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.
Emanuel Andrei Cosutchi is a Sci-Fi and Fantasy author from Romania. Emanuel is another author I have ‘met’ through the blogosphere, and I am delighted to welcome him to Lost Blogs, to chat with us about his writing.
Edna Fowler is one of my favourite characters from An Honest Review, every inch of her reminds me of Patricia Routledge’s Hyacinth Bucket.
Edna is a member of DAWG, the Didsbrook Authors and Writers Group and is blessed with an unwavering self-belief that she is about to join the ranks of world-renown authors. She is convinced she is Didsbrook’s answer to J. K. Rowling, hence her rather suspect non-de-plume.
As the cogs start to turn and 2019 rolls into 2020, changes are afoot here at Lost Blogs. It will be a new chapter in the life of this pantser-style blog, as its creator evolves into the Plotter she always knew she should be.
The year is 1965 and, despite her own infidelity, Elizabeth divorces Fergus after exposing his love affair with fellow polo player, Thomas. Fergus and Thomas are made to feel outcasts amongst their friends and are banished from their homes, which makes it impossible for them to stay in the UK. Fergus hears about a remote, ailing vineyard inland from Guia in the Algarve, in need of a little renovation, and they leave the UK to start a new life together in Portugal.
After eighteen years apart, Lisa realises she is still in love with Jack, but after he misinterprets a fond farewell between Lisa and Rory, he flounces off home to NYC. This extract is the lead up to the agonising moment Jack realises he has got things horribly wrong. February 2000 Jack was Continue Reading
Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, I very recently ‘met’ the Canadian author, Gila Green, who is based in Israel. Since then, I’ve got to know her a little better, as she kindly agreed to be interviewed.
To date, Gila has written four novels, and her work has been shortlisted for many awards, which is no surprise. Her books focus on everyday people tackling immigration, racism, alienation, war, politics, romance, poverty, terrorism, and surviving. After I read those words, I was instantly drawn.
Gila was a joy to interview, honest, funny and an example to us all in terms of her gutsy determination to see her work in print. She finishes up the interview with a few of her top tips for us aspiring writers.
The year is 1963 and Lisa Grant is four-years-old. Her mother, Elizabeth, has hatched a plan with two families living down the road from to employ a governess to teach Lisa and the neighbours’ young daughters. I confess I am guilty of a case of writer’s revenge when I wrote this, Continue Reading
The reading of Arthur’s Will was expected to be straightforward and that he would dutifully leave his fortune to his grieving widow. A few minutes before her outburst, Lisa had been fighting to control her anger and Elizabeth, as usual, was the focus of her irritation. She’d arrived late, dressed like the Queen about to meet a head of state but, thankfully, not wearing a hat. She waited for the solicitor to pull up a chair for her and sat in wide-eyed anticipation waiting for the reading to start, whilst stifling the odd theatrical tear.
It is the 8th of October 1980, and it’s Lisa Grant’s twenty-first birthday. She has recently been reunited with her father, Fergus, who lays on a party for her at her favourite restaurant in Soho, Fanny’s Bistro. The tables are hastily rearranged to accommodate one uninvited guest, Lisa’s mother, Continue Reading
The Endeavour Morse infatuated DCI Humphrey Middleton arrives in the sleepy market town of Didsbrook to investigate the unexplained death of its highest-profile resident, Jocelyn Robertshaw. In this sequence, he looks over the crime scene, and the corpse, and we find out that, when Humphrey first meets a cadaver, he likes to engage in a little one-sided banter.
Christmas is coming and finding presents for the younger members of our families is at the forefront of our minds. Today, we have a great idea for the 8-12-year-olds in your lives, the recently published Billy’s Brain Booster Juice which, as the reviews will tell you is… a rip-roaring tale!! Perfect for 8-12-year-olds.
It gives me great pleasure to introduce you to Billy’s creator, the author Becci Murray from Gloucestershire. Becci has written sketches for children’s television, along with theatre plays for a children’s drama company and now, Billy’s Brain Booster Juice.
The first time he invited her back to his flat for a drink after a cocktail party to celebrate the New Year, she took advantage of his inebriated state. He flopped on to the sofa next to her, and she turned toward him, straddling his lap and pinning him down. Covering his mouth with hers, he felt he couldn’t breathe. Although way out of his comfort zone, being pounced on by an eighteen-year-old siren with the sexual appetite of a tigress, resistance was futile. If he had any doubts about the morality of his seduction, Elizabeth had no intention of giving him any time to think about it.
