of 1950s Manchester.’

Lancashire Evening Post

Best wishes,
Freda

Tall Poppies.

2011-11-30T09:01:00.000Z

Severn House
ISBN:9780727881366
December release in hardcover.

One Woman - Two loves.England 1918

If it's not enough that a girl from a good background is forced to work as a maid, Livia Carr is then violated by the master of the house and becomes pregnant. Her only course is to marry the son of the house. Richard Sangster is an invalid, a world war one hero. He is not expected to live, and he offers Livia and the child legitimacy, as well has his name and estate. Livia grows to love Richard, but even though it's expected, his death comes as a great blow to her. Into the breach steps Livia's first love, and Richard's closest friend, surgeon, Denton Elliot. But will he desert Livia when the secret of the child's parentage is revealed to him. . .?

Note from Author.

When I came up with the idea of a woman who loved two men equally, I was a bit dubious that I could pull it off, and still create reader empathy with my two leading men. I was also worried that making one of them an invalid might be going a step too far - and wondered, would I capture them as authentic as men with their own point of view? I'm assured that I did. In the words of my editor, who is a man, "I thought this was a wonderful story that keeps you gripped until the very last pages – very glad there was a happy ending after so much strife!

Old, but not out!

2011-11-13T07:34:00.000Z

A lovely write up about two of my earlier books, Kitty McKenzie and it's sequel. It's so lovely to see when someone enjoys my stories!
http://aussiebookreviews.aussieblogs.com.au/2011/11/08/anne-whitfield-kitty-mckenzie-and-kitty-mckenzies-land-review-by-kelly-mclean/

Suddenly left as the head of the family, Kitty McKenzie must find her inner strength to keep her family together against the odds. Evicted from their resplendent home in the fashionable part of York after her parents’ deaths, Kitty must fight the legacy of bankruptcy and homelessness to secure a home for her and her siblings.

Through sheer willpower and determination she grabs opportunities with both hands from working on a clothes and rag stall in the market to creating a teashop for the wealthy. Her road to happiness is fraught with obstacles of hardship and despair, but she refuses to let her dream of a better life for her family die. She soon learns that love and loyalty brings its own reward.

Kitty McKenzie path has taken her from the slums of York to the inhospitable bush of colonial Australia. Yet, when she believes her dreams will never be attained, she is shown that sometimes life can be even better than what you wish for.

1866.

Kitty McKenzie is gifted land in the far north of New South Wales. Life at the northern property is full of hardships as she learns how to become a successful landowner.

However, Kitty’s strength of will and belief in herself gives her the courage most women of her time never realize they have. A decided thorn in her side is the arrogant and patronizing Miles Grayson, owner of the adjourning run. He wants her gone so he can have her land, but he wants her even more.

Available in paperback and Kindle from all Amazon sites.

http://www.amazon.com/Kitty-McKenzie-ebook/dp/B000R93D44/ref=pd_sim_kinc_1?ie=UTF8&m=A24IB90LPZJ0BS

A Remembrance Memory

2011-11-09T12:38:00.000Z

"We hung by our eyelids" my dad wrote, after surviving the Sicily landings during World War 2. His small LCI's prepared to release the waiting troops to the shore as the ships, little corks of crafts, bounced on choppy seas. The men inside these metal boxes were prepared to give their lives for King and Country and it was these scenes I drew on when I wrote CONNIE OF KETTLE STREET my third historical novel. I'm now writing my tenth and IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER reflects on the Great War and its repercussions. Released in time for Remembrance Day, it has a very timely birth. But each book, in some way or other has touched on the issues of world conflict. And I'm sure many other authors here too, can say the same. We're still engaged in conflicts of all kinds, so the stories of courage and loyalty are never-ending for the human race and which give us, as writers, powerful images to work with. I think our genre of writing is flourishing, despite the current negative aspects of publishing. So this Sunday I shall be remembering all you guys, the scribes and story-tellers who record for posterity the history of our lands in fiction, for today's hungry market and the generations of readers to come. Love to you all, CarolRx

The humble apron

2011-10-15T08:00:00.000+01:00

Do our daughters, I wonder, appreciate the value and history of the humble apron? My gran wore one of the overall variety, a floral wrapover that completely covered her dress, and she thought little of the frilly version my mother wore. Yet they both served the same purpose, or rather multi-purpose.

The principal use of both was primarily to protect the dress they wore underneath, because they had very few of those and many aprons. It was also far easier to wash aprons than dresses, particularly at a time when fancy washing machines were in short supply.

But an apron had many other uses. It served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven, or to place a hot apple pie to cool on the window sill. It was perfect for drying children’s tears, rubbing clean a dirty face, or for a child to hide behind when confronted by strangers. It could be knelt on while scrubbing a step, and it was surprising how much furniture an apron could dust in a matter of seconds if unexpected company suddenly called, or how quickly it could vanish and leave Mum looking clean as a new pin.

Within the mysteries of its pocket could be found a boiled sweet, a few pegs for the washing line, a handkerchief for a child’s runny nose, a hair grip, scissors, and a bit of string in case something should need tying up or ‘fettling’ as my gran would say.

An apron often came in useful when a bag or basket wasn’t to hand. It could be used for carrying eggs from the hen coup, or vegetables picked from the garden. Logs and kindling would be brought into the kitchen in that apron, and after the peas had been shelled sitting on a stool at the kitchen door, it would carry out the hulls to the compost heap.

Mum would use it to wipe a perspiring brow as she bent over the hot fire or cooker, to wipe her hands on if called unexpectedly to the door. And when the weather turned cold she’d wrap it around her arms while she stood on the doorstep enjoying a bit of crack with a neighbour.

And on top of all this, it could also be seen as a sex symbol, as shown in the Lucille Ball picture.

Our daughters, not to mention ‘elf and safety’, would surely have a fit at the thought of all the germs that no doubt could be found upon that apron. But I don't think I ever caught anything infectious from any of them, only a great deal of love.

To Take Her Pride by Anne Brear

2011-10-15T06:00:00.000+01:00

Recently I received the cover for my next historical novel, To Take Her Pride, which is set in Victorian Yorkshire and is due out in March 2012 under my new pen name of Anne Brear!

Blurb:

1898 Yorkshire.

Aurora Pettigrew has it all, a loving family, a nice home, a comfortable life. She’s waiting for the right man to offer her marriage, and the man for her is Reid Sinclair, heir to the Sinclair fortune and the love of her life.

But, Reid’s mother, Julia, is against the match and her ruthlessness unearths a family secret that will tear Aurora’s world apart.

Unwilling to bring shame on her family and needing answers to the allegations brought to light by Reid’s mother, Aurora begins a long journey away from home. She leaves behind all that is familiar and safe to enter a world of mean streets and poor working class.

Living in the tenements of York, surrounded by people of a class she’d never mixed with before, Aurora struggles to come to terms with the way her life has changed. By chance, she reconnects with a man from her past and before he leaves with the army to war in South Africa, he offers her security through marriage.

Aurora knows she should be happy, but the memory of her love for Reid threatens her future.

When tragedy strikes, can Aurora find the strength to accept her life and forget the past?

More details coming soon....

Changing Times

2011-10-09T22:26:00.000+01:00

Changing Times

I always think of historical as 1900 and earlier, and certainly not within my living memory, even if the years are flying by far to quickly. Yet even yesterday was history.
Recently I have been re-reading the books I first wrote as a published author and uploading them on Amazon and Smashwords.With advice from Freda Lightfoot and Chris Longmuir). They were light romances published by Robert Hale. They were never intended to be historical but already there have been so many new developments since the 1980's. As an example my firt three books were written by hand and then typed on my portable typewriter - using plenty of Tippex I might add, as I was not a typist. Then along came the Amstrad computer - bought for me to do the farm accounts. It had a a word processor and I thought it was
magic. I wrote my fourth romance novel in a quarter of the time but how the details in the content have changed, already classed as history by
youngsters.
As an example there were no mobile phones at that time. If there had been my plot would not have worked. Writers find a way of getting round problems so I suppose I could have made the excuse of no reception once or twice - but not all of the time. Today even school children have mobile phones and can be instantly in contact.
Another novel has a query about the identity of the boy'd father. Although DNA was discovered in 1953 it is only in fairly recent times that an ordinary member of the public would, or could, insist on DNA testing to prove he was the father. It would have spoiled the first half of my plot entirely.
The word processor encouraged me to attempt a much longer novel - my first historical saga called Fairlyden. I went on to write three more in that series. So much as I love historical novels I shall always be grateful for modern developments which have made life easier. Whether we like it or not. Books to download do seem to be growing in number. There are a lot of pros and cons but the debate is not a topic for this parituclar forum at - least not until it becomes part of history.

Flogged in the First World War

2011-10-08T15:49:00.002+01:00

October - a very exciting time of year for me! IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER, my eighth novel is set in 1919. There is, of course, a central romance between my heroine, Birdie Connor and her shop-keeper sweetheart. But Birdie's loyalties are tested when brother Frank, veteran soldier and accused deserter, escapes from prison. The idea for this story comes from the experiences I knew my grandfather had in the First World War. He was an infantry man in Belgium, judged to be a deserter, tied to the wheel of a gun-carriage and flogged. Many men were not strong enough to survive these merciless crimes of war. By a miracle, my grandfather did. Though unsurprisingly, he returned to Britain, a changed man. After his death in the fifties, my Nan was free to talk about his experiences. Many men couldn't bear to discuss what had happened to them for the stigma was shameful. And Granddad was no exception. But the truth was, the terrifying shelling and poisonous mustard gas had caused Granddad - and other young boys some only fifteen and sixteen who had lied about their ages to enlist - to become separated from their unit. Granddad was made an example of; a very successful strategy for the army as the shell-shocked and walking-wounded were classified as cowards if they were unable to perform their duty to King and country. I was a very small child during the last part of Granddad's life. He was racked by coughs and found breathing exhausting. This tall, gaunt, haunted-eyed man with whispered words and heart-felt pauses, tucked a few boiled sweets into a small brown paper bag for me every Saturday. I remember his long, artistic, gentle fingers curling over the paper as though it was something very precious. He did this right up to the end and there was something in his expression that bound me to him in a very special way. So IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER expresses all I have learned about brave men who have been labelled cowards - and the support of their families who deal with post-traumatic stress syndrome. We have a name for it now, but in those days many just said, "Pull up your socks and get on with it". Birdie Connor ( like my Nan and aunties), is a fighter. She won't back down and she believes in her man. It's stirring stuff and I'm so glad I was, at last, able to write it!

Downton Abbey and In the Bleak Midwinter

2011-09-27T10:23:00.001+01:00

Lesley Nicol and Sophie McShera, who play the splendid Mrs Patmore and daffy maid, Daisy, are part of a sub-plot in the much-mooted and popular costume drama, Downton Abbey, showing currently on ITV. A young nephew of Mrs Patmore's has been recorded as dead without much other information given to the grieving relatives. This theme is also the mainstay of my own novel, IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER, published October 13th and my most challenging work so far. This hard-core theme deals with the repercussions of a young man, shot for cowardice by his own side, rather than dying a hero on the front line. In Mrs Patmore's words, what could be worse than death? Without a doubt, it was cowardice. A white feather was given to individuals who were thought to have reneged on their duty or failed to turn up for certain death at the army recruiting office. Similarly, when the troops found themselves waging battle with the enemy whilst experiencing shell-shock, effects from the mustard gas, and horrific injuries that made them vulnerable victims of warfare, such was the feeling between 1914 - 1918, that many young men were shot or imprisoned by their own ranks. Very often too, they were only boys of fifteen and sixteen, having disguised their ages to answer the call of their country. Downton Abbey has included this as a sub-plot involving Mrs Patmore, the cook, but in my own story, I bring the injustice, fear and desperation of my heroine's brother Frank, into the heart of the novel. His imprisonment for cowardice provokes my heroine, Birdie Connor, into challenging the British judicial system. Not a common thing to do in those days, even for an aristocratic family, as we see in the TV drama. Birdie is an East Ender and working class. At twenty-one she's on the brink of marriage to her sweetheart and a happy future after the war. She risks all this in her fight to prove Frank's innocence. She absolutely refuses to be beaten by her own fears and the pulling together of ranks in Whitehall. My story was drawn from what happened in real life to my grandfather, an infantry man in the First World War, lashed to the gun wheel, flogged mercilessly and accused of desertion. He survived miraculously, but many like him didn't. I dedicated this book to the Buffs, my father-in-law's brave regiment. I hope that Downton Abbey reminds us of how proud we should be of any man attempting to fight for his country - for just "showing up" to put his life on the line, as so many of our troops have done and are still doing in contemporary times and indeed, over the long, and hard-won decades of history.

The House of Women: new review

2011-09-16T11:05:00.001+01:00

THE HOUSE OF WOMEN
Anne Whitfield, Knox Robinson, 2011, £12.99, pb, 381pp, 9780956790187
-
The House of Women is a poignant, very readable novel of life in Victorian England, which is set in Leeds at the height of the Victorian era in 1870. The moving story follows the life of Grace Woodruff, the eldest of seven daughters, who has to assume responsibility for her sisters and their vast estate.

Grace has put aside her own broken heart, as she is rejected by her first love, in order to keep the family together. Her mother has withdrawn to her rooms, and Grace becomes the buffer between her sisters and their violent, tyrannical father. Grace struggles to keep the family together through a compelling story which is woven with violence, alcoholism and out-of-wedlock pregnancies, rejection, illness and impoverishment.

Although there is betrayal, hatred and lies, there is also love. The rich, colourful, complex characters bring this family saga to life. It is beautifully written with a very strong heroine who, even when the rest of the family are pulling her in many ways, tries to stay strong, although there is the odd slip along the way. As the story unfolds we meet an admirer for Grace, the butler, and a shift foreman is also smitten with her. Grace really wants to have her own family, and when the possibility of love comes along, Grace must decide if she should give up the responsibility of the House of Women and take her own chance of happiness.

The challenges Grace faces with twists and turns along the way make this book a great read. It has the reader hooked from page one, keeps the reader guessing and is difficult to put down once started. An excellent book, highly recommended.

Barbara Goldie
Historical Novels Review (August, 2011)

Purchase from Amazon USA
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=anne+whitfield&x=0&y=0
Purchase from Amazon UK
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=anne+whitfield&x=13&y=21

2011-09-10T00:36:00.002+01:00

How and what do we write? Most of us reply in generic terms initially, for instance, non-fiction, fiction, historical, novels, sagas, family dramas, crime, thrillers, fantasy, sci-fi and lately with ebooks, there is a great deal of genre mixing, something traditional publishers once discouraged. But now, if it’s a good story and the book will sell well, who cares quite so much about its label? As we’ve moved along the technical route, people have shorter spans of attention and want to get to the nitty-gritty as fast as possible. People want page-turners and we need to make our novels exciting from the very start. I write with an emphasis on dialogue as that's the way my brain works. My East End “inner” voice springs from my childhood, growing up amongst colourful, no-holds-barred, dynamic, lyrical, unforgettable cockneys who to this day, live in my mind as fiercely as they did when I was a child and a teenager. And so, once I am in the vortex of writing, I hear nothing but their voices and I know it’s my job to record them as honestly as I possibly can. Perhaps the voices do come from a collective unconscious linked to my own emotional focus. But whatever it is, the words flow onto the keyboard. Not that I haven’t given the plotting a great deal of thought beforehand. But, for me, the real writing comes in the voices and those special words that come in the guise of characters, those chosen words that sometimes reflect the entire story. For instance, does anyone remember the film, WHISTLE DOWN THE WIND with Alan Bates and Hayley Mills? Bates (the man) is found sheltering in the barn by a young girl who gets the fright of her life as he appears. Do you recall the two words he utters that dominate the rest of the movie? In fact, they ARE the movie. Such a classic! Such a gift to us, as writers! Go to Utube for a flashback!

Finding Inspiration

2011-08-26T08:26:00.005+01:00

I am often asked how I get the ideas for my books. The answer is anywhere and everywhere: from books, newspapers, things I've experienced, stories people tell me.
For instance, just after WW2, my mother worked in a home for unmarried mothers. The girls (some of them very young) were taken there a few weeks before the birth to have their babies who were then taken away for adoption. A week or two later they were sent home and expected to get on with their lives as if nothing had happened.
That story stuck in my mind. I couldn’t help wondering how the poor mothers must have felt. Could that be a basis for a story? What if my heroine was married to a serviceman who was away fighting in France in the Great War? What if she fell in love with someone else? What if he, too, was sent away to France, leaving her pregnant? That would have been the ultimate disgrace in those times. What if her parents insisted on having the child adopted? How would she feel? How would she cope? I asked myself what kind of life would this baby have? What would her adoptive parents be like? Rich or poor? Would she be cared for and loved? Would she be told the story of her birth or would it be kept a secret from her? What if the real mother does find her daughter again, how would she feel? What could she do about it? In answering those questions I had The Summer House.

On the other hand, The Fountain was inspired by a competition run by my local newspaper some time before to design a new fountain to go on the market square. It resulted in hundreds of entries, some well drawn, others scribbled on the backs of envelopes. None of them was ever used, except by me as inspiration. I set it between the wars when it was easier for unscrupulous public servants to get away with corruption. If my heroine was married to such a one, how would she react? Would she support him or would she rebel?

The Kirilov Star was the result of my fascination with the Russian Revolution and the fate of the aristocracy, particularly the story of the possible survival of Grand Duchess Anastasia, (since disproved), but supposing my heroine did survive and was brought out of Russia as a child to be adopted and brought up in England? How strong would her Russian roots be? Would they be strong enough to make her abandon a comfortable life to go in search of them?

The Stubble Field also came about from two books I had been reading: The Workhouse by Norman Longmate and The Railway Navvies by Terry Coleman. I asked myself what it must be have been like to be forced into the workhouse where husbands were separated from wives, brothers from sisters and what happened to the children when they went out into the world? Did they ever see their siblings again? The hard lives of the navvies fascinated me: all those miles and miles of railway lines built with nothing but shovels and strong muscles. Together they gave me my story.
The book is long out of print, but recently I have put my toe in the water of e-publishing and now renamed A Line Through Chevington, it is once again on sale as an e-book, together with its sequel Promises and Pie Crusts.
http://www.marynichols.co.uk

The bobbin makers of Grizedale Forest

2011-08-20T18:36:00.001+01:00

Stott Park bobbin mill is most definitely worth a visit for anyone who wants to see a living piece of history. Tucked away in the Grizedale Forest in a most beautiful setting, the bobbin makers carried out their sometimes dangerous craft with diligence. The moment I visited I knew I had to write about it.

The late Bill Hogarth spent hours taking me through Grizedale Forest teaching me the tricks of his trade on coppicing, making hurdles and swill baskets. Stan Crabtree and Bill Grant also enlightened and entertained me on the skills of forestry.

Even the charcoal maker patiently explained his craft to me.

Most of all I loved the evening I spent with the ‘Bobbin Girls’ themselves Eileen Thompson, Joyce Wilson and Pat Hogarth regaled me with their yarns and the wonderful tricks they played on each other in the bobbin mill. How they would put a mouse in a friend’s bait box (lunch) which meant there would be little left of the poor girl’s sandwiches. Mice were a common pest among the wood shavings. They also painstakingly described all that was involved in the making of bobbins, a skill I would not wish to try considering the hidden difficulties and dangers. Bobbin makers are well known for being a digit short. Fortunately, Eileen, Joyce and Pat still have all of theirs.

The Bobbin Girls is one of my favourite historical sagas, now available as an ebook on Amazon Kindle. It was a joy to revisit it for editing purposes, as I’d largely forgotten it.

And is there a romance in this book? Of course.

Alena Townsen, a fiery tomboy from a large, happy family, wants nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with her childhood friend, Rob, the only son of James Hollinthwaite, a wealthy landowner. Hollinthwaite, however, has other ideas and when he forces the two to part Rob is sent away to school while Alena must start work in the local bobbin mill. Life is hard and her love for Rob severely tested. Torn between two men, her indecision is heightened by the knowledge of a tragic secret. Dolly Sutton has problems of a more intimate nature, while shy and unassuming, Sandra Myers finds herself an unlikely campaigner against Hollinthwaite’s destructive plans for the village when he ruthlessly sacks the man she loves.This is a moving tale of thwarted young love, and trust me, you will like the ending.

The Bobbin Girls. Now available in the Kindle Store:

RIP: Jean Saunders

2011-08-08T04:07:00.000+01:00

I was very sorry to hear of author Jean Saunders's death last week. A prolific author of many fiction, non-fiction books and short stories, Jean was also known by her pen names: ROWENA SUMMERS, RACHEL MOORE, JEAN INNES, SALLY BLAKE and JODI NICOL. Although many a saga author, Jean also wrote crime (published by Robert Hale, a UK library publisher) and the odd erotica story.

For more about Jean you can visit her website: http://www.jeansaunders.net/

Some of the books Jean wrote:

"You Know What I Mean 'Arry?"

