As 2019 draws to a close, is been a year rejections for Just Say It, my pantser-style first attempt at a novel. But I am, older, tougher and wiser now; I can take criticism on the chin (crying emoji!). So, I will say goodbye to 2019 feeding off the constructive criticism and positive feedback I've received during the year.
Just Say It is my first novel, which I 'finished' in June 2019 and, I've been editing it ever since! It is the first and last time I write a novel pantser-style; I will never throw myself into writing a book again without much-advanced planning. I still have faith in Lisa Grant and her dysfunctional family, and in 2020 I hope to convince an agent that her story is a viable one. In the meantime, I'll leave you with few members of the cast.
The last two weeks of my life are a blur. Flickering in my mind like a black and white cine film. I am running. Travelling at night under the cloak of darkness. Slithering out of the United States, escaping from the injustice thrust upon me.
Elizabeth was born in her grandparent’s cottage on the Ditton Hall Estate owned by Viscount Rutherford. Her mother, Gertrude, was the eldest daughter of Walter Clemmens, Rutherford’s gamekeeper and her father, Edward Campbell, was Rutherford’s son. Poles apart on the social scale, but bound together by a love so strong nothing could tear them apart.
Now what? No doubt Johnson, having been officially elected by the populate, will get stuck in a.s.a.p and start to address pressing matters such as the underfunded NHS and the 14 million people living in poverty. Just like his predecessors at Number 10 have been doing since May 2010. Oh, but wait, how could I forget, Johnson's priority, of course, is Brexit.
I don't seem to have found my 2019 Christmas spirit yet. Rushing out to buy a Christmas tree hasn't been at the forefront of my mind, as in previous years. Bringing home a Nordmann fir and decorating it in front of a roaring fire while enjoying a glass or two of mulled wine, has always... Continue Reading →
8th October 1959 The day a young Margaret Thatcher first became an MP for Finchley, Elizabeth's waters finally broke in front of the Aga in the kitchen. She was way over her due date, and Anna had rung a few times during the proceeding weeks, asking if she was okay and offering to chat about... Continue Reading →
Earlier this year, I met Gemma Dupont, who is a part of my Word Press blogging family, as well as a fellow aspiring author. Enthusiastic, bright and bubbly; her motto has always been… caring is sharing. Gemma very recently finished writing her memoir, Perpetual Helix, all bar one final, professional edit. She is so close, yet so far away from achieving her dream to see it in print. This week, Gemma has received a truly devastating diagnosis. Stage 4 lung and brain cancer. Gemma urgently needs an editor who would be willing to get the manuscript to the stage where Gemma can, at least, self-publish, as a legacy for her partner and her children.