In the foggy waking moments of his hangover the following day, he dismissed what had happened between them for what it was, drunk sex. It would never happen again. He only had a few weeks left in London, and he would make sure he kept a low profile.
The year is 1958 and my main character, Lisa Grant, has not yet been born. I would like to introduce you to her charismatic young father, Fergus. On the brink adulthood, he is still enjoying his carefree life before he meets the force of nature that is Lisa’s mother, Elizabeth.
In June 2016 an idea for a book I’d been carrying around in my head for years, began clogging up my thought process. I needed to write it, a.s.a.p. and, as luck would have it… I was made redundant. So I threw myself into writing Just Say It.
After I started it, I realised I had little else apart from the main character and, after writing the first draft, she was beginning to sound alarmingly like me. The pantser-style first draft was nothing more than an autobiographical unburdening of my life to date, with a large dollop of post-redundancy frustration on top.
After a total overhaul of the original manuscript my MC, Lisa Grant, thankfully, took on a life of her own. It took me four and a half years to finish her story. The storyline often going off at tangents, which produced unrealistic MC goals and hours of frustrating rewrites.
My parents always celebrated Bonfire Night with much enthusiasm, and I’ve been terrified of fireworks all my life. So I can’t think they repeatedly kept the tradition going for my benefit, but I seem to remember enjoying the Parkin though.
I think we might have celebrated Halloween a boarding school but there are no memories of carving pumpkins ingrained in my mind. The dormitories were housed in a building first erected in the 16th Century. As with most creepy old houses, well-crafted stories of ghouls and ghosties roaming around the corridors at night probably put us off celebrating Halloween, as it might have felt a bit too close to home.
Lisa Grant is leaving the UK for good to live in The Algarve to work at father’s vineyard. Her car breaks down at Portsmouth where she bumps into old flame Rory who, fortunately for Lisa, is also headed for Portugal. Rory gallantly offers to drive Lisa there and they decide to take their time travelling through Spain and Portugal to do a bit of sightseeing.
DCI Humphrey Middleton has been brought in to investigate an unexplained death in the sleepy market town of Didsbrook. An in this sequence, he and Didsbrook’s own Sargeant Mackorkingdale, interview their first suspect.
I am grateful to Word Press for introducing me to Grammarly.
I have been resisting the temptation to buy it and download it onto my Mac, having successfully convinced myself that I would buy it as some sort of reward after I
a) Got shortlisted for a competition or
b) Found myself an agent
I’ve been stockpiling again, but not in anticipation of a no-deal Brexit, which may, or may not, happen in 10 days’ time. At 7.30p.m last night, a lorry load of our annual supply of perfectly dry logs was offloaded outside our garage.
We have been benefitting from this arrangement for about five years and have always taken a cavalier approach to the storing and stacking of the logs, which we always do as soon as the load arrives and involves a considerable amount of physical exertion.
Seduced by the rush of the incoming tide, I walk towards the shimmering haze where the cool Atlantic Ocean meets the sun-drenched shore. My pace quickens, the hot sand burns the soles of my feet.
The sun, high in the azure blue sky, heats my tanned and tingling skin as I walk slowly along the water’s edge. The powder puff clouds drift slowly by on the velvet breeze, its feathery touch fluttering against my face.
‘Lucy, dear, welcome to the fold, welcome to DADs! The part of Dorothy is indisputably yours!’
‘She’s a writer too, Joc. She’s won some prestigious competitions.’ I remember being mortified. How could my Mother tell a multi-published author that I’d won a few school writing competitions and make it sound like I’d won the Booker Prize?
‘If she writes anything like as well as she sings and acts, she’ll be a member of the Didsbrook’s Writer Group before she can say, Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore. Thank you, Lucy. We’ll see you at rehearsals on Monday eve. Right… time to crack on, who’s up for the part of the cowardly lion?’
They both laughed until they cried; as if cavorting naked was something they had been doing together for years. But the show wasn’t quite over. Lisa, sitting naked and cross-legged on the bed, began to read from her manuscript of They Always Look At The Mother First in her best pissed Foghorn-Leghorn-upper-crust voice.
In Jersey and Guernsey, we are only live a short hop from St. Malo and our Entente has been extremely Cordiale for years, thank you very much. Yet the repercussions of Brexit will affect us just as much as everybody domiciled in the UK mainland, not least when it comes supermarket shopping, as all our supplies are brought in by boat.