2011-07-22T19:58:00.002+01:00

Such a lot has happened on the writing scene lately! Anne has told us that last month we had 1,627 visits to this blog. Way to go, girls! Since I last posted, Anna Jacobs, Gwen Kirkwood and Freda Lightfoot have all written their news, including the sad notification Iain Blair better known as Emma, died on July 3rd, leaving behind him a legacy of great stories. This year we also lost Gilda O’Neill, a prolific writer of stories about the East End of London, my neck of the woods, though Gilda’s turf was Poplar, whilst I’m more Millwall and Cubitt Town. My family are costermongers, dockers, bird fanciers, dodgy dealers, marketers and shop-keepers. The Isle of Dogs is a horseshoe of land jutting out into the River Thames, comprising West India Docks, Millwall Docks, Blackwall Basin and South Dock basin. The island was once so poor, Gilda’s Poplar was regarded as posh. She’d laugh at that! On the island, no one ever had new clothes, shoes or furniture. Everything was begged, borrowed or stolen. And then of course, there were the markets. But even these sometimes, were regarded as rip-offs. The Isle of Dogs was the Luftwaffe’s first port of call in World War 2. It was the docks the planes went after, but Mum’s house was razed to the ground. My Nan and aunties finally fled the Doodlebugs, the eternal brick dust, the night and day catastrophes and deaths, depleting almost every family on the island. Mum survived the night of the worst raid. She didn’t like the Anderson or the underground, so she hid under the table. The front door of our house blew in and met the back door, then Mum got out before the whole lot caved in. Granddad was blown off his bike and into the docks, but he was a strong swimmer. Dad shimmied down from the control box on his crane, ran through the foot tunnel from Greenwich, and stood staring at our terrace in Chapel House Street. My Nan and aunties had survived. Mind you, they left pretty quick, bundling aboard a bus to Oxfordshire. The little they had was left behind and for the next six months they were shuttled around the country. Mum returned to the island to wait for Dad’s call-up. When the buff envelope came, she refused to let him go. I wouldn’t mess with my mum now, at 92, and I don’t think Dad fancied it much then. But he had aspirations. He was a good man, an intelligent one. And he did his tour of duty for the next five years. Goodness only knows how he survived. But he did. So, no need for me to wonder what I should write about, then? And now, well, the world is changing again and I’m still here to be part of it. What a privilege! This time, it’s the Digital tsunami! So exciting! All of us are in awe of Freda (Lightfoot) – who has paved the way for self-publishing digitally. And much to our surprise, we can hear the bombs dropping in the publishing world. Writers are confident enough now to take more control of our futures. Rejections? What the heck! We’ll publish ourselves! Not quite the Blitz, but then, some elements seem familiar – the human spirit is so resourceful – and brave! In a great fighter’s words, “You know what I mean ‘Arry?” Yes, I think we do!

Beyond the Sunset

2011-07-21T13:48:00.002+01:00

My husband and I were born in the UK, emigrated to Australia thirty years ago but love to return to the UK regularly. We still love both countries, just can’t cope with the UK winters.
The first time my husband suggested us buying a summer home in the UK and spending more time here, I shuddered and said no way, too much extra work. After all, I’ve got writing to do.
But I caved in, and I’m really glad I did. It’s been hard work setting up a two-country lifestyle, but the stimulation of our new life has made story ideas well up in greater numbers than ever before.
It’s no problem setting up the office equipment, but I worried about my huge collection of research books. How was I going to manage without those for my historical novels? The answer is, I plan ahead very carefully and do all my main and preliminary research in Australia. Then I use the living research in both countries – buildings, museums, people, the beautiful countryside, research books that don’t make it overseas.
Another thing has happened: with more exposure to people unfamiliar with Australia, I think I understand more about ‘showing’ them Australian history in my stories and I think that’s improved my stories. I hope so, anyway!
I’ve just had a series published set in Western Australia in the 1860s. (Farewell to Lancashire, Beyond the Sunset, Destiny’s Path) England was a busy industrial country in that decade, with railways connecting not only main cities, but small towns and villages too. Western Australia, physically as big as Europe, had a population of only 30,000 and no railways at all.I’ve also written a series of Wiltshire sagas, beginning with Cherry Tree Lane and Elm Tree Road

A set back in publishing

2011-07-21T10:19:00.001+01:00

Oh dear, it is ages since I contributed so my apologies. I can't say that my sagas are exactly historical since the fourth book in my present "Home" series has reached the 1970's - maybe that is historical to younger members!
Also my publisher was Severn House and they have refused to take it since Amanda Stewart, my editor, left. However it is to be published by Robert Hale. I am also struggling to put some of my older sagas on line, with the help of Freda's guidelines, but I have not quite managed it yet.

Mention of the late Emma Blair reminded me of one of his novels set in Jersey during the German invasion. Half Hidden was the title and I really enjoyed it. He does not wrap up the truth or flinch from the sorrow, or human failings.

VICTORIAN MISSES.

2011-07-21T08:09:00.003+01:00

Victorian Misses - Janet Woods

A friend stated that young women did not go out without a chaperone in Victorian Britain. These general sorts of statements don’t sit all that well with me, and this is why. Queen Victoria reigned for over 60 years, and over that time the world changed and progressed considerably.

I’ve written several books set in the “Victorian age.” “Hearts of Gold” started almost at the end of Victoria’s reign in the late 1890s. The heroine was a brat from the goldfields, sent to England by her mentor. My current release, “Lady Lightfingers" is also set in the “Victorian age” but fifty years earlier, and in the London slums. “A Dorset Girl” saga was set in the 1830s, earlier still. What did they have in common? Very little, except the heroines were not members of the privileged classes. Each book was researched separately for the period within that age, to make it authentic to its particular time.

Did the Victorians write books of etiquette for the majority of working class women? I doubt it. Most books of manners were designed for those who could afford to indulge in it. Fashion catalogues display silks and satin gowns, accessories such as kid gloves, fans and hats all through the period. Victorian ladies didn’t all wear hooped crinolines. Skirts got wider as Victoria's reign progressed then narrowed down and grew bustles, which were lost as the Edwardians indulged in a more elegant style. The same economics that applied then,apply now. The majority of lower middle class young women couldn’t afford designer wear, or chaperones . . . or even underwear come to that. It stands to reason that they couldn’t afford several changes of outfit, but might have a special one kept for Sunday best, weddings and funerals.

In 1891 women were told that, legally, they could no longer be forced to live with a man if they didn’t want to. This was a two-edged sword. Divorce brought scandal with it for the female, and usually loss of her children. Without income, often the alternative was to starve to death or take up prostitution.

Even Queen Victoria must have regarded herself as her husband’s chattel, for she was reported as saying, from her lofty position of top hen in her glittering henhouse – thus setting back the women's movement by a number of years, I imagine – “Let women be what God intended, a helpmate for her man, but with totally different duties and values.” With total respect, I wonder how she knew what He intended, and would she have said the same, had she been one of the 1,740,000 female domestic servants in England struggling to stay alive? Many maids in Victoria’s time took the occasional man to bed for supplemental income. They were called dollymops . . . very apt.
Victoria and Albert produced nine offspring, I believe. Of course, Queen Victoria never had to make ends meet, and (bless her) I wouldn’t like to have lived her life.

My mother’s child-raising wisdom came from clichéd and sometimes cutting little proverbs from her Victorian upbringing. I’ve been careful not to pass them on to my own. “Children should be seen and not heard. Spare the rod and spoil the child. You’ve made your bed, now you must lie on it. Pride goes before a fall . . . etc.”

Thank goodness we reach a point in life where we can think and reason for ourselves, and wonder at some of the tosh we accepted as wisdom. Unfortunately those wisdoms weren’t tosh to them. They were a necessary part of discipline. Mostly it was rule by fear, though that in its turn taught us respect. I was scared of anything with an official feel or a uniform attached to it – policemen, teachers, parents, priests, soldiers, bus conductors and fatherly lectures all signified authority. It didn’t stop me rebelling, even though one of my teachers was a reincarnation of Sweeny Todd, except she used a ruler instead of a razor.

So, our characters should be true to life, too. They should be encouraged to step out of the rule book and live their own lives. Over the sixty-year span that was the “Victorian Age” women weren’t all laced tightly into corsets, either metaphorically or literally). If we wrap historical characters in rigid rules, manners and clichés they’ll come across as cardboard, or at the very least, clones.

When I look at the “Victorian age” it has lots to commend it. On the industrial front, there were engineering breakthroughs, sewerage disposal was improved and railways networked. There was a certain amount of hypocrisy too – child labour, wars, forced immigration and starvation. But nothing was static. Advances were made in industry, medical and moral mores – too many keep up with. Bear in mind that change didn’t happen in all parts of England at the same time. The rural south trailed behind the industrialized north. So while some people enjoyed the luxury of train travel another part of the country might still be bumping around the countryside in a wagon.

Unless you can travel back through time it’s impossible to know how people actually acted or spoke in the past. Sure, they wrote letters, essays and books, and yes, I imagine somebody wrote a rule book. Writing is a more formal way of expression than speech. We all act differently when we’re on public view, but relax at home. When we write we don’t stutter or hum and har on the page. We don’t have people interrupting and turning our train of thought to something else, we don’t use body language to help people understand meaning, like we do face to face. We stick to the point.

Women wouldn’t have gone out without a chaperone? Some women, perhaps. But not the working classes.

Remember the early TV ads, where the lady of the house wore stilettos, make-up, beehive hairdos and false eyelashes, when they cleaned the oven with greasy goop? Did we all dress like that to clean the house in? Nuff said!

R.I.P. Iain/Emma Blair

2011-07-08T12:45:00.001+01:00

Most historical saga readers won't know of the name Iain Blair, but they do know of Emma Blair, the author of over 30 saga novels. Sadly Iain Blair died on July 3rd, leaving behind him a legacy of great stories.

From his website:

Iain wrote a number of plays for theatre and television and then naturally progressed to book writing. At first he tried writing thrillers without much success. Then he completed a saga Where No Man Cries and that's when Emma Blair was born. His publishers decided he'd sell far more books simply by being published as a woman.

"I was given absolutely no choice in the matter. They'd decided on a sex change and even the name. So that was that. Emma I became and Emma I've stayed," says Iain. "Many people ask me what kind of person Emma is. Well she's probably about late forties, a bit of a tough cookie and had a certain amount of personal tragedy which is why she writes with such passion."

I've read several of his books and enjoyed them very much. Like all good saga authors he was able to take the reader back to a time when life was different to what we know of now.

With his passing, another saga author has gone.

To read more about Iain Blair visit his website:
http://emma-blair.com/content/view/33/37/

Suffragettes

2011-06-20T09:00:00.001+01:00

My latest title, Angels at War, out this month in paperback, is the sequel to House of Angels, although the story will stand alone. Again this book is set in the Lake District, partly in the beautiful Kentmere Valley around the time of the First World War It’s a beautiful quiet corner of England which hasn’t changed much since. The nearest village is Staveley, situated between Kendal and Windermere, and the hills can offer some of the best walking the Lakes. Here is picture to tempt you to visit.

But this book is also about suffragettes. The suffragette movement in Great Britain was focused around Manchester as that is where Emeline Pankhurst and her family lived. The general election of 1905 brought it to the attention of the wider nation when Christabel Pankhurst and Annie Kenny interrupted Sir Edward’s speech with the cry: ‘Will the Liberal Government give votes to women?’

They were charged with assault and arrested. The women further shocked the world by refusing to pay the shilling fine, and were consequently thrown in jail. Never before had English suffragists resorted to violence, but it was the start of a long campaign. Their headquarters were transferred from Manchester to London and by 1908, and now dubbed the suffragettes, they were marching through London, interrupting MP’s speeches, assaulting policemen who attempted to arrest them, chaining themselves to fences, even sending letter bombs and breaking the windows of department stores and shops in Bond Street. They went on hunger-strikes while incarcerated, brutalised in what became known as the ‘Cat and Mouse Act.’ This ‘war’ did not end until 1928 when women were finally granted the vote in equal terms with men. They showed enormous courage and tenacity, were prepared to make any sacrifice to achieve their ends.

Livia is one such woman. She is fiercely independent – a ‘modern’ woman in her eyes, and having suffered at the hands of a brutal father, she is reluctant to give up her independence and subject herself to the control of any male. She dreams of bringing back to life the neglected drapery business, but standing in her way is the wealthy and determined Matthew Grayson who has been appointed to oversee the restoration of the business. His infuriating stubbornness clashes with Livia’s tenacity and the pair get off to a bad start. She then joins the Suffragette Movement which puts further strain on her relationship with Jack, the other man in her life, who she has promised to marry one day.

I’ve written about suffragettes before, as the subject fascinates me. How passionate these women must have felt to put their lives at risk in the way they did. Here is a description from the book of the force feeding ritual.

Excerpt:

This morning when the cell door banged open, instead of the tempting tray of food brought to plague them, came a small, stocky man with side whiskers and a mole on his chin. The wardress shook Livia awake.

‘Get up girl, the doctor needs to examine you. We can’t have you die on us for lack of food.’
There followed a humiliating examination in which she was again poked and prodded, a stethoscope held to her chest, her pulse taken. When he was done he turned to the wardress and gave a nod. The wardress smiled, as if he’d said something to please her. ‘If you will not eat of your own accord, then we must find a way to make you.

There were four of them now crowding into the cell, huge Amazonian women with muscles on them like all-in wrestlers, and they brought with them such a bewildering assortment of equipment that even Mercy paled.

‘Dear lord, they’re going to force feed us.’

They dealt with Mercy first. She fought like a tiger while Livia cried and begged them to stop, and finally sobbed her heart out as her protests were ignored. The four women held Mercy down, shoved in the tube and poured the liquid mixture into her stomach. When they were done they dropped her limp body back on the bed.

Then it was Livia’s turn.

She tried to run but there was no escape. They picked her up bodily and strapped her into a chair by her wrists, ankles and thighs, then tied a sheet under her chin. The sour breath and stale sweat of the women’s armpits made her want to vomit; their heavy breasts suffocating her as they held her down. The wardress was panting with the effort of trying to force open her mouth, while another woman held her nose closed. Livia did her utmost to resist, heart racing, teeth clenched, but she could scarcely breathe.

Then she felt the cold taste of metal slide between her lips. The implement, whatever it was, cut into her gums as the wardress attempted to prise them open. Livia tried to jerk her head away but it was held firmly by one of the women standing behind her. Once again pictures flashed into her mind of the tower room at Angel House, the place where her father had carried out unspeakable tortures upon the three sisters, bullying one in order to control the other.

Livia hadn’t been able to escape then, and she couldn’t now.

The constant stabbing at her gums and teeth was every bit as painful as having one drawn. The steel probe scraped against her gums, and Livia tasted the iron saltiness of her own blood, felt it trickle down her throat. She heard the rasp of a screw, felt the inexorable pressure of a lever. Either she opened her teeth beneath the unrelenting pressure of the steel instrument, or they would shatter. That’s if she didn’t die of suffocation first.

As Livia snatched at a breath a tube was instantly shoved down into her stomach. ‘Gocha!’ the woman cried in triumph.

It scraped down her dry throat, causing the muscles to convulse. Then the screw, or lever, whatever it was, jammed firmly between her teeth so that she could resist no more as a curdled mix of milk and egg was poured into her.

Livia felt as if she were choking, as if her entire body were filling up with the liquid and drowning her. When the tube was finally pulled out, the whole mess seemed to explode out of her, spraying the clean aprons and hard, unyielding faces of her assailants. They were furious and flung her on to the hard bed, gathered up their equipment and left her blessedly in peace, stinking of sour milk and vomit.

Angels at War, published by Allison & Busby - now released.

The Thrill of Seeing the Cover for the First Time

2011-06-18T21:05:00.000+01:00

I’ve just received the cover artwork of this year’s novel IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER and it looks stunning. A girl in a blue coat stares pensively from this cover, soldiers in the background returning from the Great War and street urchins following them. I must say that every time I see the cover of each book for the first time, I am blown away. But this one is really breathtaking and my thanks go to the Simon & Schuster team who made it possible. I also have a few lines at the top from Jean Fullerton, a wonderful East End author, who like myself, specializes in East End novels. On the back page, there’s a note for Dilly Court and Katie Flynn fans, who might like to read another gripping story written in the same genre. So from now until October it’s my job to profile my book to a loyal core readership and those new to the Rivers books. Here’s what Amazon has to say about IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER. (Hardcover August, Paperback October)

“Winter 1919. Two months after the Armistice that ended the Great War, and life in London's East End is slowly returning to normal. But for 25-year-old Birdie Connor the battle is only just beginning. Frank, Birdie's older brother, has been sent to prison for deserting his army post whilst fighting in Belgium, and the shame heaped on the Connor family by their neighbours is unrelenting. Wilfred, Birdie's widowed father, has disowned Frank and vows that he will never set eyes on his son again, but Birdie cannot believe that her brother is guilty So when Frank escapes from prison and comes to find Birdie in secret, she promises to help him and is determined to prove his innocence. But little does she realise that she is exposing herself to danger as Frank gets himself deeper and deeper into trouble with the so-called friends he met in prison. Helped by the Connors' lodger, the handsome Harry Chambers, will Birdie be able to find the proof that Frank needs in time to reconcile him to their frail father before it is too late? And can she build a future to keep herself and her younger brother, Patrick, safe?

Just released! The House of Women

2011-06-09T09:00:00.001+01:00

I'm so excited that my historical novel, The House of Women, is now released.

Blurb

Leeds. 1870. Lonely and brokenhearted, Grace Woodruff fights for her sisters’ rights to happiness while sacrificing any chance for her own.

The eldest of seven daughters, Grace is the core of strength around which the unhappy members of the Woodruff family revolve. As her disenchanted mother withdraws to her rooms, Grace must act as a buffer between her violent, ambitious father and the sisters who depend upon her. Rejected by her first love and facing a spinster’s future, she struggles to hold the broken family together through her father’s infidelity, one sister’s alcoholism, and another’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy by an unsuitable match.
Caring for an illegitimate half-brother affords Grace an escape, though short-lived. Forced home by illness and burdened with dwindling finances, Grace faces fresh anguish –and murder– when her first love returns to wreck havoc in her life. All is not lost, however. In the midst of tragedy, the fires of her heart are rekindled by another. Will the possibility of true love lead Grace to relinquish her responsibilities in the house of women and embrace her own right to happiness?

Excerpt

Grace blinked to clear her frozen mind as her mother and Verity climbed the staircase. If Verity was here then was William here too? Movement at the door caused Grace to close her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to open them and see the one man she’d longed for since she was sixteen.

        ‘Miss Woodruff?’ Doyle inquired at her shoulder.
        Startled, she spun to face him, but she was blind to him, blind to everything but the sensation of having William here. Crazily, she wondered if she would swoon like a maiden aunt.
        Doyle’s hand reached out, but he quickly tucked it behind his back. ‘What is it, Miss Woodruff?’
       Grace swallowed, feeling the fine hairs on her arms and nape prickle. He is here.
       'Good evening, Grace.’
       At the sound of William’s deep velvety voice, her heart stopped beating, only to start again at a rapid pace. Her stomach clenched and her legs felt unable to support her anymore. Slowly, she swivelled to gaze into William’s blue-green eyes and knew she was lost again. William smiled his captivating smile. He had aged, no, matured since their last meeting. He looked leaner, but broader in the shoulders. There was an aura about him, something that females of any age wanted. He made all other men around him seem insignificant. A magnetism, a mystical air surrounded him, catching Grace in its clutches once more.

Order The House of Women from Amazon.com, or The Book Depository, which has free postage and currently on discount.
http://www.bookdepository.com/House-Women-Anne-Whitfield/9780956790187

For more information about me or my books, please visit my website.
http://www.annewhitfield.com

LADY LIGHTFINGERS

2011-06-03T00:00:00.003+01:00

LADY LIGHTFINGERS
Janet Woods
Severn House
Hardcover release UK 30th June.

Celia Laws has a past to be ashamed of – by necessity, living in the London slums and on the wrong side of the law. Notably, by perfecting the art of being a pick-pocket, whilst at the same time, trying not to disappoint her mother, who is battling the odds trying to keep her daughter respectable .

After her mother dies she attracts the attention of budding lawyer, Charles Curtis, who offers her a fortune to part with her innocence. Celia takes the money and runs.
Taken in by her aunt, she makes a new life for herself.

But her past comes back to haunt her in the form of Charles Curtis, who doesn't recognize the beautiful young woman as the ragged waif from the London slums he once tried to buy. They fall in love, and the background Celia has been so careful to hide begins to unravel as her conscience begins to plague her.

More good digital news for us...

