Three-and-a-half years ago, I had a lot to get of my chest. A series of bad events responsible for clouding my horizon. With the summer months stretched out in front of me, I did what I have always done in times of trouble, I reached for my keyboard and poured my heart out.
I've learned by experience that one misconstrued adjective about a leading politician, even in jest, leads to the loss of hundreds of Social Media followers. And where would we be without our Social Media friends? As Brexit looms, hard or soft, who knows? It is very tempting to let rip about how I feel about the UK leaving the EU. I live in Jersey, Channel Islands, our rock nestles off the coast of mighty France. So close you can almost smell the freshly baked croissants. If I shout, bon matin tout le monde from our north coast, I can expect to hear a rallying cry of bonjour mon ami echoing back across the 14 mile stretch of La Manche (English Channel) that separates us. Jersey may not be politically entwined with the UK, but I feel we are bracing ourselves for less of the bon accord we have so enjoyed for many years.
After three and a half years of my life and 92,000 words, I'm not going to allow my novel to wallow in the slushy stigma of rejection and, whatever it takes, I'm going to make it grabbable. I've known about the Two Minute Grab Zone for quite some time and it's time I got to grips with it.
With all the upbeat bravado that goes into celebrating a New Year, it has been a sobering experience for me to start 2019 with a rejection. I am viewing the first rejection of 2019 as a part of my character building process. I haven't died, I will live to write another day. My determination, as well as desire to master the craft is stronger than it ever was and I'm on the way to developing a skin with the rigidity of an armadillo. So, that's all good.
Elizabeth had never been to see Coln Castle, the boarding school for young ladies in Gloucestershire, but they always advertised in Country Lifestyle and that was good enough for her. Country Lifestyle was the bastion of rural English literature for the husky-wearing brigade, which often featured articles by Lady Prunella Plumpton. Such was their reputation, which meant they would never publish advertisements about any dodgy educational establishments, so Elizabeth had enrolled Lisa five years previously.
If at any stage Arthur thought that a much younger wife would look after him, he was wrong, as Elizabeth employed a live-in carer before they left the registry office. Elizabeth had no scruples when it came to getting what she wanted and she reeled in Arthur for exactly the same reason she had trapped Fergus, his bank balance; another loveless marriage to satisfy her financial craving.
'Piglet?' ‘Yes, Pooh.’ ‘I’m off to catch a trout for your supper from the stream in the Hundred Acre Wood.’ ‘I’ll look forward to eating it. Bye, Pooh… I love you.’ ‘Love you more, Piglet.’ He waved goodbye, blew her a kiss then drove away.
Gloucestershire - 1964 One hot summer’s day, the windows of Lisa’s nursery, which also doubled up as a classroom, were flung wide open and the smell of the dusty heat flooded through the window, along with a whiff of karma.