2011-05-26T16:20:00.003+01:00

Wonderful authors like our own Freda Lightfoot have paved the way for authors wanting to join the digital platform of ebooks. I'm blogging on this because it's been a few weeks of great esurprises,with the trade news assuring us that ebook sales are accelerating. Ebooks are here to stay and by the looks of it, may well become the most interesting topic of web discussion, including our own specialized arena of historical fiction. We may not even have to call it historical soon, for the tags to our work are changing too as a new and hungry readership wades in to confirm the wonderful news. Although Maureen Lee isn't a member here, what a fabulous writer she is! And this week launched her very own ebook, self-published, a departure from her normal genre of saga to a thriller called DUSK. Each morning there seems to be news of a new digital triumph, with sales of ebooks both in this country and abroad contesting those of paperbacks and hardbacks. All my online digests burst with ebook headlines. Ereader statistics prove this exciting new world is open to everyone who wants a piece of the digital action. Many authors are going it alone, without publishers, and achieving great success. They look to people like J.A Konrath, Barry Eisler and our own amazing authors like Linda Gillard and Freda and any number of us here on this forum, published by mainstream publishers and indeed, ourselves. How exciting are these times! If we feel our rejected novel should be published then it can be! Linda Gillard’s wonderful novel HOUSE OF SILENCE was rejected by mainstream publishers and so she decided to turn it into an ebook. Just a few weeks after she uploaded it, HOS hit the top of the ebook charts and stayed there. So the way is open to us all, if we are of a mind. I bought a Kindle at the beginning of the year and can’t imagine life without it. Somehow I read more, enjoy more, and love the computerized voice that allows me to rest my eyes or use my earphones as a welcome alternative to reading. The “little grey slate” as it’s known, is a miracle of invention for all ages, together with its brothers of different makes, shapes and sizes. It's such a tremendous time to be alive - and for historical writers the best!

Free historical short story

2011-05-14T10:19:00.000+01:00

My historical short story, A New Dawn, is now available for FREE on my publisher's website.

http://www.knoxrobinsonpublishing.com/bindex.php?cPath=17

Burb

Escaping a brutal father, Briony runs to James, the man she loves.
With his family’s blessing, they marry and prepare for a new life in a new country – America.
A wedding gift of two tickets to travel on an ocean liner is a wonderful surprise.
Full of anticipation and hope, they set sail.
Only, fate has sent them a challenge that tests, not just their strength and love, but their very survival.

Love With a Capital L

2011-04-28T20:59:00.003+01:00

On this special Eve, a sincere wish of good luck to every wedding couple, for marriage is still held by many to be the formula for happiness. Authors write about romance because their belief in Love is strong. At the heart of a cracking good Love Story, there is the couple who defy all obstacles to achieve their desire to be with one another eternally. The royal wedding this year sheds enchantment over our TV screens and flows out to the world, through the lens of the cameras. It's a moment in time, for Love and Lovers, captured in history for all to remember. My husband painted this picture for me when we married. It told of a midsummer Love and our dream of marrying under a canopy of trees in a bluebell wood or perhaps at Huddlesbury Head on the sea shore, late on a summer's night. Luckily our Love survived without nature's enchantment - or perhaps because of it. So here's to Love and Lovers everywhere, and may they all be blessed with eternal magic, because we all know it's Love (with a capital L) that makes us all truly eternal!

Dead easy...right?

2011-04-14T21:22:00.004+01:00

Many moons ago, in the land that time forgot, when lost in thrall to my very first attempt with M&B historicals, I read Mary Wibberley, a dedicated Mills & Boon author who wrote a How To book, that surely must be a classic. To mention her name now still gives me the goose bumps; the anticipation, excitement, hope and youth all mixed together in a heady cocktail of oh-how-much-I-want to be published! Along with her marvellous advice, came the 13 rules of how romance/plot/character should evolve. I wonder if anyone else remembers them? If my memory serves me well (which could be in doubt) they went something like this;

13 step structure for romance plots

1. Heroines social identity is destroyed

2. She reacts antagonistically to hero.

3. Hero responds ambiguously to her.

4. She interprets this as sexual interest.

5. She responds to his behaviour with anger or coldness

6. Hero retaliates by punishing her

7. They are physically and/or emotionally separated

8. Hero treats heroine tenderly

9. She responds warmly to his act of tenderness

10. She reinterprets his ambiguous behaviour as the product of previous hurt

11. Hero proposes his love for/demonstrates his unwavering commitment to heroine with a supreme act of tenderness.

12. Heroine responds sexually and emotionally

13. Her identity is restored.

Hmm, pretty straightforward, I thought (then). Let's have a bash. 2011, and I'm not quite so certain!

Worth the cost: Researching

2011-04-04T10:03:00.002+01:00

For any historical author, and most contemporary set writers, too, researching has to be done to make the book read as authentic as possible.

The smallest item can seem suddenly very interesting, and also extremely difficult to find the history about! Hours can be spent pouring over library books and the Internet searching for the right answer. We tear our hair out wondering if a certain item was invented and widely used in our period, etc. it can be terribly frightening, but also very rewarding when we do find the correct answer. I think it is very important for historical authors to get the period they write – right! However, that said, we are only human and we make mistakes no matter how hard we try not to. We can’t know everything (although we like to think we do) and that’s where different types of researching comes into it.

Sometimes, if we are lucky, we can travel to the places we set our books. Visiting castles, manor houses, streets and landscapes all help us to ‘see’ the place as our characters do. Of course over the years places and buildings change, but we have imaginations, good ones as writers do, and we can see how it would look through our characters’ eyes. taking numerous photos of one building, hill, village or street becomes common place for a writer.

Aside from traveling to a place, we can use our TVs and watch documentaries and movies to help set the mood. One of the best DVDs I have for my research is a walking guide to places around the Calder valley and Hebden Bridge area of West Yorkshire. Thankfully, I have been to that area myself, but if I hadn't just by watching the dvd I could see the steepness of the walks, the hills, etc, and that information would help write the book.

Research books are one of my favourite expenses. There is nothing like buying a large research book filled with interesting information and beautiful pictures to capture my imagination. I can never have enough of them. I sigh over them like some women sigh over a gorgeous pair of Jimmy Choo shoes or a Gucci handbag. Tragic, I know. But I don't want the cure.

Senior Moments

2011-03-31T20:24:00.000+01:00

We've all talked about forward planning in our lives and no less enthusiastically after the family has flown. One thing a writer knows at the beginning of her new project, is that it will be approximately a nine-month odyssey of labour and delivery, that in many ways reflect a familiar pattern. It's not a pink or blue nursery with pretty mobiles that I'm preparing, but an internal journey, shadowed with voices and unknown movement. I'll make, not visits to Marks&Sparks baby department, but epost an outline/synopsis to my editor and describe the life I hope to create. I've a name, not Sarah or Stephen, but a working title, and a form in my head that can't be detected by a scan, but by a place in my brain/heart called the subconscious. Each day a little weight adds to the embryo and the heartbeat suddenly kicks in, more than likely waking me up from a deep sleep. The little feet don't kick but the ideas tumble around, like a panic delivery from an online Tesco shop. In a sweat, I sit up and wonder what the heck I'm doing yet again at the beginning that white water ride of gestation. How do I connect with my baby before the weight piles on? How much knowledge of this mysterious creature is embedded in my mind? What do I have to do, to ensure a safe delivery? All my various strategies pale into fear and desperation in the middle of that dark night. I mop my brow and peer into the gloom. I've been through it all before; the relaxation, meditation, contemplation, and frustration. Shall I really do it all over again? And then the first light of dawn spills through the window. The ideas are subtly whispered through this inner child's voice. The whisper is so faint that it feels as though the minute I have it, the next, it's gone. But it will come again and I should have more faith. I know I am committed and that delivery date will happen, as it always has, within a predictable margin of time. I get up and make a cup of tea and gaze out at the trees and flowers, the first blush of spring that spills over the hedge. And I welcome this pregnancy and my invisible embryo, knowing that I'll be able to eat as many pickled gherkins as I fancy without being sick. I may not have a nursery, a set of three lemon babygrows and a wardrobe full of Pampers to organize, but I do have a blush-pink memory stick and sky-blue laptop, a Wi-Fi modem and an IPod. And sipping that first drop of Yorkshire Tea, I ask myself what senior-moment-writer could ask for more than this?

Anita Burgh: Bagpipes and Bullshot. Janice Horton

2011-03-31T19:05:00.001+01:00

My blog has been seriously neglected of late and I apologise but life has a habit of interfering with the best laid plans. However, my friend, Janice Horton has jogged me into writing of my interview with her.

Janice lives in Scotland and writes humorous contemporary women's novels which are inspired by the beauty of the heather-filled glens around her country cottage. When she’s not writing novels she writes lifestyle articles and has had work published in national magazines and regional newspapers. She’s also been involved in BBC Scotland's ‘Write Here Write Now’ project.

Have you always wanted to write?

Janice: I’ve had romantic notions about being a writer since I was a little girl. Enid Blyton was a favourite inspiration in the early days. I had a garden shed with ‘SS’ on the door in which I sat writing my own ‘Secret Seven’ books starring me, of course, and my brothers and friends. A few years later, I was still sitting in the shed, only writing pony stories inspired by Ruby Ferguson’s ‘Jill Books’.

Anita: Blyton was an extraordinary woman and despite the PC brigade still so popular. She must have inspired many.

How long have you been writing?

Janice: I began to write seriously ten years ago, and by that I mean with the intention of being published.

You are published in fiction and non fiction. Which do you prefer?

Janice: I really enjoy writing lifestyle articles for national magazines and regional newspapers but I absolutely love to write fiction. My first novel, When We First Love, was published in 2004 by a small publisher, which unfortunately went out of business just as I’d completed my second book, ‘Beneath Apricot Skies’ which I self-published. My latest venture is to indie e-book publish on Amazon Kindle with my novel ‘Bagpipes & Bullshot’. I’m excited to explore this intriguing new publishing media.

Anita: I think everyone in the publishing business are fascinated by the e-publishing phenomena, I certainly am. Do let us all know how it goes.

You work, you write, you blog, you have a family, you have animals, I am exhausted listing them all. How and when and where do you find and make time to write?

Janice: I don’t write every day, although I’d love to. A typical morning for me is sorting out admin and doing accounts. I run a small graphic design company that I set up years ago. After lunch, except on a Thursday, I work in the village as a legal secretary. So after seeing to the family, walking the dogs, and attending to the hens, it just leaves a few stolen hours in the evenings and one afternoon to write – unless, for the sake of my sanity, I take Time Out. This means taking a couple of days when I sit with my laptop at the kitchen table in front of the Aga, or on the sofa next to the fire and make it quite clear to everyone, dogs and hens included, that I’m U-N-A-V-A-I-L-A-B-L-E. I will not cook. I will not answer the phone and I will write all day without any interruptions. I stay up late. In fact, I might not go to bed at all, but if I do, it will be for a couple of hours of my own choosing. Sometimes, as a writer, extreme measures are required or we might never write all the stories trying to burst out of our heads or record the cacophony of voices resonating in our ears.

Anita: You are so right. There has to be an element of ruthlessness when writing, I’m sure. However, I do believe this is a problem mainly for women writers. We lack that essential ingredient for having the time – a wife!

Tell us why you have chosen to e-publish.

Janice: For two reasons: the first was that having been previously published both traditionally and independently, I couldn’t resist the challenge of having a go at e-publishing with Bagpipes & Bullshot, especially on Kindle because distribution and marketing on Amazon are so well established. The second reason was that I unexpectedly fell in love with the Kindle my husband bought me last Christmas and wanted to have my own books on it!

Anita: It certainly seems to be the way forward. We are writing in interesting times.

Who has influenced you the most?

Janice: I don’t know if I’m influenced by anyone actually, because I’m pretty independently minded. I can be inspired and I can take advice, in fact I actively seek it, but I don’t think that’s the same as being influenced. I tend to adopt ideas only if they meld with my own mindset or help me to achieve a predetermined goal. I admire others and have great respect for people who can do things better than I - but I’d rather innovate than imitate.

Anita: I’m surprised by your answer. Most authors I know have someone. For me it is Dickens, I read him and I loved him and I wanted to try and create worlds and people like his, even if they are pale shadows compared to his genius.

What advice would you give someone just setting out?

Janice: I would say write from the heart and listen to your Inner Voice.

Anita: Oh yes, that voice the only one you can really rely on.

Can you tell us about your novel in one sentence?

Janice: Bagpipes & Bullshot is a contemporary romance novel which twists an everyday love story with a whole cast of village eccentrics into an entertaining play on rural life.

What are you planning in the way of promotion for Bagpipes & Bullshot?

Janice: Well, it’s very difficult to get a new e-book noticed by potential readers unless it features on one or more of Amazon’s Top 100 charts, but because of the way Amazon calculates its sales, just a few sales on one particular day can make all the difference in pushing it through the charts. I’ll be blogging and tweeting all day on Friday 1st April my publication day.

For direction to all of the other places I’ll be appearing on my Blog Tour throughout the day please visit www.janicehortonwriter.blogspot.com I’ll also be running a prize draw on my blog (Friday 1st April only) to win Kindle Beach Protectors (an essential and stylish accessory for every Kindle but alternatively you could always use it to protect your camera or phone!) All you have to do to be in with a chance to win one is go to my blog and leave a comment or ReTweet one of my tweets using the hashtag: #bagpipes.

Anita: Thank you, Janice. Let’s hope you have a resounding success, you should, you’ve worked so hard at the promotional side.

House of Angels

2011-03-07T09:38:00.000Z

Sagas often touch on difficult subjects, in this case abuse. The three Angel sisters are ruled by a devil of a father, and the story tells how they overcome the damage such abuse inflicts. It is not always easy to write such scenes yet from the emails I get, they often touch a chord. Anyone who has ever suffered abuse, whether as a child or bullying in school, in a violent marriage, or even in the work place, will appreciate how the first thing you lose is self-esteem. You are demeaned, humiliated, debased and shamed so that you come to hate yourself. This is a deliberate ploy on the part of the abuser as it puts the power in his hand.

The abusive mentality makes certain their victim is allowed no control over their own life, no rights, not even to be angry or upset. There is a power in anger, and he, or she, as many of the worst abusers are women, claim full rights to that emotion. He is allowed to shout and criticise, to find fault and complain, but the victim is expected only to obey. The abuser also twists everything to suit himself, so that he is always right and the victim wrong. He has unrealistic expectations and if he doesn’t achieve them then he looks for someone to blame other than himself. An abuser is not generally a good listener, as he likes to ridicule, and arrogantly put down others to make himself feel good. Abusers are demanding, seeing themselves as the centre of the universe, and the victim their slave. They are intolerant and have to win every argument. The abuse may be mental in the form of name calling and insults, refusing to speak to or acknowledge a person, a withdrawal of love or praise, or to never be satisfied with the victim’s efforts at school or work, cooking a meal or whatever. Abuse is about power, control, and entitlement.

But no one is entitled to abuse another.

So how do you deal with it? First, as with the Angel sisters, you have to accept that it is happening, and then seek help. Someone, whether your teacher, mother, best friend, doctor or even the police, needs to be told.

Each of my characters are compliant to a degree, but react in different ways. Ella rebels secretly but is then forced into a marriage she does not want, Livia is openly defiant, but protective of both her sisters. Maggie is far too timid and suffers the consequences. But then another daughter unexpectedly appears on the scene, and her attitude towards this father who abandoned her is entirely different…

The Story...
The three Angel sisters live in a large Victorian mansion in the English Lake District. Josiah Angel, their bully of a father, looks upon his daughters as pawns to expand his empire.

The beautiful Kentmere Valley today.

Empty-headed, spoiled Ella is married off to a non-conformist farmer with three children in need of a mother. Amos Todd proves to be a cold, unfeeling man irrationally obsessed with cleanliness, who sees sex as wicked and women as Jezebels. But the beauty of Kentmere gradually seeps into her heart. Can she make a life for herself in the dale?

Livia is the eldest and most spirited of the three, and feels she must protect her more timid sisters. She longs to be a modern woman and work in the family store, but Josiah forbids that, but she can’t help falling in love with Jack Flint, a man untroubled by rules and convention who has already caused her father problems by inciting riots among his tenants.

The youngest daughter, practical, sensible Maggie is expected to keep house for her father with no hope of marriage, although she longs for escape even more than her sisters.

Mercy Simpson lives in the stews of Fellside in Kendal with her mother Florrie, a linsey hand loom weaver in the last throes of consumption. With her mother’s dying breath she learns that her father is none other than Josiah Angel, owner of the town’s fine department store. Florrie urges her daughter to seek employment there. But when Mercy presents herself before him, she learns how very ruthless Josiah Angel can be.

The Angel sisters need all their courage to escape the control of a brutal father, deal with the results of his abuse, and attempt to forge new lives for themselves.

A view of Kendal as it is today.

Here is a reader review.
This is the first book by Freda Lightfoot I have read and, despite the fact that I am not a lover of sagas, I was engaged with the story from page one. She piles horror on horror – rape, torture, sexual humiliation, incest, suicide - but she keeps you reading! The story of the Angel sisters, the novel is set in the Lake District in 1908, the title referring to the high-class department store their father owns. A tyrant, he successfully marries off one of his legitimate daughters so he can gain a plot of land he wants to build on. When his illegitimate daughter comes to him for help after her mother has died, however, he has her taken to the workhouse as, far from being of use to him, she is a threat to his standing in the town. Another daughter defies him, refusing to give up the working-class man she loves, while his youngest remains at home, hating him but unable to escape. How each of these four women cope with the life their father has forced on them, makes for page-turning reading, and I am sure that this novel will become yet another bestseller for Lightfoot.
Jay Dixon

Out 7 March as an ebook on Amazon

The Oasis

2011-03-02T15:26:00.004Z

I'm just researching the 1920 and 30's, the wilder element of those days! As usual I found a little international gem that led me astray, but thought it would make an entertaining post. Has anyone heard of the Garden of Allah, Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood? Nor had I, but apparently, Alla Nazimova, a mysterious, beautiful and hedonistic silent movie star, producer, stage actress and visionary, plus being a former concert violinist, created this wonderful oasis for the benefit of her actor chums. Nazimova converted her well-situated 1921 mansion estate into a three and a half acre semi-tropical hangout for the benefit of the following Names.Gloria
Swanson, Greta Garbo, John Barrymore, Clara Bow, Buster Keaton, Ramon Navarro, the Marx Brothers (especially Harpo), Ava Gardner, Errol Flynn, Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Ernest Hemingway, Lillian Hellman, Joe E. Lewis, Artie Shaw, Marlene Dietrich, George Kaufman and Larry Olivier. Not everybody wanted to be seen there - like Orson Wells because of the tangle of phony marriages, the fist-fights, the liquor,recreational sex, drugs, robberies and drunken rages that made up the era. Having their souls consumed by the Hollywood system, orgies, more robberies, feuds, money problems and sudden changes of plan caused the Garden of Allah to gain quite a bohemian reputation. I could have lingered in this fire-breathing, head-spinning, seductive area of research, but sadly my charaters are ducking and diving in the East End of London - though, take away the palm trees and champagne, there might not be such a leap of imagination...

Learning something new every day.

2011-02-28T19:07:00.001Z

As a native East Ender I pride myself that I know the London docks and the Wapping and Shadwell area of Stepney pretty well. I should do. My family, the Fullertons, have lived in and around St George’s in the East for the past two years but one of the joys of being a historical writer is that you discover such wonderful snippets of knowledge as you go along.
For example, I remembered in the early 60s that the west end of Cable Street was a no-go area for respectable women as it was rife with prostitution and the seedy strip joint that were no more than cafes with rickety tables. But I didn’t know that a century earlier the densely populated other end was nicknamed Knockfergus because of the Irish family who lived there. It’s actual cited on some old maps.
But it’s not just the area that gives me a surprise or two but some of the jobs and industries also.
In my latest book, Perhaps Tomorrow, my heroine, Mattie Maguire, is a young widow who is trying to make ends meet running the family coal yard. This might seem simple enough but the story is set in 1847. Coal was the Victorian’s petrol and vast quantities were needed for both domestic and industrial uses. OK I that information can be found on any history website or book but what about the day to day details Mattie would have to grapple with? Like, what were the different grades? How much a tone was? Was it always sold by the hundredweight or could you buy a bucket to tide you over until the end of the week? And what about the delivery men and their wagons?
Of course, Mattie’s story isn’t about coal. It’s about her struggle to keep the family’s East End business solvent, while she raises her young son and cares for her troubled mother-in-law and how everything she has worked for is threated because corrupt local benefactor Amos Stebbins. Help is at hand, in the handsome shape of fugitive Nathaniel Tate. Nathaniel knows all about Amos as he was wrongfully imprisoned by him. On hearing of the death of his family Nathaniel escapes and tracks Amos, the man he holds responsible for their death, down to Maguire’s and meets Mattie, who offers him work. As Nathaniel begins to help Mattie turn around the fortunes of the business he starts to think less of revenge and more of the possibility of a new future with Mattie. But then his true identity is revealed. On the run from the police, Nathaniel has to prove his innocence, expose Amos, and win back the heart of Mattie. But a furious Amos has other plans…

In the story the coal, wagons and the day to day running of the yard are only mentioned in passing but when they are, the authentic details are there in order to transport you, the reader, back to a 19th century coal yard. Of course, to see if I’ve succeeded in that regard you’ll have to read Mattie’s story for yourself.

Perhaps Tomorrow
Orion Books
ISBN: 978-1409122913
£9.99 or less.

New cover: The House of Women

2011-02-25T10:20:00.000Z

My Victorian historical novel, The House of Women, will be released May 9th!

more details soon.

FINDING INSPIRATION

2011-02-21T09:05:00.000Z

FINDING INSPIRATION

I am often asked how I get the ideas for my books. The answer is anywhere and everywhere: books, newspapers, things I've experienced, things people tell me, and a book might have more than one source of inspiration as in the case of THE SUMMER HOUSE, published in 2009 by Allison and Busby.

My grandmother was an indomitable lady who was midwife, nurse and confidante to the whole village of Necton in Norfolk from before the first World War until the coming of the National Health Service in 1948. She was not unique in what she did, there were thousands of women doing the same job. They were referred to as 'the handywoman' or 'the woman you sent for.' And when she was sent for, she always went, whatever the time of day or night

She lived with my grandfather and a maiden aunt on a small holding with no electricity, gas, main drains sewerage or telephone, just four walls and a roof and a few acres of land. The loo was down the garden, the bath hung on a hook on the outside wall and the cooking was done on the kitchen range When it got dark we sat by the light of an oil lamp and lit our way to bed with a candle.

Grandma was a fund of stories, told when something jogged her memory. When she began with 'That time o'day,' she wasn't talking about hours and minutes but times gone by and I knew there was a story coming. I heard about my grandfather's work as a shepherd, their disastrous wedding day, my mother's illness as an infant, helping the doctor take out a child's tonsils on the window sill of a cottage during an earthquake, about the first World War and the Zeppelins. I soaked them all up and the result was her biography, The Mother of Necton..

I was evacuated to stay with her during the second world war and it was that time which was the initial inspiration for The Summer House. WW2 is now considered history by publishers, which both amuses and horrifies me. I remember it so vividly it seems like yesterday. I remember the blackout, the blitz, rationing, shortages, the black market, the evacuees. That did not mean I didn't have to do any research. It is easy, looking back, to get times and dates wrong and things in the wrong sequence. The plot must fit the facts, not the other way about, though some of the films you see on TV nowadays seem to ignore that! I had my background. But background is only a part of it. I needed characters and a plot.

Just after the war my mother worked in a home for unmarried mothers. The girls (some of them very young) were taken there a few weeks before the birth to have their babies who were then taken away for adoption. A week or two later were sent home and expected to get on with their lives as if nothing had happened. She told me some heart-rending stories of what went on there and how she often had to take the new babies by train to London and hand them over on the station platform to another social worker who took them to their new parents. That way mother and adoptive parents were kept as far from each other as possible.

That tale stuck in my memory. I could not help wondering about the poor mothers and how they must have felt. Could that be a basis for a story? It was then I tried the what if exercise. What if one of my characters had an illegitimate baby? In the second world war it was still a disgrace, though becoming more common. In the Great War its impact would be even worse for the mother-to-be. What if my mother-to–be was an aristocrat? What if she was married to a serviceman who was away fighting in France? What if the marriage was not happy and she fell in love with someone else? What if he, too, was sent away to France, leaving her pregnant? What if her parents insisted on having the child adopted? How would she feel? How would she cope?

I asked myself what kind of life would this baby have? What would her adoptive parents be like? Rich or poor? Why were they adopting? Would she be cared for and loved? Would she be told the story of her birth or would it be kept a secret from her? What if the real mother does find her daughter again, how would she feel? What could she do about it?

In answering those questions I had my story.

Memories of You

2011-02-20T12:10:00.004Z

My mother, the youngest of thirteen children, was a scholarship girl. At the age of fourteen her parents told her they could no longer afford to keep her at school and that she had to leave and work for her living. She ran away from home - all the way to London where she got a job in a big house. After a while she left domestic service and found work as a 'Nippy' in a Lyon's Corner House. Helen, the heroine of my new book, 'Memories of You', is taken away from grammar school at the age of fifteen and eventually ends up in London. Helen finds work in a cafe in Soho and discovers a new and exciting world. She not only falls in love, she makes an entirely new life for herself. So did my mother, make a new life that is. For the difference is that mother came home for a holiday, met my father, and never went back to London. Helen stays and I'm pretty sure my mother would have approved of the way the story ends.

2011-02-18T03:49:00.003Z

My Family.

Spiked perhaps by the TV program “Who do you think you are?” I’ve recently developed an interest in discovering my ancestors. This is because we migrated to Australia from England over four decades ago, and it will give my children and those who come after, a back-story of family history.

Seeking out deceased relatives hasn’t become an obsession with me yet, but the more I uncover the more my curiosity is piqued, and the more the feeling of kinship with those who have departed grows.

Nothing remarkable has turned up yet. Both sides of the family I’ve managed to unearth so far were housekeepers, domestic gardeners, cattle dealers, brick-makers, chauffeurs, laundry-maids, fishermen and mothers.

And goodness, were they mothers! These women did it tough, with five, nine or even a dozen kids being a fairly normal brood - and the offspring being thinned out by disease, just as normal. Life is short when measured in decades, and it makes me wonder what humanity is all about sometimes. But this is the stuff historical sagas are made of, especially those that cross generations.

I always knew my “down south” paternal grandfather was a chauffeur. I have photographs of him in his uniform at the wheel of a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost. The copy of the County of London driving licence I have for him is dated 10th April 1911, and is valid for a year. However, by digging a little deeper I discovered he was a coachman before he drove a car, something I didn’t know. I’m in awe of anyone who can stay on a horse, let alone drive a team perhaps, and with a carriage attached.

My “up north” grandfather on the maternal side owned two fishing boats and he and his sons fished the North Sea. With a family of about eleven children to feed and clothe, life must have been extremely hard and dangerous. When I met him he also had an allotment.

Despite their humble occupations, there is pathos to be discovered . . . an uncle who died in the battle of Jutland at the tender age of 17. He was a boy seaman HMS Invincible his first ship. Imagine how excited and proud he must have been when he stepped on board for the first time. Then there are several infants in various churchyards who died of God knows what.

As for my other uncles, I found a little bald patch in the research for two of them. Then I remembered talk of Irish in the family. A bit of probing and I discovered they’d been born in Ireland, for I found them as infants on the Irish Census. And that was probably when grandfather used his coachman skills.

I’ve done my share of menial jobs like being a cleaning lady, a waitress, a shop assistant, wife, and mother to four – and at one time I followed a family trait of chauffeuring people around by being a taxi driver.

Now I’m an author . . . a saga writer, and that’s what I’d rather be remembered for – my creative input rather than my practical skills.

Snooping into the lives of the ancestors has given me lots of ideas for novels. I wonder . . . will a fall of the genetic dice produce a set of DNA similar enough to mine to create another author? Then again, there might already be one out there that I haven’t found. I guess I’ll just remain the odd one out on the family tree until I discover different.

Janet Woods

Writing what you know

2011-02-17T16:46:00.000Z

Writers are told to write about what they know. Good advice, although it doesn't take long to realise how little you do know when you start writing a book.

Luckpenny Land was the first saga I ever wrote. We were living on a small-holding at the time, out on Shap Fell in Cumbria, and as I trekked up the fellside in the freezing dark to check if our sheep were about to lamb, or to feed a pet lamb, I would be thinking: ‘There must be a book in this.’ But who would want to read about a middle-aged mum, with arthritis, being so stupid as to choose to live in a place where the pantry was colder than her wonderful Zanussi fridge, the winter snows would freeze the mains water supply in the field below the house every winter, as well as the battery of her car as it stands buried in snow in the yard. This was not a place for sun-loving wimps, which is what I’ve turned into now, of course.

So I thought why not write about a girl who wants to be a sheep farmer during World War II, only her Victorian father thinks it’s not women’s work. I could then use many of the incidents and anecdotes, the difficulties and drama of living this life, but write it as fiction. Of course, I realised that running a smallholding did not qualify me to write knowledgeably about running a large sheep farm, let alone during WWII, so I began by interviewing farmers.

Cumbrian farmers are a breed apart. Stoic, strong, taciturn, and distrustful of strangers, particularly those who have not lived in Cumbria for three generations. It’s not that they are unfriendly, only they’re more used to the company of themselves and their animals rather than a nosy, would-be author. At this point in my career I’d published 5 Mills & Boon historicals, but the prospect of a full-length saga was daunting, and I’d never done an interview in my life.

When I rang the first name on my list, a farmer out in the Langdales, I spoke first to his wife to ask if he would see me. ‘Happen’, she said, which I took as a yes. To be on the safe side I took my husband with me as he was used to dealing with Lakeland farmers in his business. And it worked like a charm. I asked the farmer a question, and he told David the answer. I was so nervous I didn’t even dare to switch on the brand new tape recorder I’d taken with me, so I scribbled notes like mad, and then even more later. I didn’t make that mistake again. But he was marvellous. He took me through his farming year, explained everything he did most carefully, and showed me pictures of his dogs. Not his family, his dogs. All the farmers I interviewed did that. It’s a nonsense to say farmers don’t care about their working dogs. Mr G’s dog appeared in the book, much to his delight, although the accident the fictional dog suffered was far more dramatic to that of the real dog, even if it had the same outcome. And no, I can’t say anymore on that without spoiling it.

Some of the farmers I spoke to were women. Although farming was a reserved occupation during the war, some men opted to join up and leave their wives to run the farm. I learned how to kill and scald a pig, how to wring a chicken’s neck and pluck it. (I kept hens myself but they all lived to a ripe old age) And all the various wangles they got up to during the war, like dressing up a pig as a person in the car so they wouldn’t be caught out selling one. Talking to these women inspired many plot incidents and ideas, many based on real life, including the most dramatic which takes place in Luckpenny Land. And I won’t spoil it by telling you that either.

I loved writing this series of books, now available in ebook form on Amazon, Apple etc. Luckpenny Land is also newly out in Large Print as the original version was too long, being nearly 200,000 words. I’ve now cut it in half. The second part is called Storm Clouds Over Broombank, also available as an ebook, and coming soon in Large Print. I’ll tell you about the last two books in the series another time.

You'll see that the covers are different, the one above is the Large Print, availabe in your local library, the one below is the ebook.

Life is hard for Meg Turner. She lives on a lonely farm in the bleak but beautiful mountains of the English Lake District with a bully of a father and a brother who resents her. They want to keep her stuck at home, but Meg wants more than the kitchen sink. For love and comfort she turns to her best friend Kath, and to Lanky Lawson, who’s more of a father figure than her own father will ever be. But it’s Lanky’s son, Jack, with his dark good looks, she loves and hopes to marry one day. Loyalties are threatened as World War Two approaches and Meg gradually realises that the only thing she can really count on is her passion for the haunting land she loves. Until one day a stranger arrives in the dale and her world changes for ever.

You can check out my website for an extract www.fredalightfoot.co.uk

Heart of The Home

2011-02-16T20:34:00.003Z

HEART OF THE HOME is the third book in my Home series, following on from Dreams of Home and A Home of Our Own.

Dean Scott and Avril Gray are the best of friends but their paths seem set to part when Avril goes to university. She has a promising career ahead but fate intervenes. She promises to care for her two young brothers although she believes no young man will want to share such a responsibility.
Dean is struggling to forge his own path as a dairy farmer and feels he is not good enough for an educated girl like Avril.
His mother is determined to keep them apart. When she discovers Avril is illegitimate and does not know who her father is the knowledge provides ammunition. She has a vicious tongue and confronts Avril in public, almost destroying her fragile confidence so that she thinks she ought to stay away from Dean.

Subject of girls' night out: Do you write SECRETS in your diary?

2011-02-16T15:54:00.002Z

Whilst enjoying a night out,crammed with comfort foods and hot gossip, I was asked if I had a good tip for writing enthusiasts. Apart from my usual “a tube of glue to spread on your pants before sitting down at the computer” ha, ha, I admitted that I would never go anywhere without a notebook. If you are thinking about writing a novel/story/bestseller I’d recommend a glance through your notebook or diary right now. Ideas should leap off the page, especially if you keep that diary locked! And re-read those crumpled notes under your pillow and in the scrapbook beside your bed. What has happened to raise your eyebrows? What secret confidence have you shared? What drama stretched you to breaking point? Who or what gave you the greatest joy/sadness/excitement/thrill? It’s the emotion you felt at this time that you can transplant into a fictional character. Mary Shelley did it so well when she wrote Frankenstein. Were the monster’s emotions also hers? Was she as lonely and desperate, as fearful and vulnerable as her creation? Mary adored her husband. But obsession was his undoing. Was it also Mary’s? We may never know the true story. The strong emotions on every mysterious and enthralling page are so vivid and honest that they give us an insight into Mary herself. And so it is for a writer. It’s the emotion that leads the way in – and creates the foundation for your bestseller.

Shortlist for Pure Passion Awards UK

2011-02-15T23:48:00.000Z

Katie Fforde, chair of the Romantic Novelists’ Association is delighted to announce the shortlist for the Pure Passion Awards 2011.

The RNA Pure Passion Awards celebrate the very best in romantic fiction. Over 200 titles were submitted for this year’s four categories, from the long-standing and hotly-contested Romantic Novel of the Year, to more recent additions which recognise the breadth of romantic fiction – the Historical Novel Prize, Romantic Comedy Award, and Love Story of the Year.

‘This year's short list represents the whole gamut of romantic fiction,’ said Katie Fforde, RNA Chair. ‘We have royalty, love letters, history and humour, from both newcomers and established authors. A truly impressive list.’
The shortlists
Over 200 books were submitted for the greatly-prized Romantic Novel of the Year. The shortlist of six titles have been selected by a panel of 85 readers from the general public. The winner will be selected by three independent judges – Amanda Craig, author and book reviewer, Foyle’s War actor and contributor to the blog Vulpes Libris, Jay Benedict, and fiction buyer for Waterstone’s, Janine Cook. The shortlist, in alphabetical order by author name, is:
To Defy a King Elizabeth Chadwick Sphere
The Golden Prince Rebecca Dean HarperCollins
Kissing Mr Wrong Sarah Duncan Headline Review
The Jewel of St. Petersburg Kate Furnivall Sphere
Amazir Tom Gamble Beautiful Books
The Last Letter From Your Lover JoJo Moyes Hodder & Stoughton

The Romantic Comedy Prize is organised and administered in the same way as the Romantic Novel of the Year. To reach the shortlist, the books must be laugh-out-loud funny. The winner is chosen by a panel of judges - Jane Wenham-Jones, author and columnist in magazine Booktime, Glenda Wood, Head of Libraries, Culture and Learning for Hertfordshire County Council, and Sara Craven, author of over 80 books for Mills & Boon. The shortlist is:
The Way to a Woman’s Heart Christina Jones Piatkus
I Heart Paris Lindsey Kelk HarperCollins
Mini Shopaholic Sophie Kinsella Bantam Press
Take a Chance on Me Jill Mansell Headline Review
Katy Carter Wants A Hero Ruth Saberton Orion
A Date in your Diary Jules Stanbridge Little Black Dress

Fiction submitted which is set pre-1960 is eligible for the Historical Novel Prize. As with Romantic Novel of the Year and Romantic Comedy Prize, a shortlist of six is selected by a panel of readers, and the winner selected by three judges – Richard Lee, founder of the Historical Novel Association, Elizabeth Hawksley, author and creative writing teacher, and Diane Pearson, president of the RNA since 1987.
The shortlist is:
To Defy a King Elizabeth Chadwick Sphere
Trade Winds Christina Courtenay Choc Lit
The Golden Prince Rebecca Dean HarperCollins
The Wayward Governess Joanna Fulford Mills & Boon Historical
The Jewel of St. Petersburg Kate Furnivall Sphere
Heart of Stone Jane Jackson Severn House

The Love Story of the Year is for a shorter romance where there is a strong emphasis on the developing central relationship. A shortlist of six is again chosen by the reading public, with the winner selected by three judges.
The shortlist is:
The Piratical Miss Ravenhurst Louise Allen Mills & Boon Historical
Mother of the Bride Caroline Anderson Mills & Boon Romance
Bride in a Gilded Cage Abby Green Mills & Boon Modern
Moving On Valerie Holmes Linford Romance
Fortunate Wager Jan Jones Robert Hale
The Captain’s Mysterious Lady Mary Nichols Mills & Boon Historical

Two Lifetime Achievement Awards will be presented to two people who have made outstanding contributions to romantic fiction and the Romantic Novelists' Association.

The winners for each award will be named at the Pure Passion Awards 2011, Monday, 7th March 2011 at a champagne reception at One Whitehall Place, Westminster.

Slender Wartime Waistlines

2011-01-19T20:00:00.003Z

World War ll may have been an age of austerity but with this came a natural way of being slim. It has been recorded that women were never so slender – or fit – as in the 4o's. The saying, “everything in moderation” was never so true as both food and liquids were rationed. Per week you were allotted 4oz of bacon, 8oz sugar, 2oz butter, one egg and 2oz of tea, to name but a few items affected. Chocolate, sweets and coffee, our comfort foods were practically non-existent. Oil and fats to fry in had to be squeezed from the little meat allowed, providing you stood long enough in a queue and had a ration book to show at the end of it. Living in towns and cities was very hard. Register at a local shop to buy your groceries and you might end up if you were lucky, with treasures like spam, potatoes, carrots and dried egg. In the country at least it was easier to grow your own and keep chickens. My Granddad tried growing his own veg in the back yard. But after the raids, what produce there was – should there be any left over from the unkind elements and poor quality soil - were covered in dust. Even the plane trees’ lives were numbered beneath the torrent of bombs. Other than the Mudchute, a waste area, there was no greenery, so no fruits or berries to gather. East Enders gave up trying to be versatile and settled for spam and the Woolton Pie, promoted by the government - a thin wafer of pastry laid over whatever vegetables were available. The pounds slipped from the waistline and filling men's jobs kept women active and focused. The austerity measures may have been unwanted and reviled, yet you only have to look at photos of women in the 40's to see how beautiful and confident they were – and SLIM!

2011-01-06T02:28:00.000Z

Benedict's Bride by Janet Woods (ebook)

Amber Rose Hartford’s grandfather made her dowry dependent on her marrying Viscount Costain. Though unaware of this condition, Benedict accepts it for more than one reason. He rescues Amber from her disreputable cousin Patrick, but before they can marry she is abducted. A large ransom is paid but Amber is not released. Benedict must rescue her again—and convince her of his honorable intentions.

Historical Romance by Janet Woods; originally published by Belgrave House

New Year

2011-01-02T20:30:00.003Z

I'm just taking this opportunity to wish everyone a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year. May our writing continue, with inspiration, perspiration and consternation, but always great satisfaction at the conclusion of our WIPS! Have a great 2011, guys! Love from Carol R X

A Christmas Truce

2010-12-22T20:19:00.003Z

I found this poignant letter during Christmas 1914-18 research at
http://www.christmastruce.co.uk
"Dear Miss Fuller and other assistants of the little tea shop. Just a few lines to let you know how we are all keeping. The 6th have been in the trenches twice. A good few of them had to go to hospital through the cold and exposure. They are hardly fit for this work. We were in the trenches on Christmas Day. We spent a merrier day than we expected. There was a truce to bury our dead. We had a short service over the graves, conducted by our minister and the German one. They read the 23rd Psalm and had a short prayer. I don't think I will ever forget the Christmas Day I spent in the trenches. After the service we were speaking to the Germans and getting souvenirs from them. Fancy shaking hands with the enemy! I suppose you will hardly believe this, but it is the truth. I often think about the little tea shop and wonder how you are getting on. Long may the lum reek at the little tea-shop."

Emotion

2010-12-12T21:33:00.001Z

How do you describe an emotion in writing? This is often a question a writer is asked. Quite out of the blue, my friend, an avid reader of celebrity mags, phoned me to say that to her surprise she was enjoying EAST END ANGEL, which she’d rashly bought at ASDA. We dug a little deeper and this is what she came up with. “It’s the emotions I like,’ she told me. “Anyone who has experienced them would know how Pearl (leading lady) feels. I kept going hot and cold and thinking, she’s just getting in deeper and deeper. Why doesn’t she stop? At the same time, I didn’t want her to.”

After we’d spoken I went back through Pearl’s journey, replaying the guilt and shame of the things she had done in the past, then the fear of her husband finding out. How would she keep the past a secret? She goes to all sorts of lengths, as all our heroines do if they are desperately in love (or lust). This made a very strong story-line and one which my friend pointed out, enjoying the conflict in relationships that are at the crux of all satisfying stories – and hot magazine articles! So I thought back to my own first encounter of reading fear, shame, guilt and doomed love. I came up with Dickens, a past-master of all these emotions, his writing interwoven with manipulation, deception, cowardice and courage, the darker side of life, but with a resolution that leaves a part of you impressed forever. So it seems a perfect ending to this year to find myself reading GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Dickens’ own secretly-guarded emotions seem even more alive for me now than when I first read the book decades ago. I’m now giving GE to my friend and have a pretty good idea that HELLO! could well be put aside for the holiday.

So easy to be a writer

2010-11-24T17:33:00.000Z

What an easy life you must have, being a writer, people say. You only need work when the muse strikes you, and it doesn’t really matter where you live. No hassle, a stress-free life… and much more in this vein. I hate to disillusion them but it isn’t like that at all, sad to say. I work flat out for several hours a day, most days of the week, month after month to produce a novel. Yes, I love what I do, but easy it isn’t. And there are also frustrations, certainly in living where I do in rural Spain.

I won’t bore you with the tale of trying to get a telephone. Still working on that one, although we do now have a radio phone which also provides us with the internet via microwave, would you believe? I keep hoping it might also cook my dinner one day.

And then there is the postal service.

When we first came to live out here, we’d been living in the village for some weeks and were beginning to worry, having received not a scrap of post. Fortunately those who’d been there before us pointed out that we hadn’t introduced ourselves to the postman. Ah, we thought, this must be an essential courtesy in Spain. So along we went to do just that and Pedro declared himself delighted to meet us, welcomed us to his village and handed us a large bundle of our mail which he’d been saving for us. It turned out that he was dyslexic and couldn’t read, but once he’d connected your written name with your face, everything worked fine after that, except when we have to send a large parcel which seems to be fraught with unexpected difficulties.

We tried Fed Express. Unfortunately the nearest office is in Almeria, an hour’s drive away, and the Spanish don’t see why they should travel all that distance just with one parcel, so they hang on to it in the hope they’ll get something else for this remote part of Spain, while telling me that for sure it will be with me this week. I wait in, sitting by the phone, ever hopeful. Days later we’re running out of food and milk, or climbing the walls with frustration. We ring them and they swear they’ve tried and failed to find us in, which we know is a lie. Why didn’t you ring and we’d meet you somewhere? I say. ‘But of course we rang, senora. You did not answer.’

Eventually I gave up with them and took my next manuscript to the post office in the nearest town and asked that it be sent the fastest possible way. Urgente is the Spanish word. The man behind the counter was appalled by the weight of it, and took great pains to explain how much such a transaction would cost. An arm and a leg at least. I kept insisting that was fine as it had to be in London by Friday. Unconvinced that this little English lady understood a word of what he’d said, he called upon the entire assembly of customers gathered in the Post Office to help him, found someone who could speak English and had them explain to me exactly what I was letting myself in for. I agreed, and accepted the terms. It must be there by Friday, I said. In five days. It would be, he assured me. It took three weeks. The next time I sent it by ordinary post and it was in London in 3 days.

Thank goodness for email. Now all my mss come down the line, including copy-editing scripts and proofs in a pdf document. God bless technology. I do so love being a writer, and it really doesn’t matter where you live!

Here's the latest, set before and during World War I when they didn't have the internet, and no doubt their post was delivered in 24 hours flat, that is if they got a letter at all from their loved ones out in the trenches. We should perhaps consider ourselves very fortunate.

Mary's Oscar Saga

2010-11-20T18:17:00.003Z

I found this article whilst researching Mary Pickford, whose stunning appearance was copied by young women of the 20's, including my own current writing heroine, Birdie Connor. Mary's Oscar controversy - you simply couldn't match the intrigue in fiction - continued long after her death.

"...the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences sued the heirs of actor Charles "Buddy" Rogers' second wife; the point of contention is Mary Pickford's best actress Oscar, the first for an actress in a talkie, which she won for the 1929 release Coquette.
The case is a bit complicated.
At the time she won her Oscar, Pickford, one of the Academy's founding members, was the wife of Douglas Fairbanks, living in the couple's fairy-tale mansion in Beverly Hills. After her un-fairy-tale-ish divorce from Fairbanks in the 1930s, Pickford married Buddy Rogers, whose film career was then in the doldrums. (Pickford herself retired from film acting in 1933.) They remained married until Pickford's death in 1979.
In the early 1950s, the Academy instituted a bylaw stipulating that Oscar winners would be able to sell their statuettes only after offering them back to the Academy for US$10. This bylaw was not retroactive, meaning that previous Oscar winners were free to sell their Oscars to the highest bidder. (According to a Seattle Times article, prices have ranged from $50,000 to $1.5 million.)
And here's the glitch:
At the 1976 Oscar ceremony, Pickford was given a special Oscar for her contributions to the art of motion pictures. When she accepted her honorary Oscar at her Beverly Hills home, the actress, then in her eighties, seemed not only quite frail but also a bit incoherent. According to the Academy, at that time Pickford signed an agreement stating that neither of her statuettes could ever be auctioned.
After Pickford died, Rogers remarried. Following Rogers' death, his widow inherited his belongings. The second wife died last January, and in her will she requested that Pickford's Oscar for Coquette be sold and proceeds (estimated by a family member to be around $500,000) be given to the Buddy Rogers Youth Symphony in Palm Springs, Calif., and to other charities dedicated to the welfare of young actors.
And the winner will be decided at the Los Angeles Superior Court.
Pickford's Oscar, by the way, was for what must have been one of the worst performances in the pioneer actress' distinguished career. Her shrill Southern belle in Coquette, in fact, may well be the very worst performance to result in an Academy Award win in the best actress category."

Kitty McKenzie

2010-11-13T10:17:00.000Z

Here is an excerpt of my Victorian historical, Kitty McKenzie, which is out in both ebook and print and available from Amazon.com and amazon.uk and The Book Depository which has free postage worldwide.

Blurb

1864 - Suddenly left as the head of the family, Kitty McKenzie must find her inner strength to keep her family together against the odds. Evicted from their resplendent home in the fashionable part of York after her parents’ deaths, Kitty must fight the legacy of bankruptcy and homelessness to secure a home for her and her siblings. Through sheer willpower and determination she grabs opportunities with both hands from working on a clothes and rag stall in the market to creating a teashop for the wealthy. Her road to happiness is fraught with obstacles of hardship and despair, but she refuses to let her dream of a better life for her family die. She soon learns that love and loyalty brings its own reward.

Excerpt.
Kitty caught her breath at the magnificence of Kingsley Manor. In comparison, her old home, although large, looked like a poor cousin. When they arrived, Benjamin’s parents were out visiting after Sunday morning church service. Alone, Benjamin gave her a private tour of the house. In each superbly decorated room, he stopped and kissed both her hands until it became a game and their laughter echoed throughout the house.
However, Kitty’s first impression of the beautiful Georgina Kingsley chilled her. The woman wore a frozen expression of horror on her face the moment she looked at Kitty. Distressed, Kitty lowered her gaze and fumbled with her black skirts. She wore the best clothes she owned, her black skirts and cream blouse, but her crinoline was bought from the market and her black lace gloves possessed the glassy shine of frequently washed clothing.
After introductions, Benjamin’s father, John, took Kitty’s hand and led her into the conservatory. A maid waited by a table laden with a silver tea service and silver stands filled with dainty little cakes and sandwiches.
“So, Miss McKenzie, Ben informs us you have started a business?”
“Indeed I have, Mr. Kingsley, tearooms.” Her lips thinned into a tight smile.
They were all aware of Georgina’s intake of breath.
“It is a rare thing, a young woman going into business by herself. It must have been quite a decision to make.” John Kingsley’s gaze didn’t waver as he looked at her.
“Upon my parents’ deaths we were left with vast debts that took everything we owned to pay off. For my siblings and myself to survive, I needed to acquire a living for us all.”
Georgina put down her teacup and saucer. Her cold, blue eyes narrowed. “Surely there are relatives who could have helped…your…er…situation?”
"I’m afraid we don’t have a large quantity of relatives. No one offered to help us. There was very little we could do, but sell everything.” Such intimate talk of her family unnerved her. She wished the conversation would turn to a much lighter subject.
“Did you not find that odd, your relatives turning away from you?”
“I hardly think that distant relatives, whom we rarely saw, should have to alter their lives to suit us.” Kitty hated the woman for making her defend the people who ignored her pleas for help.
“And how many are there of you, Miss McKenzie?” Georgina raised an eyebrow. She wore her disgust like a cloak.
“I’m the eldest of seven, Mrs. Kingsley.”
“My, my, so many of you. So, where do you live now?” Georgina flicked an imaginary speck of dust from her beautiful, gray, raw silk dress with its crinoline so wide they had to move the chairs to accommodate it.
"We are to live above the tearooms, Mrs. Kingsley.” She felt like a noose hung around her neck and with each look and question from Georgina Kingsley the knot tightened.
“How extraordinary. To live above one’s own shop.” Georgina didn’t hide the foul look she directed at her son.
He turned away to smile at Kitty. “Of course, it will only be temporary, until I return from the colony. Then we shall be married.”
Georgina paled and her hand shook as she reached for her teacup and saucer. Kitty wasn’t sure whether it was due to shock or anger.
John Kingsley stood and held out his arm for Kitty. “Come, Miss McKenzie, let me show you the gardens and my fine hunters. They are the best in York I assure you.”
When John and Kitty exited the conservatory, Ben stood abruptly and faced his mother. “How dare you,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his whole body rigid with anger.
Unperturbed, Georgina sat quietly drinking her tea. “How dare I?” she asked with laced sarcasm. “My dear, I don’t know what is troubling you.”
“Why must you behave in such a way? She is going to be your daughter-in-law. It wouldn’t have hurt too much for you to be kind to her and make her feel at ease. Instead of treating her like she was something a cat dragged in!” Ben’s chest heaved.
“She is not one of us, my dear. Your union would be a most drastic mistake.” Calmly, Georgina leaned over and selected a small tart from the cake stand.
“That is where you are wrong, Mother! She is one of us. Her father was a doctor, her mother a lady. They lived well and entertained many of the people you do.”
“No, my dear. They were never one of us, for we wouldn’t have let our children be thrown onto the streets upon our deaths.” Georgina contentedly nibbled her tart, secure in the knowledge of her own wisdom.
“Bankruptcy can touch anyone, Mother, even the Kingsleys.”
“Benjamin, you do realize I recall the McKenzies, especially the wife? I cannot recall her name, however.” Georgina’s wave was dismissive. “I was introduced to her some years ago at a party. And let me inform you, she was one of the most vulgar women I have yet to meet. She was loud and dreadfully flirtatious. She was attractive, I’ll acknowledge that, but she was no lady.”
“I don’t care a jot, Mother. It is Kitty, not her parents, who I shall be marrying.”
“Then you are a fool and you will be ruined because of it.” Georgina glared.

Find out about Anne's books on Amazon.Uk
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Anne-Whitfield/e/B002BLN8LY/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1289643315&sr=1-2-ent

The Unknown Warrior Is Home At Last

2010-11-04T20:57:00.002Z

The day we remember in the year that commemorates the sacrifices of members of the armed forces and of civilians during the wars, is November IIth. On this day 1918, all major hostilities ceased between the warring countries. It was the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, a date that the world never forgets. An irony, perhaps, that those wars still continue whilst we revere our dead. All my family were involved in both World War I and World War II. I'm a result of the troops returning home, one romance that had a happy ending. My first book, LIZZIE OF LANGLEY STREET, unsurprisingly therefore, tells of the aftermath of war and the struggles of one man's family to survive tragedy. So I'm more than happy that Simon&Schuster have decided to publish my seventh novel, EAST END ANGEL, set during World War II, in the East End of London, on Armistice Day. The eleventh of the eleventh, 2010. How cool is that? I spent over two years writing LIZZIE, taking the story from the very beginning and going into the lives of a war veteran who lost both his legs. I have a little note in front of me, which reminds me of the starting point of this very challenging story.

"Just before midday on November 10th, H.M.S. Verdun, with an escort of six destroyers, leaves Boulogne with the Unknown Warrior aboard. The destroyer Vendetta meets them half-way with its White Ensign astern at half-mast. A salute of 19 guns is fired from Dover Castle as the Verdun slips alongside Admiralty Pier in Dover Harbour. The entourage of servicemen and coffin board the train to London. One hundred sandbags of earth from France accompany them. King George V places a wreath on the gun carriage that takes the coffin from the Cenotaph to Westminster Abbey. The Unknown Warrior is decorated with wreaths. One of them is laurel from the ruined gardens of Ypres. All is silent in the Abbey, save for the gentle clink of spades, as the Unknown Hero is finally and fittingly, laid to rest."

Baby Love

2010-10-26T20:28:00.002+01:00

Just over a week until EAST END ANGEL is published in paperback. There have been online promotions and events, a number of book signings and a chance to speak to readers and enjoy their take on the Blitz. London’s Docklands, a prime target for the Luftwaffe, is the setting for my story. Co-incidentally, the Blitz is my grand-daughter’s history project at school. So we made a gasmask from a tea box and a long bootlace. It was fun to become an evacuee again. We copied the dress of the two small evacuees on the front illustration of my book and wrote out the identification tag. We were going to Cornwall, where a kindly family would take in the dirty-faced cockney urchins, whilst hoping that none of their own kids started to drop their “haitches” or developed nits. The tag line on the cover, under the title and beside a pic of a slender, gutsy looking 1940’s heroine says, “She’d do anything to protect the family she loves”. So why, asks my very perceptive eight-year-old, is she parting from her children? Good question. To give them a chance of survival, perhaps? To comply with the authorities? Or was it panic that swept up parents as the skies rained bombs? In this book, Pearl Jenkins fights tooth and nail to keep her baby. I just couldn’t evacuate the child - Pearl wouldn’t let me. When I told my grand-daughter this, I was given the thumbs-up. “I wouldn’t give my baby away,’ she said. ‘And I like Cornwall.’

Broken Hero by Anne Whitfield

2010-10-20T06:52:00.001+01:00

I thought I would post an excerpt of my World War II story, Broken Hero, since it's been a while.

Blurb
Audrey Pearson's life changed dramatically when WWII broke out and her large home, Twelve Pines on the East Yorkshire coast, became a convalescence home for wounded soldiers. Her life is no longer lavish with entertainment, beautiful clothes and surrounded by a loving family. Soldiers, physically and mentally wounded now fill her home. The smell of disinfectant replaces her mother's perfume and gone are the friends and acquaintances - instead nurses roam the hallways.
Captain Jake Harding, a doctor training in psychiatry arrives at Twelve Pines. Audrey immediately finds herself attracted to the Captain, but he is remote towards her. Puzzled by his cold behaviour, Audrey tries to learn more about the handsome Captain. He reveals that he's lost a wife and baby in childbirth and refuses to ever remarry.
However, despite this, Audrey believes she can change his mind and make him aware he doesn't have to spend his life alone.
The ice around Jake's heart begins to melt. For years he has rejected the possibility of finding love again because of the pain it caused him before, but the beautiful Audrey shows him her love and she needs someone to love her in return.
Could he honestly walk away from her, from the love that could be his?

Excerpt

Some inborn instinct told her that this man was for her—that she’d been waiting for him. She wouldn’t give up. He was worth fighting for. All it took was perseverance. She wouldn’t allow him to wallow in self-pity. He had to be shown that it was safe to love her, she wouldn’t leave him, and if he was too stubborn to acknowledge it then she would draw it out of him with some old-fashioned jealousy. She knew he was attracted to her, so now she had to use that to her advantage. All she had to do was play-act. Surely that wasn’t too hard now, was it?
Audrey reached for her straw hat and put her plan into action. “I think it’s time I showed these men how to play cricket. Who will be my partner?”
There was a roar of approval and then the men gulped their drinks down, ready to start another game.
Colonel Barnes picked up the other bat, his skin reddening. “I may be an old trout, but I’d be honoured to be at the other end, Miss Pearson.”
“Indeed, Colonel, I think that would be very suitable.” Since her father’s funeral she had noticed a change in the old colonel and Val had told her of his long talks with Jake, which had led to the colonel wanting to rejoin his regiment, if only to be used in the office or a similar position.
She picked up the cricket bat, and took her place in front of the stumps, waiting for the bowler to run in.
“You show them, Aud!” Lucy called from where she was fielding on the edge of the water.
Audrey grinned. The sun was hot, turning the sand to fire. She could feel the skin on her legs burning, but at least she tanned well. Today she wore navy shorts and a lemon short sleeved shirt. Her curls were wild about her head and she quickly tucked them under her hat.
From the corner of her eye she spotted Jake and Val chatting on the blanket and, as the bowler ran in, Audrey knew exactly where she’d hit the ball. Years of playing cricket with her father and brother made her good at the sport. She’d always been athletic, much to her mother’s dismay, and now she grinned as she whacked the ball hard, hooking it over to the blanket where it landed just inches from Jake’s feet.
Surprised, Valerie rose up on her knees. “Audrey, are you trying to kill one of us?”
“Sorry, Val!” She laughed and got into position again. For the next eight balls she hit every one in their direction. Valerie had run for cover, but Jake still sat on the blanket, slowly clapping each ball she hit.
“I say, how splendid!” The colonel took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his head and neck. “I don’t have to run at all.”
"Miss Pearson is too good for us.” Nielson chuckled as she hit another ball that sailed over his head.
“She should play for England!” Major Johnson winked at her and she winked back.
“Will you have a bowl, Captain Harding?” Price threw him the ball.
“No, I don’t think so.” Jake glanced at Audrey.
“Frightened I might hit you for six, Captain?” she teased.
He stood and juggled the ball from hand to hand, his gaze not leaving hers. “Not at all, Miss Pearson.”
Audrey swallowed, watching him walk to the bowlers mark. Her stomach twisted into knots at the challenge. After missing his first two balls, she realised he was very good at this game and was determined not to let her win this match between them. He had a steely look in his eyes, his expression grim.
She managed to hit his next delivery back over his head. Jake looked at her in surprise as the men whooped and clapped at the shot. “Run Colonel! Run!” she called.
“Someone get that ball,” Jake yelled, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. He glared at Audrey as she came to his end of the wicket.
“Don’t take pity on me simply because I’m a woman, Captain.” She grinned at him and turned to stand at the side. “I’m stronger than you know.”
The ball was thrown back to him and he caught it, pausing to examine the stitching. “I don’t doubt that for a moment, Miss Pearson.”
Inside, Audrey smiled. She was getting to him, unsettling his ordered life. She wasn’t someone he could dismiss without another thought. She wouldn’t let him.

Purchase Broken Hero from;

Amazon USA http://www.amazon.co.uk/Broken-Hero-Anne-Whitfield/dp/1601542267/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1279271138&sr=1-4

Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1601542267?tag=httpwwwannewc-21&camp=1406&creative=6394&linkCode=as1&creativeASIN=1601542267&adid=1T2NC357X5063J2N1CN7&

The Book Depository http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/book/9781601542267/Broken-Hero (free delivery world wide)

Angels at War

2010-10-09T16:57:00.000+01:00

My latest title, out this month in hardback, is the sequel to House of Angels, although the story will stand alone. Again this book is set in the Lake District, partly in the beautiful Kentmere Valley around the time of World War I, although it is such a quiet corner of England I doubt it has changed much since. The nearest village is Staveley, situated between Kendal and Windermere. Here is picture to tempt you to visit.

Two years have passed since Livia and her sisters suffered at the hands of their brutal father and Livia is set to marry the handsome and caring Jack Flint while her sisters are contentedly living at Todd Farm. Yet she dreams of bringing back to life the neglected drapery business which was left to her when her father died. But is she prepared to jeopardise the love she shares with Jack to achieve her wish?

Racked with guilt over the tragic death of her sister Maggie, she promises never to let anyone down again and to do something worthwhile with her life. But standing in her way is the wealthy and determined Matthew Grayson, who has been appointed to oversee the restoration of the business. His infuriating stubbornness clashes with Livia’s tenacity and the pair get off to a bad start. But as her problems with Jack worsen, Livia finds it increasingly difficult to resist his charms. Despite all the emotional turmoil, she is also resolute in her support for the Suffragette Movement which puts further strain on her relationship with Jack. With the extra pressures of her sisters’ problems, is it possible for Livia to regain control of her life?

Love letter of dreams

2010-10-03T18:19:00.002+01:00

It's now October and very soon will be my dad's birthday. I've written about him before, but last week Mum and I re-read some of his letters to her during his five years of war service. He knew a little French and often wrote romantic replies to Mum's fluent French notes. Dad wrote every chance he had though the fierce campaigns. One of the most amazing things about my parents' attitude to the enemy, even during the war, was their sympathy for and understanding of the German people. After the war we travelled extensively throughout the continent, but Germany was Dad's first love. He expresses it poignantly here with a description to Mum of his dreams.
"With the car - what type shall it be, Cheri? We shall travel! With God's blessing we shall once again indulge in simple pleasures of free people, unfettered by restrictions and partings and without mortal fear of the future. We shall have our own little maison with garden, somewhere in reach of country and town. We shall lay this car up for a couple of weeks in the summer for our holiday, starting with Switzerland. I regret we'll have to give Germany a chance to clear up before we visit, as we will at home. But I think it will be nice to spend just one more holiday touring the Black Forest, Munich and Berlin. Travel will be quite cheap when this is over. And though at the moment we all think rather rudely about certain countries, it will be altogether different after. It's very lovely to think about, Cheri. Bonne nuit, ma chere, je tu aime beaucoup. Sleep tight and chin up. Votre homme toujour, Bill."

PAPER DOLL

2010-09-29T23:00:00.005+01:00

PAPER DOLL by Janet Woods
Severn House UK
ISBN:9780727869708
October 28th 2010

In the early 1920s Julia Howard feels as though she’s the perfect daughter – the paper doll that was manufactured by her father in her image. She longs to dispense with her innocence. Her best friend's brother is chosen for the deed. Alas, he turns out to not the gentleman he projects, and invites a couple of his friends to the party.
The wealthy, but less than perfect businessman, Latham Miller, has other plans for Julia. He wants a perfect wife. He sees Julia in that role and manipulates the situation to suit his plans. Julia marries him to please her father and she lacks for nothing – as long as she dresses, and does, exactly how Latham tells her to.
But Julia is only human. Already acquainted with troubled war hero, Martin Lee-Trafford she turns to him for friendship and comfort, and the former attraction between them grows into a deep and abiding love. The inevitable happens, Julia gives birth to a son, and her paper doll image is torn apart.
Julia is then faced with a heart-wrenching decision. Can she leave with the man she loves, knowing she’ll have to abandon her beloved son – or should she stay?

WHERE ON EARTH . . . ?

2010-09-27T08:18:00.006+01:00

I've been looking through my previous novels while converting books to ebooks, and it’s brought home to me how very strongly place has influenced my writing. Born in the UK, I’m a ‘Lancashire lass’, but I’m also Australian now, so both places figure prominently in my books.

When I started writing, where did I set my first big novel? Lancashire, of course. I didn’t know then that I was writing a saga. I was just writing the sort of story I enjoyed reading. I’ve been writing sagas ever since.

At first all my stories were set in Lancashire, but after I emigrated to Australia I just had to write a story set there. I’m particularly interested in Western Australian history, because Sydney and especially the convict era in the Eastern States of Australia have been used rather often.

I began collecting historical ‘titbits’ years ago and am gradually working through them. One incident happened when the American Civil War stopped cotton supplies to Lancashire. This closed most of the mills, so a group of 60 unemployed cotton lasses was sent out to Western Australia as maids. That story seemed meant to be told, uniting both sides of my own and my writing background.

‘Farewell to Lancashire’ was born when I found a published diary which described the voyage which brought the cotton lasses to Western Australia. I added four more lasses to the group, but it’s the same ship, with the same events during the voyage.

Book 2 of the series is ‘Beyond the Sunset’ (my 50th novel published) which came out in July 2010 in hardback. In this, one sister is so homesick she has to return to England. That journey takes readers by a route of the 1860s that has been less used in fiction, via Galle, in what is now Sri Lanka, Suez (before the canal was built), rail to Alexandria and then sailing on to Gibraltar and Southampton.

Book 3 is ‘Destiny’s Path’ and tells the story of the remaining pair of sisters. It’s not published yet but is due out in March 2011.

But that story led me to a new place, because a minor character was so vivid, I’ve given him his own series – and that starts in a new place, Singapore in the 1860s. It was fascinating to research.

OTHER PLACES
I started writing modern novels at the same time as we began house swapping holidays from Australia to England. Naturally, this led to several different backgrounds for my modern stories, starting with Dorset, our first house swap. For a while we went all over the place, Cheshire, modern Lancashire, Ireland, Derbyshire, Wiltshire – and so did my stories. In fact, I’ve had a ball.

Using places you visit as settings for novels makes you learn far more about them than you would if you were just playing tourist. I hope this has given my readers a taste of a few new places, too.

My latest modern novel (Licence to Dream) is set in a small town in the state of Western Australia, which readers would probably never ‘visit’ otherwise. It was one of the earliest places settled in that state, but it is still a very small and charming country town.

I’ve even been around the universe when I was writing SF/F as Shannah Jay – those stories are now out as ebooks if you want to join me on a much longer trip to distant planets.

Do come and travel to my special places sometime.

Happy Birthday Agatha!

2010-09-15T18:18:00.001+01:00

This short paragraph is the beginning of a nostalgic blog on the BBC’s Agatha Christie page.
“I remember the year when Nima read us a chapter or two of A Pocket Full of Rye after dinner each night. It must have been 1953 and I can remember the game as if it were yesterday. All the family sitting round the drawing-room at Greenway, coffee cups empty on the tray, a little cigar smoke rising from my grandfather's cigar, mauve chintzy covers on the chairs and a piano in the corner of the room. Nima sat in a deep chair with a light directly above her and spectacles, a strange butterfly shape, were pushed slightly forward…”
Gorgeous, isn’t it? 120 years ago today, Agatha was born and yet today we still love to read her as her burgeoning sales figures show. She epitomizes all that makes us feel cosy, secure, grounded and optimistic, even though her crime novels contain more than their fair share of murder and mayhem. Tonight, it's out with the Cluedo, which somehow also makes me feel cosy and secure. During our family get-together, we’ll dress up barmily, one of the kids will be the detective and one the victim when we play Murder In the Dark. And then, after dinner, my husband will read from 4.50 from Paddington. I hope Agatha will tune in from wherever she is, for she has been a great mentor through her novels and scripts to so many of us. The youngest in the family have yet to sample her magic and I do envy them the discovery. For my generation she is timeless, ageless and priceless – so here’s to you Agatha, Happy Birthday, and long may they always continue.

2010-09-06T17:28:00.002+01:00

On the last day of August I went to prison, or at least the building which was built as the court house and prison for Dumfries in 1707. It is a tall building built from local red sandstone and it stands in the middle of the High Street, looking down on the fountain which commemorates the installation of a clean water supply to the town after a devastating outbreak of cholera. In the other direction it faces a statue of Robert Burns and the spire of the Grey Friars church - once a monastery where the Red Comym was killed after a disagreement with Robert the Bruce.

The listed building has been renovated and modernised inside and is now used by the Dumfries and Galloway Arts Association. I was invited to a "Meet the Author" evening to discuss the audio and paper back publications of A Home of Out Own. The evening went well with plenty of questions and readings by fellow author, Gill Stewart, from two of my books.

To ladder or no ladder?

2010-08-29T20:14:00.003+01:00

Well done on completion, Janet. That desirable oasis seems a long way off for me at the moment. You know how when you’re writing and it doesn’t feel right? Our characters are hard at it, steeped in poverty, hunger, degradation and unemployment. Yet something’s wrong. The foundation of our business is conflict; dig a deep deep hole and climb out of it somehow. But how easy it is, to skim up a ladder! My mum, 91, an East Ender,still lives contentedly in poverty in her mind, though she is more comfortable now, with none of the money worries she had when she and Dad left the Isle of Dogs for greener pastures. The other day we visited NEXT, as opposed to ASDA. It was like I was taking us into Hades. But Mum was seduced by a shiny black belt strapped to the waist of a slender window mannequin. A closer inspection of the price tag, said £9.99p. I turned heaven and earth to persuade her to buy it, or allow me to buy it, but I might as well have suggested robbing the cash machine outside. Old habits die hard and she explained to the very sweet and mystified assistant that on reflection, it would cost her nothing to cover her old, tired belt with petticoat material and elastic from her thermal knickers. Yet again this honesty inspired me to ditch that convenient ladder and use my fingernails instead.

Shining Through

2010-08-28T04:19:00.000+01:00

I’ve just finished writing LADY LIGHTFINGERS – a novel partly set in the slum area of 1850s London. In places it turned out to be a stark and gruelling book to write. There is nothing romantic about poverty, when each day must be endured in the battle to survive, and the future seems more of the same. My heroine is a resourceful, gutsy young woman who was able to survive her bad start to life, but grew up streetwise enough to avoid the traps that can beset the poverty stricken, to find happiness and shine through.

Writing stories that have a downbeat theme can be difficult if you don’t want to make your readers miserable and put them off side. There are several qualities a main character needs to stop her from being a sad sack.

The first is a strong sense of optimism, so she doesn’t wallow in a sea of self-pity every time something goes wrong. Secondly, a sense of humour is required. This can be ironic, wry or sarcastic, depending whether it’s being spoken or thought. A heroine should also be brave, and courageous enough to take risks when the chips are down. Even though it might go against the grain, she might decided to sell herself, or get away with crime, if the motivation is great enough. My heroine is tempted by both to help feed and shelter her family. I won’t say which one but the title might give you a clue!

One of the things I like most about saga writing is that the heroine usually rises above fairly humble beginnings, and, through personal sacrifice, endures. If she doesn’t succeed in gaining wealth, at least she’ll emerge from her trials a stronger, wiser person – one enriched by personal satisfaction and happiness.

Janet Woods

ebooks

2010-08-19T12:16:00.011+01:00

Preparing a book for ebooks was something of a learning curve. This involved a great deal of reading. First I studied the style guide on Smashwords, a company who supply Sony, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, mobi-pocket and others, which took some time. It was worth the effort though as it carefully explained how to produce a clean document for upload, essential if the formatting is to stay in place. Then came creating new covers in Photoshop, another learning curve but great fun. I would recommend anyone to have a go. If, like me, you’re still waiting to take possession of your Kindle, (I’ve been promised one for Christmas) you can download Kindle for PC free from Amazon. I put it on my netbook and a download appears in seconds and is very clear to read. Or you can get Adobe's Sony e-reader, which is also free.

The Bobbin Girls is one of my favourite historical sagas which I recently put up on Amazon Kindle and Smashwords and is doing rather well. It was a joy to revisit it for editing purposes, as I’d largely forgotten the story. It’s about a powerful young love blighted by a dark secret from the past which might, or might not, be true. I do remember that I loved doing the research as I found such marvellous people to interview. The late Bill Hogarth, who spent hours taking me through Grizedale Forest teaching me the tricks of his trade on coppicing, making hurdles and swill baskets. Stan Crabtree and Bill Grant also enlightened and entertained me on the skills of forestry.

Even the charcoal maker patiently explained his craft to me.

Most of all I loved the evening I spent with the ‘Bobbin Girls.’ Eileen Thompson, Joyce Wilson and Pat Hogarth not only regaled me with their yarns and the wonderful tricks they played on each other, but carefully described all that was involved in the making of bobbins, a skill I would not wish to try it, considering the hidden difficulties and dangers. I take my hat off to them. But this is a romance, so of course, there’s a happy ending.

Click here to download a free sample of The Bobbin Girls

Or click on my author page to find other ebook titles of mine.

Best of luck with your own self-publishing.
Freda

Brown Penny

2010-08-16T20:29:00.001+01:00

This week, my husband and I attended a beautiful service. Not held in church, but in Dorset woodland where the trees were the only canopy above. Luckily the rain had stopped, leaving the air as scented as incense. The couple, both in their sixties, had asked a few friends and family to be with them on renewal of their vows. Only this time, forty years after the first vows were said and blessed by a priest, these ones were re-created in the form of a poem by Yeats. Hippies now, rather than in the sixties, friends as much as lovers and no longer in chemical overdrive, save for perhaps paracetamol. The couple glowed a peaceful certainty that was once pure passion and the woods were where they had first found love, much like their parents before who were survivors of World War ll. As I’m in the middle of writing a wartime saga, this seemed the perfect time to reflect on the importance of romantic theme, holding plot and pace together. Having wrestled this way and that with my own winding, intricate way, I thought of my fellow writers and your windings and wrestlings and all the effort we put in to each tale. And I’m so proud to be part of us.
BROWN PENNY

I WHISPERED, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

Three minutes of Fame

2010-07-30T23:00:00.001+01:00

How is it that I can write novels one after the other, but as soon as a writing colleague asks for a donation of words to a blog, the mind becomes one great big blank? There are only so many things that can be said about writing, and I’m sure everything has been said many times over, so, I thought I’d tell you about something a little different for me, though still connected to writing.

The daily newspaper decided to do a spread on romance writing, and although I wasn’t part of the printed article, I was asked if they could do a tie-in video. It was great fun. After answering questions about myself, and giving my views on writerly matters, I was then asked to comment on my three most enjoyed books. I’ll name them, in case any of the authors look in. However good a writer you are, it’s always nice to know your work is appreciated.

First for me came Sharon Penman’s “Devil’s Brood.” To be fair, I was only allowed to pick one of her books, though I love all her big novels equally, and so does my husband. She’s my favourite author, and her books are on my keeper shelf waiting to be read again. This particular novel is the story of the betrayal of Henry 2nd by his three eldest sons and Eleanor, his wife.

My second choice was “How Green Was My Valley,” by Richard Llewellyn. It was first printed in 1939, so is a bit on the elderly side. But it hit me straight in the heart when I first read it, and the writing still stands up today. My earlier 1951 copy was borrowed, and was never returned. Luckily the book was reprinted again in 1991 with a different cover. It’s the only book I’ve ever bought twice, and it was made into a TV serial with Stanley Baker and Sian Phillips in the starring roles.

Third comes a debut novel by Helen Simonson, published this year and called “Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand.” The novel is an older-couple romance with family complications, and it’s set in an English village. The writing has a great deal of warmth and is sprinkled with wonderful metaphors. I’m sure we’ll hear from this author again.

So that was my input into the article. The three-hour interview was edited into my three minutes of fame on the web. Author at the computer––author talking about how she started writing, and author talking about her favourite “other author’s” books. Author at the computer again…fade out.

Funny, but there’s something familiar about that, as though it’s all been done before. Hmmm …

How To Sell More Books (kind-of!)

2010-07-28T22:27:00.004+01:00

It was lovely to receive a comment from Freda and Anne about THE BOOK PEOPLE. TBP came in useful when round at my daughter's this week. I was able to tell her friends of the many talented authors on this blog writing in the same genre, with books for sale on Amazon if not TBP. To my astonishment, some of the youngsters (30-40)didn't know what sagas were. They read, in the main, contemporary modern fiction. During the discussion my eight year old granddaughter, handing out cookies and freebies, pipes up, "I know what sagas are. They're books written by ladies who work in the night". (She is used to me writing in the evenings!) A few raised eyebrows and smirks here, but more author names bandied about and swiftly written into diaries!

A little off topic

2010-07-22T20:05:00.002+01:00

This is a little off-topic, but has anyone heard of J.A.Konrath? If you have then don't trouble to read on, as you'll have had a good giggle at this entertaining fellow. Konrath is a crime/thriller writer of the "old" style, but just look at his stats (below). They say long sagas/family dramas don't go so well as E books. I wouldn't know, as none of mine are in that format yet, but it gave me a good feeling to read this guy's admirable copy on both his website and blog. He's a loose cannon in publishing, going it alone, and has made good. The hairs on my neck stood up as I researched him, so I thought, even though this is a historical blog, I wanted to pass on a little of his writerly enthusiam and a chuckle too, if you go to his website and watch his entertaining Utube vid. This is what he has to say about himself on Amazon's Author Space. His website bio and blog http://www.jakonrath.com/bio.htm

"J.A. Konrath has written 19 novels and hundreds of short stories. His work has been published in over a dozen countries, and there are millions of copies of his fiction in print.

His blog, A Newbie's Guide to Publishing, has been named one of Writer's Digest Magazine's Best Web Sites.

In a 12 month period, he sold over 35,000 self-published ebooks on Amazon Kindle.

He's been featured in Writer's Digest, Forbes, Publisher's Weekly, Book Page, Entertainment Weekly, and The Huffington Post.

Konrath is known as the hardest working author in the business, having toured more than 1200 bookstores. He's done successful blog tours, sent over 7000 letters to libraries, and has been flown all across the country to speak on the topics of publishing, marketing, ebooks, and self-promotion."

2010-07-16T16:34:00.002+01:00

16th July 2010

I don't think my books can be regarded as historical these days, except perhaps to the very young, but they are definitely family dramas, as one of the group describes sagas.
My present "Home" series starts at the end of the war with Dreams of Home when a young couple struggle to get a foot on the farming ladder. It is followed by A Home of our Own, highlighting the problems of an ex-landgirl with an illegitimate child and the stigmas of the period to 1955. It was published in hard back in January 2010 and is available in trade paperback from August. They are all available on CD, recorded by Soundings.
The third in the series will be published in October 2010 and takes us to 1967. Heart of the Home follows the lives and responsibilities of two younger characters and how they cope after the death of a well loved mother. All the books in the series have a Scottish farm or country background.
I am presently working on a fourth book starting in 1972. The proposed title is Another Home - Another Love, but titles sometimes change. It will highlight the changing standards and problems between the different generations.

My 50th Novel

2010-07-15T10:41:00.005+01:00

This is a very special month for me because my 50th novel has just been published, ‘Beyond the Sunset’, set in the mid 1860s. I’m thrilled about this and have been cuddling my new and very special book baby at regular intervals every since I received my author’s copies.

My first novel published was special too, as it finalled in a big writing competition in Australia and won me a $10,000 prize and publication in 1992. ‘Persons of Rank’ is a historical romance, but is now out of print. However, it will be going up as an ebook at http://www.smashwords.com/ by the end of July, in case anyone wants to see how I started out as a writer. Another of my out of print historical romances ‘Mistress of Marymoor’ is already up there at: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18911

Back to my 50th novel . . . I never realised when I first started out that I’d be able to write so many stories in such a short time – 18 years - but perhaps the imagination is like a muscle and the more you use it, the stronger it grows. I’ve got loads of ideas noted down for further books, so watch out, readers of the world.

‘Beyond the Sunset’ is one of a series of linked stories about the Blake Sisters. They stand alone and can be read in any order. The first one was ‘Farewell to Lancashire’. You can read the first chapters of these books on my web site http://www.annajacobs.com/

They’re set mainly in Western Australia (WA), where I live. Many historical novels with an Australian background are set in Sydney and the convict era. Mine aren’t because I’m having great pleasure in exploring WA’s history.

I’d been dying to write these stories for years, ever since I read in a research book that during the 1860s Cotton Famine in Lancashire, when mills were closed because the American Civil War had cut off supplies of cotton, they brought 60 starving ‘cotton lasses’ out to WA to act as maids. I even found the diary of a clergyman’s wife who’d travelled on the same ship. It seemed meant to be.

In ‘Farewell to Lancashire’ I brought the four sisters out to Australia.

In ‘Beyond the Sunset’ I take the youngest, who is desperately homesick, back to England on urgent family business. There were no railways in WA in those days, unlike the UK, so she had to travel from the outback to a port by horse and cart. As ships didn’t leave the small ‘Cinderella’ colony every month, she had to rush to catch the ship, or she’d have had to wait two months for the next.

Once on board the ship, she went via Ceylon, Suez (before there was a canal to the Mediterranean), Alexandria and Gibraltar. It was fascinating researching all this.

And of course, romance blossomed on the journey!

Book three ‘Destiny’s Path’ comes out next year, and was equally interesting to write and research, but I’m not revealing any details yet!

If you see my 50th novel ‘Beyond the Sunset’ in a shop or on line, wish it well.

And now, I have this other story to write . . .

Cute Collection

2010-07-10T11:29:00.004+01:00

My long-time Ed left her desk last year and also the enterprising young lady who sold my books to THE BOOK PEOPLE. I had no idea of this deal until my agent sent me a photocopy reading, "Carol Rivers' gripping sagas are set in London's East End and chart the lives of six young women as they struggle to overcome the obstacles that destiny throws their way. Vividly evocative, these enthralling tales are painted against a backdrop of pre- and post-war London, weaving their intricate stories amongst colourful characters and richly drawn period detail. Perfect for fans of Josephine Cox and Meg Hutchinson, the East End Collection guarantees to keep you warmly entertained throughout the summer." The price of the collection of six books is just £7.99 - amazing! So if no one else buys my books I'm off to order a few sets myself, which is a giggle, but I can't buy the books cheaper and my first book LIZZIE OF LANGLEY STREET is not easily found new. Curious though, how things work out, as last week I was delighted on the one hand, that my new website was bringing in traffic but concerned for all the lovely readers who email for LIZZIE (having read the others) and want the whole series. Funny how one day a problem seems insurmountable and in the blink of an eye, astonishingly resolvable.

Harper Lee

2010-07-07T22:00:00.002+01:00

What a wonderful documentary I saw recently on Harper Lee, author of To Kill a Mockingbird. This reclusive writer wrote only the one book which was to become a classic and made into a film with Gregory Peck and I still have my early copy. I read To Kill a Mockingbird for the first time during my last year at school. Not that I realized its influence until sixty four years later, when the narrator of the doc explained that Harper’s story was hewn out of an extraordinary experience in small town America, reflective of the times, and bearing a great influence –her father, a legal man working in a small, tightly-knit community. It was then that Atticus Finch, Boo and Scout, suddenly leapt out at me as I watched, overlaid with the characters who have appeared in my own books. As each author knows, there is more to the conscious and unconscious than meets the eye. Boo, Scout and Atticus - I saw them clearly for the first time six decades later. What a revelation! And now I return to my writing with a deeper understanding of the characters. What writer hasn’t had this light-bulb moment? For me it came very late in life and I’m so grateful for the heart-racingly vivid memory of my pals John C, Ashley W, and my dad William T, the chicken wire cage of a fancy dress outfit, and a hot summer’s day with a puddle of lemonade inadvertently spilt over the cover of a very special book.

Writing and Football

2010-06-27T12:02:00.001+01:00

This morning, Sunday 27th June 2010, an air of tension hangs in the air, like Christmas, but with the sizzling sun baking the green fields and rolling hillsides of the British Isles, instead of the cold and frost. Today, Britain is breathless, waiting, hopeful, heady, hung-over, hungry for success, patriotic, for once palpitatingly in unison, and all because of a ball. A small, round object kicked between the feet of acrobats, slithering, sliding, bouncing, cavorted along the grass to that beckoning siren, called goal. Guarded by a single knight, this holy space is reserved on the one hand for the ultimate, exquisite joy, and on the other, absolute, intense, unbearable disappointment. And what better description could I give to the hour before writing, when words in the playing fields of the mind are winged, orbiting, chaotic, elusive, insistent, lifted into the esoteric by an unconscious that somehow, miraculously, herds them all into the goal mouth of the WIP. How desperate we writers are to score a winning paragraph or chapter, to illuminate the dark spaces that will burst with life from the stands in recognition of our success. My husband asked me why I’m so keen on the football. I couldn’t really think of one answer, and there wasn’t time for many, not with the preparations for this afternoon. But as I’m writing this, I think I can relate more than ever to this small tribe of warriors who represent our country. I’ve come a long way and I’ve got the scars to prove the tussles. Yet still I’m doing it - writing, that is. When I hear a kind word from a reader, just one, I feel I’m remembering what I knew before I was born, in the life before this one started. Purpose, fulfillment, joy. I wonder if our team feel the same, as they stride out onto the pitch, with all the greats accompanying them. Like Stanley Mathews, Tom Finney, Bobby Moore and another less well-known West Ham player, my dad, Bill Skeels. Good luck to you lads, may the Immortal Source be with you and let’s write another chapter, a triumphant one, for Britain.

Sagas and dramas

2010-06-04T21:18:00.002+01:00

Following on to Freda's absorbing blog on sagas, my editor has a preferred description now - I suppose to make the genre more appealing to new readers - "family dramas" now seems to fit the bill. I had the book jacket cover arrive of EAST END ANGEL and thought, yes, drama, saga, thriller, even a little bit of whodunnit, encapsulated in the picture, the heroine with her suitcase, amidst the 1941 bombing of London. ANGEL is a popular term now, so together with the two young children, refugee-like, making their way hand-in-hand through the destruction, I'd say Simon&Schuster have got it right on the button. So, here's to our brilliant marketeers who work so skillfully in the background, bringing our stories alive with their creative artwork. Whatever our genre is, it's wonderful to be part of the buzz and creativity that sprung from a teeny, weeny germ of an idea!

Is a saga romantic fiction?

2010-05-28T09:38:00.000+01:00

The Shorter Oxford Dictionary tells us that the word saga is Old Norse. ‘A narrative composition in prose which embodies the traditional history of Icelandic families.’ And ‘A mythical story which has been handed down by oral tradition.’

I love to use memories of a life now gone which people share with me. A saga is often a generational story, or one about relationships. Families lived close together in the past, often living in the same place for generations and forming close-knit communities. This is something we have perhaps lost in the modern world. Look at this picture of my mother as a young girl enjoying an afternoon out with her Aunt Sarah. Judging by the busy scene around them it's clearly taken in the late twenties, early thirties. They look so engrossed in their conversation, happy to be together. Yet her family was very poor with an invalid father who couldn't work, and a mother who was the family bread winner. What are they talking about, I wonder?

The dictionary also states that a saga can be ‘A story of heroic achievement or marvellous adventure.’ A sweeping tale of courage and bravery, good pitted against evil. Robin Hood, Star Wars, David against Goliath, as our hero battles against all odds to win. The saga’s we write are stories about ordinary people dealing with extraordinary events in their lives. Our main characters too must win through against all odds.
But can we class the saga as romantic fiction, or is it something different, a genre in its own right? Is it historical fiction? Or could it, perhaps, be a combination of both?

Catherine Cookson, considered one of the greatest saga writers of all time, certainly didn’t claim to be writing romance. Her novels are more often involved with cruelty, violence and savagery, the hypocrisy of religion, poverty, despair and of course her chief obsession, illegitimacy.

The ingredients of a saga might include:
Strong characters.
Multi-layered viewpoint
Fast paced plot
Class
The position of women.
Universal issues
Social and domestic history
Local industry and economics of the region
Strong emotions
A sense of place
A view of a wider world

Maybe we can look at some of these in later blogs.
Best wishes,
Freda

Just an excuse

2010-05-26T20:07:00.003+01:00

Writing historicals could just be an excuse to indulge in fantasy - it's often the case that when describing our heroine, we can drop the name of a look-a-like, for instance Veronica Lake. How gorgeous was she? Smooth, smart and absolutely self-confident about her looks. Consequently, my latest centre stage character, likes to think of herself as smart and confident, until I did the dig the biggest hole I can and push her in it. Tossing back her gold locks she has to find some way of negotiating her way back on top - until next time. Meanwhile, it's ok to trawl through the photo galleries and pick out of the ether a few more of those character traits. Perhaps underneath she isn't quite so confident, is slow to stay one step ahead of the threat and turns out one morning in her dressing gown and curlers! But to the man who loves her, she looks enchanting, just like the man in my own life, who brings me a cuppa and whispers, "Here's lookin' at you kid" bending to kiss my left ear, following up with "the deer have just scoffed all the pansies."

The movies prove it true

2010-05-21T21:14:00.002+01:00

A sultry summer evening in May with the maybugs bouncing against the window and not a breath of air. My keyboard should be icing over as I'm describing the freezing cold February of 1919, a year after the Great War, with Britain emerging from the nightmare of the battlefields. I’m amazed once again that my current story bears every similarity to the book I have just finished in 1946. It makes me realize just how much of an escape movies played in people's lives. From sizzling Alice Faye to blonde doppelganger Doris Day, Clark Gable to yes! Russell Crowe. From the sultry, challenging, stunning, Alli Nazimova to Katie Price, the resemblances are remarkable. Tying the past into the present isn't difficult; the moment we just lived is history! How fantastic it is to be able to look back in the comfort of home, bring to life the celebrities of the past and melt them into today. Nothing changes, yet everything changes - can't remember who said it, but the movies prove it true.

The 1920's Cup Final

2010-05-14T20:22:00.004+01:00

Reflecting back to the twenties; at about this time in 1926 preparations were ongoing for the first Cup Final at Wembley Stadium between Manchester City and Bolton Wanderers. Provisions included 50,000 bottles of beer, 1,500 bottles of whisky, 30 tons of minerals, 700lbs of tea, 25,000 ham rolls and meat pies, 12,000 packets of biscuits, 120,000 cigarettes, 10,000 boxes of matches and 2 van loads of chocolate. 400 catering staff were to be divided between 10 buffets. The restaurant seated 1000. 50 special trains ran from the L.M. and S Railway in the provinces. 22 from the Midlands. 19 from Manchester, Nottingham and Sheffield. Translated into today's requirements, it's merely a drop in the football ocean. My dad, a professional footballer for Walthamstow Ave, was paid £1 every Saturday in the late 20's. This was reckoned to be very good money. He broke more bones in his body than I care to count, whilst playing for his team. And transfers then were all about honour, which is why he stuck with his first, last and only team love, until he met another, my mum, who proved more alluring than any other WAG, lucky for me!

House of Angels

2010-05-14T08:52:00.005+01:00

The paperback of House of Angels is now out. They've brightened up the jacket, which really is quite stunning I think. I've also delivered the sequel Angels at War, which the editor loves. It's always a worry until you get some feedback. Now, in theory, I have some spare time on my hand. In practice I'm catching up on all those long neglected jobs on blogs and website. I've joined Facebook and Twitter, very time-consuming but really quite fun, allowing me to meet up with people I rarely see.

Here is a review of the hardback.
This is the first book by Freda Lightfoot I have read and, despite the fact that I am not a lover of sagas, I was engaged with the story from page one. She piles horror on horror – rape, torture, sexual humiliation, incest, suicide - but she keeps you reading! The story of the Angel sisters, the novel is set in the Lake District in 1908, the title referring to the high-class department store their father owns. A tyrant, he successfully marries off one of his legitimate daughters so he can gain a plot of land he wants to build on. When his illegitimate daughter comes to him for help after her mother has died, however, he has her taken to the workhouse as, far from being of use to him, she is a threat to his standing in the town. Another daughter defies him, refusing to give up the working-class man she loves, while his youngest remains at home, hating him but unable to escape. How each of these four women cope with the life their father has forced on them, makes for page-turning reading, and I am sure that this novel will become yet another bestseller for Lightfoot.
jay Dixon

I must now start planning the next saga. This takes time for me, and I hate putting anything down in writing until it's fairly well formed in my head. I was interested to see that Carol did a 30 page outline. That wouldn't work for me. If I wrote such a long synopsis I would lose the enthusiasm to actually write the book. The story has got to surprise me, as well as the reader, as far as possible anyway. Right now I'm flirting with ideas before deciding whether it will be a long-term relationship. My problem, as always, is too many ideas and so little time.
Best wishes
Freda

Web design and inspiration.

2010-05-09T16:23:00.002+01:00

It's a while since I've posted, but today has been inspiring, as I've been working with my web designer today and it's been great fun. He's building a new, very visual carolrivers website. I've selected three YouTube videos to give an idea of time and place. I've loved watching the amazing assortment of vids which express so well the 1920, 30's, 40's and 50's, the span of history that I enjoy writing about so much. Some of them are nostalgic, set to music and evoke the real old London. Especially the red buses and trams and Big Ben with wonky chimes from the turn of the 20th century. Others are contemporary and some tensely alluring. However, as music/narration really makes it all come alive for me, I've decided upon three real corkers, and I can't wait to see them in situ, after my wonderful designer has pressed all the right bells and whistles. Now it's back to the compie to work out a thirty page outline of the new book for my agent. The characters are beginning to form, their interior passions, fears and drives, melting into the dialogue. A nice cup of rosie lee and the time just flies…

Broken Hero excerpt

2010-04-20T23:16:00.000+01:00

Broken Hero is my historical romance set in England during World War II.

Blurb
Audrey Pearson’s life changed dramatically when WWII broke out and her large home, Twelve Pines on the East Yorkshire coast, became a convalescence home for wounded soldiers. Her life is no longer lavish with entertainment, beautiful clothes and surrounded by a loving family. Soldiers, physically and mentally wounded now fill her home. The smell of disinfectant replaces her mother’s perfume and gone are the friends and acquaintances - instead nurses roam the hallways.

Captain Jake Harding, a doctor training in psychiatry arrives at Twelve Pines. Audrey immediately finds herself attracted to the Captain, but he is remote towards her. Puzzled by his cold behaviour, Audrey tries to learn more about the handsome Captain. He reveals that he’s lost a wife and baby in childbirth and refuses to ever remarry. However, despite this, Audrey believes she can change his mind and make him aware he doesn’t have to spend his life alone.

The ice around Jake’s heart begins to melt. For years he has rejected the possibility of finding love again because of the pain it caused him before, but the beautiful Audrey shows him her love and she needs someone to love her in return.
Could he honestly walk away from her, from the love that could be his?

Excerpt

“Turn the music off, Lucy. You’re not doing this.”
Lucy gave her a defiant stare. “It’s all been arranged.”
"Then unarranged it!” Audrey stormed over to the wireless and switched it off.
“No, I shan’t.” A steely look came into Lucy’s eyes. “I want some fun. I’m sick of being surrounded by dreary people and this dreary war.”
“Don’t be so selfish,” Audrey snapped. “You’re not a child to demand a party when it suits you. I can’t believe you went behind my back to organise this.”
“You’re such a stick in the mud, that’s why. We can’t do this, we can’t do that!’ Lucy mimicked, hands on hips. “I’ve had enough of it. You’re not my mother and this is my house too.”
Val took a step forward and opened her mouth to speak, but at the same time the door opened again and the officers sauntered in talking and joking.
Lucy smiled at them. “Good, you’re all here. I’ve got a few girls coming from the village that I know, to even up the numbers.” She swivelled back to the table and switched the music on. “There’s plenty of drinks and food. We’ll have a wonderful night.”
“I’m going for a bath.” Audrey spun on her heel and left the room. In the hallway Valerie caught up with her.
“I’m sorry, Aud, I didn’t know.”
“It’s not your fault. Lucy is to blame. I cannot believe her behaviour. To be so sneaky. It’s not like her.”
There was a knock at the front door and Valerie went down the hall to open it. Three young men and two giggling teenage girls stood on the doorstep holding bottles of wine.
“How do!” One fellow crowed, his trilby hat low over his eyes and an arm around the girl next to him. He was good looking with a deep tan and flashed a bright smile. “We heard there was a party on tonight.”
They swarmed into the house, laughing and calling Lucy’s name as Valerie showed them to the dining room. She returned scowling. “I think they were drunk.”
“I don’t even know them.” Audrey mounted the stairs. “Lucy will get a tongue lashing in the morning.”
Val hesitated. “Shouldn’t we go and keep an eye on them?”
Conscious of her aches and another long day of working in the garden tomorrow, Audrey shook her head. “I need a bath and sleep. Lucy thinks she’s adult enough to handle it, so let her.”
“I guess the officers will keep an eye on things.” Val checked her watch. “Captain Harding will be home in a few hours.”
“Oh?” Audrey tried not to show interest, but she hadn’t known he was gone from the house. On purpose she rose early each day and stayed out in the grounds with Owen and Alf all day. Avoiding the Captain was becoming one of her talents.
“Yes, he went to Hull this morning. There is a doctor up from London who is holding a lecture on treating soldiers with problems of the mind. The Captain has been talking about it all week.”
Irrationally, Audrey felt shut out, and also jealous of Valerie. Captain Harding had been freely talking with Val, but he never did it with her. In fact, he went out of his way to avoid being in her presence. This week, she had tried to give him some of his own treatment. Only to find that it backfired on her, because she didn’t know his thoughts or what he talked about or where he was going. To shun him had left her in the dark even more than normal. She was a fool. She’d given him exactly what he wanted. But what was the alternative, more rejection?
Depressed, she went up a few more steps before Val caught her attention again. “Yes?”
A soft look of worry crossed Val’s face. “Don’t give up on him, Audrey. He’s a good man and worth the effort.”
“He’s not interested in me, Val. He doesn’t seek me out, doesn’t smile in my direction.”
“There are reasons, I’m sure. He’s suffered—”
“I know his past, his pain. I’ve tried to show him I understand, but he’s not willing to take a chance on love, on me.”
“Give him time.”
“I would, willingly, if he gave me a hint that time was all he needed.”
“Audrey, he’s one of those men who don’t wear their heart on their sleeve. He’s not going to show his feelings or even admit to them until he’s sure and even then he may not do anything about it.”
“So, in the mean time I’m meant to keep humiliating myself? Do you know how many times he’s rejected my friendship, my caring? I don’t know if I can keep putting myself through it, in fact I know I can’t keep doing it.” She smiled sadly down at her friend, tears blurring her vision. “I may have feelings for him, but I can’t make him feel for me.” With that she hurried up the staircase and into her room.

Available from Amazon.com and The Book Depository (free worldwide delivery)
http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/book/9781601542267/Broken-Hero

The Psychic Telegram

2010-03-30T21:44:00.000+01:00

Today the revisions have gone in to my publisher and it's a tense time. Will they fit or not? What more will have to be done? What will the copy editor discover and change? And finally, will it all come together as a readable page turner? Underlying this is the darker thought, the psyche-in-wait, the brooding, working, "expecting the telegram to arrive mechanism" for the next book. I've a vague idea, suggestions born from conversations, a story once told, a character that slipped in and out of a dream. Yet it all has to come in the mailbox of the mind - but WHEN? Soon, very soon, I hope...

Woodland Daughter in audio.

2010-03-30T04:00:00.003+01:00

My historical novel Woodland Daughter is now available in audio format such as Mp3 and cds and even cassettes. These can be ordered in by your local library. The reader is Anne Dover.

The audio book company's website which showcases is http://www.ulverscroft.com/ (you can do a search with my name, etc)
Sadly, I can't get the cover large with it distorting.

blurb;

Throughout her years of devoted service to the Bradburys, Eden Harris has hidden a secret that would affect them all, a secret shared only with her husband, Nathan and her grandfather. But an enemy returns, shattering her world and exposing her secret. Then, robbed of Nathan, she must flee from the country estate. However, her attempt to start anew is not so simple as the past haunts her. Now Eden must gather her strength and look into her heart to accept what the future offers.

A Day to Remember at the RNA Awards

2010-03-18T15:07:00.003Z

I arrived at the Royal Garden Hotel after crossing Hyde Park and missing the road works that dog the taxi army. The reception had already begun and the bubbly flowing. It was lovely to be able to put names to faces and as most of us rarely get the chance to talk shop, make the most of every moment before Lunch. The food was delicious, the planning perfect and Barry Norman a wonderful host speaker. He wasn't elaborate and understood writers and had a great sense of humour. Many thanks to the RNA for all their hard work in preparation and hopefully Katie is feeling better by now? Perhaps the worst time ever for a cold to strike!This next section comes from the RNA website.

Maeve Binchy was presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award in recognition of the joy she has given to millions of readers around the world. Her first novel, Light A Penny Candle, was published in 1982 and her books have sold an estimated 45 million copies in 39 countries worldwide.

Maeve Binchy was presented with her award in Ireland and sent a message via video to the lunch, saying, ‘I’ve always admired the Association because it’s managed to make us believe that stories are important and that we can get lost in the lives of other people.’

The Lifetime Achievement Award is the second award Joanna Trollope has received from the RNA having, thirty years ago, won the Romantic Novel of the Year Award for her novel Parson Harding’s Daughter (1980).

Joanna Trollope said: ‘I have such admiration and respect for the RNA, which must be one of the most professional and supportive of literary associations around, as all its aspiring writer members know, and of course, I was one of them, once…So my pleasure and gratitude are very heartfelt.’

RNA Chair Katie Fforde said,‘Maeve Binchy and Joanna Trollope are household names, national treasures and some of the best storytellers of the last 50 years. It was our pleasure and privilege to honour them with Lifetime Achievement Awards.’

The RNA’s main award, the Romantic Novel of the Year, was won by Lucy Dillon’s Lost Dogs and Lonely Hearts, published by Hodder & Stoughton. The perfect story for our nation of dog lovers, the novel focuses on the romantic sequence of events that occurs when abandoned strays are matched with new owners, whose lives become interwoven.

The Love Story of the Year, for a shorter romance with a strong emphasis on the developing central relationship, was won by Nell Dixon’s Animal Instincts, published by Little Black Dress. This is the second time Nell Dixon has received an award from the RNA, having won this award, then called the Romance Prize, in 2007 for her novel Marrying Max.

In honour of the 50th Anniversary, several new awards were introduced this year: The Romantic Film of the Year, The Romantic Comedy Award and The People’s Choice Award. In keeping with the RNA’s desire to help emerging authors, The Harry Bowling Prize for New Writing was included in the RNA ceremony for the first time.

Katie Fforde said, ‘The new awards introduced to celebrate the RNA’s 50th year not only showcase this fantastic, best-selling and popular genre but also provide a wonderful excuse for readers to get to know new writers across the diversity of themes and plots that comprise the romantic fiction genre.’
The Romantic Comedy Award, which recognises the book where love and laughter go hand in hand, was won by Jane Costello’s The Nearly-Weds, published by Simon & Schuster. The judges said the book was ‘a witty, at times laugh-out-loud romance, full of great characters.’

The RNA Romantic Film of the Year, celebrating the finest adaptation from a romantic novel to a film released in the UK during 2009, was selected by the public via www.lovereading.co.uk. The winner was An Education, by Lynn Barber, published by Penguin. The film was scripted by Nick Hornby.

The People’s Choice Award, a new award recognising key new or developing authors in the romantic genre, was also selected by the public via www.lovereading.co.uk. The winner was Missing You by Louise Douglas, published by Pan.

The Harry Bowling Prize for New Writing, sponsored by Headline, recognises writing promise and is given every two years to the best first chapter and synopsis submitted by an author who has not yet had an adult novel published. Runner up for the 2010 award was Sunrise by John Barfield, and the winner was Fear No Evil by Debbie Johnson, who the judges felt showed great comic potential.

The RNA’s 50th Anniversary is supported by an extensive, nationwide in-store promotion under the ‘2010 Pure Passion Awards’ banner, with shortlisted titles stickered with the official logo. Posters and official consumer magazines featuring all the shortlisted titles and authors in each category are available from bookshops and libraries throughout the UK.

Straw in The Wind

2010-03-06T22:58:00.001Z

Straw In The Wind- Janet Woods

Sequel books are often hard to write, and I don’t often write them. However, “Salting The Wound” deserved to have a sequel, because I knew that that the innocent baby who’d been the motivating factor for the conflict, didn’t deserve to die. In fact, this youngest girl of the trio of Honeyman sisters was clamouring for her story to be told. Luckily, I found the way open for the sequel. So this book is the stand-alone story of the survival of Serafina, and of her relationship with the man who finds her and entices her back into the family fold. Adam Chapman’s perseverance brings to fruition Serafina’s dreams of belonging, and in more ways than one.

Review bites for “Salting the Wound” can be found on Janet Woods’ website.
For full reviews click through to her blog.
http://janet-woods.com

Continuing theme and unconscious...

2010-03-02T17:19:00.002Z

With this mellow, sun-filled day, the promise of a true English Spring, it's not difficult to understand the old saying, "When a young man's fancy turns..." The Law of Attraction itself is a theme; all of nature sends out a vibration of awareness. A fancy can turn to love in a glance. A long standing friendship can assume a different quality, a love of many years can reflect on how that love has survived and in many cases, though we don't often hear so much of them, flourished. So, paradoxically, today's fine weather brought my current story's challenging themes into clearer perspective. What happens when two poor but happy families, some of the members united in love and marriage, are put under a colossal strain, in this case a direct result of the Great War? What happens to love under the stigma of disgrace and grief? When loyalties are tested to their utmost, what is the breaking point? And is war and love a dynamic duo, twinned, inseparable and inescapable?

Research and themes

2010-02-27T19:24:00.001Z

Freda's post gave me cause to review what my own themes will be as I leave my World War 2 saga, EAST END ANGEL, in the hands of Simon&Schuster, to be published later this year. Over the next few weeks I shall complete the revisions and "nip and tuck". When everyone is satisfied with the finished article, EAST END ANGEL will take on a publishing life of its own. Meanwhile, I'll be researching a new idea and two nights ago I had a dream of a group of 1920's women. They made such an impression that I've begun to formulate an idea. I know the characters will have been touched by that dreadful conflict of World War 1. My hero and heroine will certainly know the meaning of grief and deprivation. The island's small community was devastated by the loss of so many young men. But at the core of the story there will be a powerful love theme. Love is binding, war is separating and so many personal testimonies I've read ask a fundamental question. "Why do we keep having wars?" In no way does a writer set out to deliver his own truth. Instead he poses many questions through his or her characters. My grandfather was a casualty of war. Shell shock was common to the disabled veterans. I dealt with this in my first book LIZZIE OF LANGLEY STREET. Post traumatic stress, as we know it now, was the stage on which Lizzie's family's future played out. I have a feeling that with this new book I will be revisiting similar issues that still shadow the world in our contemporary and future conflicts.

Choosing a theme

2010-02-22T16:02:00.002Z

Catherine Cookson’s favourite themes were illegitimacy, upstarts and snobbery, rejection, love and hate, religion and superstition, mixed marriages and prejudice, purity and truth, the way people look at others, alienation and aloneness, education and trying to better yourself.

Today’s writers have expanded these themes to include any human condition you care to mention. E.g: Domestic violence. Rights of women. Murder. Gambling. Prostitution. Unemployment. Betrayal. You name it. The theme must be a strong one, a serious social issue or situation, life-changing, and characteristic of the period. For some reason, people seem better able to deal with these issues set back in the past. The distance creates a sense of security and nostalgia, from which they can consider the problems more safely.

In my own books I have used divorce (That’ll be the Day); discovering a lost identity (Fools Fall in Love) a mother’s sacrifice (The Girl from Poorhouse Lane); and overcoming the effects of a brutal father (House of Angels), to name but a few of the more recent ones. How much we, as writers, draw on our own experiences to write about these issues is a matter of personal choice. Catherine Cookson’s themes came out of the experiences of her own life and were written about with passion and conviction. Personal details can be changed, twisted, turned upside down and altered beyond recognition, but we, as writers, are always asking ourselves - What If?

My new book, coming out in April, isn't a saga but a novel set in 16th France. Hostage Queen .

The theme for this story must be the terrible consequences when you try to manipulate someone else's life.

Marguerite de Valois is the most beautiful woman in the French Court, and the subject of great scandal and intrigue. Her own brothers: the mad Charles IX and the bisexual Henri III, will stop at nothing to control her. Margot loves Henri of Guise but is married off to the Huguenot Henry of Navarre. By this means her mother Catherine de Medici hopes to bring peace to the realm.

But within days of the wedding the streets of Paris are awash with blood in the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew. Not only is her new husband’s life in danger, but her own too as her mother and brother hold them hostage in the Louvre. Can they ever hope to escape and keep their heads? In a court rife with murder, political intrigue, debauchery, jealousy and the hunger for power, it will not be an easy task.

Best wishes,
Freda Lightfoot

Romantic Novel of the Year Award 2010 Longlist

2009-12-15T20:52:00.001Z

Romantic Novel of the Year Award 2010 Longlist

I'm so happy to discover that a number of authors writing sagas are amongst the longlist for the Romantic Novel of the Year Award 2010.

The winner will be announced on Tuesday, March 16th 2010 and it's sure to be a glittering affair. To find out more visit

http://www.rna-uk.org

and enjoy the details of the long list;

The Very Thought of You Rosie Alison Alma Books
Passion Louise Bagshawe Headline Review
Beachcombing Maggie Dana Pan Macmillan
Fairytale of New York Miranda Dickinson Avon (Harper Collins)
Lost Dogs and Lonely Hearts Lucy Dillon Hodder & Stoughton
A Single to Rome Sarah Duncan Headline Review
A Mother's Hope Katie Flynn Arrow (Random Hse)
A Glimpse at Happiness Jean Fullerton Orion
10 Reasons Not to Fall in Love Linda Green Headline Review
Marriage and Other Games Veronica Henry Orion
The Glass Painter's Daughter Rachel Hore Simon & Schuster
It's the Little Things Erica James Orion
I Heart New York Lindsey Kelk Harper
The Heart of the Night Judith Lennox Headline Review
The Italian Matchmaker Santa Montefiore Hodder & Stoughton
The Summer House Mary Nichols Allison & Busby
One Thing Led to Another Katy Regan Harper
The Last Song Nicholas Sparks Little Brown (Sphere)
Last Christmas Julia Williams Avon (Harper Collins)
The Hidden Dance Susan Wooldridge Allison & Busby

Romantic Novel of the Year Award 2010 Longlist

2009-12-15T19:49:00.001Z

Congratulations to all the authors on the Longlist, saga writers amongst them!

The Very Thought of You Rosie Alison Alma Books
Passion Louise Bagshawe Headline Review
Beachcombing Maggie Dana Pan Macmillan
Fairytale of New York Miranda Dickinson Avon (Harper Collins)
Lost Dogs and Lonely Hearts Lucy Dillon Hodder & Stoughton
A Single to Rome Sarah Duncan Headline Review
A Mother's Hope Katie Flynn Arrow (Random Hse)
A Glimpse at Happiness Jean Fullerton Orion
10 Reasons Not to Fall in Love Linda Green Headline Review
Marriage and Other Games Veronica Henry Orion
The Glass Painter's Daughter Rachel Hore Simon & Schuster
It's the Little Things Erica James Orion
I Heart New York Lindsey Kelk Harper
The Heart of the Night Judith Lennox Headline Review
The Italian Matchmaker Santa Montefiore Hodder & Stoughton
The Summer House Mary Nichols Allison & Busby
One Thing Led to Another Katy Regan Harper
The Last Song Nicholas Sparks Little Brown (Sphere)
Last Christmas Julia Williams Avon (Harper Collins)
The Hidden Dance Susan Wooldridge Allison & Busby

GHOSTS

2009-12-12T21:00:00.001Z

Have just enjoyed an afternoon with my web designer, who has created a wonderful page on my website especially for Romantics. GHOST is my all time favourite movie, seconded by Casablanca. I now have two Utube teasers of these gems, a gorgeous love letter and dozens of very sensual books all leaping from the page. How lucky am I to have an equally hot techie to arrange them?

Austen the Original Saga Author?

2009-11-24T23:15:00.003Z

What is it about Jane Austen that she can write such great books which are still giving people pleasure nearly two hundred years later? She really is the queen of dare I say it, family sagas! :o)

When most readers think of sagas I feel they define them by Catherine Cookson type novels, I know I did for many years because that's virtually all I read. (total bliss)

However, after watching Emma Thompson's adaptation of Sense & Sensibility for the hundredth time, I realised that before the late great, Catherine Cookson, we had George Elliot and the like, and before that we had the wonderful Jane Austen.

Now who came before her?

Did she start the trend of family set novels? Is she the one who makes us want to read the pitfalls, the tragedies, the love and dreams of whole families? Most sagas have a central heroine, yet supporting that character is a host of others, who we learn about, and like or hate them, they end up becoming just as important as the heroine.

To me, that is the true mark of a family saga of any era or setting. It also reaffirms my love of the whole saga concept and it also teaches me something about my own reading tastes. I realised that I don't read a lot of books that are centered just on the heroine alone with perhaps a small focus on the hero.

Modern day authors of sagas are writing of the times a long way away from Austen's time, like the world wars for instance. Yet, the concept is still the same. The books follow the journey of the heroine and hero but also those family members and friends around them as they grow and learn.

Going through my personal library I've discovered that all my favourite fiction books, whether they are historical or contemporary, have plots that encompass more then just the heroine. I enjoy learning about the secondary characters.

Am I just nosy, wanting to know about everyone, or easily bored by one person?

Interesting....

Eve of the Isle

2009-11-06T21:42:00.002Z

"Eve of the Isle" is published later this month, a book that opens in the Great Flood. Young widow Eve Kumar and her twin sons are swept out of their home and into the arms of a young London constable. This is the opening - with the great green figure of Old Father Thames looming over the little family, ready to swallow them up, just as Eve's sailor husband was swallowed and never heard from again. Mystery, myth and magic float like the river's flotsum throughout the tale. I believe in all three and hope the island comes to life for my readers, lost in mist and the rising tide and the birth of a very tender new love.

Rivers return...

2009-10-18T19:18:00.004+01:00

On a windswept day in October I returned to the Isle of Dogs with my husband and family and travelled the same streets as my characters in the Rivers books. Danny and his costermonger's cart, Billy and his bare knuckle boxing, Lizzie in her bomb-damaged grocery shop, Rose and her Coronation TV set, fallen off the back of a post-war lorry. I saw them all, happy ghosts, under the shadow of the magnificent Canary Wharf building. I stood outside "our" old house, also in its shadow, but now regenerated into an investor's dream. We stopped at The Nelson for a bite to eat and walked the dog at the local park, flanked by the bridges of the Dockland Settlement. My Dad walked with me in his invisible celestial garb, but I know he was there, recalling the days of his youth almost a century ago. Mum was at home, unable to make the journey, or should it be, pilgrimage? A promo-day later, we were on the train and returning...always returning, if not physically then in mind and heart to the Source.

Is the Book Dead?

2009-10-17T12:38:00.002+01:00

Throughout September and October I’ve been engrossed writing the first part of my work in progress, which is a sequel to House of Angels.

You can read a review for this latest title on Bookbag: http://www.thebookbag.co.uk/reviews/index.php?title=House_of_Angels_by_Freda_Lightfoot

Sadly as a result of all this dedication, or perhaps obsession is a better word, things like blogs, newsletters, websites and dinner for my lovely David all get forgotten.

We did enjoy a few days break in London which was all very bookish. I attended a couple of meetings: one with the RNA where Freya North gave a fascinating and inspirational talk, and one with the Society of Authors where it was debated whether the book was dead. Fortunately it was decided that there was still life in the analogue, battery-free book. And why not? People still listen to radio, don’t they, so why shouldn’t they go on reading real paper books, and not just e-books? It’s seriously scary though that a college in Boston is selling off and giving away their collection of books from its library, apparently to save space, and turning entirely to digital. Do students no longer browse along the shelves, dipping into the delights a book might offer simply out of curiosity? Do they always know what they are looking for, and can they be certain of finding it online? And do they not realise that computers and e-readers are far more environmentally unfriendly than a book made from recycled paper? Read a printed book and save the planet. How’s that for a campaign? I love the feel, the smell of books, the sight of them stacked on my bookshelves, the promise of a pile of new ones by my bed waiting to reveal their secrets. Whether or not I am tempted to buy an e-reader, long may the book live.

Best wishes, Freda

Octavia by Beryl Kingston

2009-10-05T04:54:00.004+01:00

I haven't read a Beryl Kingston book for years, but I saw Octavia a few weeks ago and decided to buy it. I enjoyed it.

Blurb

Much is expected of Octavia Smith. Growing up a much-loved only child surrounded by family friends like George Bernard Shaw and William Morris, Octavia takes it as a matter of course that she will more than meet those expectations. Her childhood ambition is to change the world, but will the sometimes chaotic and often somber events of the early twentieth century allow her to?

During her university career, Octavia joins the Suffragettes, becoming passionately devoted to the ‘cause'. But will the arrival on the scene of the attractive Tommy Meriton give her passions another path to follow?

While the horrors of World War One and subsequent events threaten to tear apart her delicate network of friends and family, Octavia must choose how she make her mark on her time.

Salting The Wound

2009-09-10T23:58:00.002+01:00

SALTING THE WOUND has been released a month early, and is now available to purchase.

I’ve just finished writing its sequel, STRAW IN THE WIND. It was one of those books that was a struggle to write, despite the straightforward plot line of a search for a third sister, who’d been given away at birth. The problem was, I had a timeline trauma somewhere in the middle and lost track of seasons. One moment it was winter, the next moment the heroine was plucking a bouquet of summer flowers from the meadow.

Oh dear...it isn’t just a question of changing summer back to winter with this sort of mistake. There is a tendency to have to trawl back through the novel tweaking things into place. The heroine has to put on her winter undies and her shawl. You have to change the crops in the fields, close the windows against the cold and light the fires in the drawing room and bedrooms. As for the evening activities you’ve written in, the leisurely strolls and neighbourly visits, have to be shortened and encapsulated within the daylight hours as you move your whole cast of characters back into the winter mode.

It took me three fairly detailed edits before I got this sequel book right. Okay, it’s my own fault for not paying enough attention in the first place. But sometimes there is a tendency to be a jockey. Swept up by the heart-thumping moments of the steeplechase of the story and characters you just keep your horse hurdling over the fences to get the race over the finishing line - and without taking time to look at the scenery.

2009-09-09T18:16:00.002+01:00

My third Rivers novel CONNIE OF KETTLE STREET is inspired by one of my Dad's wartime adventures. Read now a COPY OF AN EXTRACT FROM THE DAILY TELEGRAPH
1943
DIVED IN SERVICE GAS MASKS TO REPAIR HOLE IN SHIP
BY TAFFRAIL
This is the rather unusual story of LCI (L) Landing Craft Infantry (Large) as recently told me by her Commanding Officer Lieutenant William T. Skeels, RNVR, of London who before the war worked with the Port of London Authority. The tale has never been made public.
An LCI (L) may be used for carrying troops from shore to shore for short voyages or alternatively for short journeys from a transporter to the shore. Since crossing the Atlantic, No.179 as she may be called for brevity in default of a name, has taken part in the original landing in Sicily and four other operations in Italy. She has had her fair share of excitement and danger in the way of enemy gunfire and bombing and like all the other landing craft out here, has done a sterling good job of work.
Lieutenant Skeels described the evening and night before the Sicilian landing as the worst he'd ever experienced from the point of view of weather. "We hung by our eyelids and many were miserably sick. It was worse by far than the long swell of the Atlantic."
HIT AMIDSHIPS
At 4.45.a.m. on the day of 179's great experience, dawn was beginning to break and objects on the hostile coast ahead were beginning to take shape. Filled with troops she was on her way ashore with a concourse of other craft. Soon after daylight shells from a coast defence battery were falling unpleasantly close. 179 beached herself and landed her troops, still under fire. Disembarkation was completed by 6.40.a.m. and the ship hauled off. Almost at once she was hit amidships on the port side of the waterline, the shell making a hole about three feet by two and a half feet. She tried to make water so was re-beached. The enemy battery had meanwhile been silenced by a destroyer; but not before the First Lieutenant and four ratings of 179 had been slightly wounded by shell splinters. It was surprising there were no more, as between twenty and thirty shells had fallen within twenty yards and the ship had been peppered all over by splinters…275 times - I saw a photograph.
Lieutenant Skeels then set about repairing his ship. As a temporary measure the large shell hole was filled with blankets, duffel coats and fenders, anything they could spare, beg, borrow or steal. It wasn't very satisfactory so they asked another ship to cut them a steel plate and having borrowed a drill tried to heel the ship over to get the hole out of the water. With his ship still on the beach that was found to be impossible. But extemporising a diving helmet for working under water out of a service gas mask, with air supplied by a hand foghorn like an exaggerated bellows, they managed to bolt on the plate somehow. It was while this work was in progress that they found the shell - unexploded - still inside the ship.

A THUNDERING GOOD JOB
"Then we hauled off and took her out for a trial," said Lieutenant Skeels. "It was quite successful; a good deal of water came in but it could be kept under by the pumps. However, to make quite certain, I went alongside a ship and they built us a cement cofferdam inside. Then we went to Malta who took a look at us, but said they'd plenty on their hands, that we would do for the time being and sent us on to Bizerta where we were finally repaired by an American repair ship. Those chaps made a thundering good job of it, welding on the big patch and the 275 small ones. The old ship looked like nothing on earth when they'd finished."
"I like the idea of your gas-mask diving helmet,' I said to Lieutenant Skeels. "Who thought of it?"
"I can't quite remember,' he replied, "but it worked."

A QUOTE FROM "NAVAL AWARDS" - LANDINGS IN SICILY AND ITALY
The King has approved the following award for gallant and distinguished service in the face of heavy opposition from the enemy for BAR and D.S.C to Lieutenant William Thomas Skeels…R.N.V.R.

Research - Land Girls

2009-09-08T13:37:00.009+01:00

I often interview people when I'm working on a book, and they readily find time to share their memories with me of the work they used to do whether in the mill or munitions, farming or forestry, war or peace. With The Land Girls on TV this week, I thought you might be interested to hear about Betty, who I interviewed, among others, for Gracie’s Sin.

Betty joined the Women's Timber Corps, which is a branch of the Land Army, because she was too young to join the WRNS. The girls were trained by foresters too old to fight, and were allowed only a matter of weeks to learn how to do the job. She recalls that her first task was to plant larch and Scots Pine, which had to be one spade length and one foot apart. Later she went into felling. She used calipers to measure the diameter and estimate the height, mark each tree to be felled with a white blaze, then take it down using a 5lb Ellwood Felling axe, or the crosscut saw. These were for pitprops. For loading logs on to the lorry they had a three legged crane with wires, which worked like a pulley. Betty would stand on the wagon and guide the logs on board, checking that they were stacked evenly and didn’t fall. She was only small, barely 5 foot, but learned the task through common sense and practice.

Betty helped to fell a stand of trees on the far side of Loweswater. There was oak along the edge of the water and larch above. She helped build a chute to send the felled trees into the lake so that they could be towed across by boat. These were probably for telegraph poles. The forester was in charge and Betty said you did as you were told or you were in trouble. The trees had to be lopped and topped, then peeled and all the knots taken off with a draw knife. Stripping the bark hurt your fingers, and it was sticky underneath, creamy with sap. A lot of swearing would go on.

Cheese sandwiches seemed to be the main fare to keep them all going. There were blisters, aching muscles and sun burn, and the skin of her hands became hard and calloused, stained by the bark. Her clothes would be crawling with small brown spiders.

Betty worked for most of the war in Grizedale Forest close to the German POW Camp, which was strictly for officers. The POWs used to march up and down the road for exercise. They’d make comments to the girls and the guard would shout at them, 'Eyes front.'

‘We are German Officers and if we say we will not escape, we will keep our word.’

There was a machine gun trained on them the whole time but, of course, escape attempts were common, particularly when they were out working in the forest. If they could reach the coast they could get to Ireland, but none succeeded. They would all be caught later on the fells in a sorry state. Trouble makers were taken up to London in a blacked out car for interrogation.

Betty remembers that she had to have a pass to walk through the camp gates to reach the forest to work. There was a sentry on guard who would say:
‘Halt, who goes there? Friend or Foe?’
‘Friend,’ she would say.
‘Advance friend to be recognised.’

So Betty would show her pass and be allowed through.

Gracie's sin, in my book of that name, was only to fall in love with a German officer, but it wasn't at all the right thing to do.

The Timber Jills, as they were fondly called, worked from eight till five and were rarely allowed a full weekend off, with four weeks a year leave. Betty sometimes got a lift to the station at Ulverston to go and see her mother who was a seven shilling widow. Betty earned twenty-eight shillings a week, less insurance. Fourteen shillings went on board and lodging at the camp and she sent her mother five shillings. She’d be left with about 5 bob, and think herself fortunate.

After the war she worked in 22 different counties in three years from 1947-49. Then stayed on with the Forestry Commission as a cartographer. She drew maps so well that they were often used for publication and she made a career of it. Her memories are happy ones and she can still wield a 5lb axe even though she is now in her eighties.

You can see Betty, first in the line of girls, pictured when she joined the Women's Timber Corps aged just 17.

Best wishes,

Freda