Showing posts with label Springbok Publications. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Springbok Publications. Show all posts

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

Blood Tide's new launch!


It’s finally out in print and I can’t believe how wonderful it feels.  After years of rewrites, making small changes, edits and feedback from some very amazing readers, it’s pure concentrated love in triangle paperback form. Springbok Publications, my publisher for the book, has also sent me to my first e-launch.  I had no idea what to expect and I was sweating for the three hours before it started.  However, once live, it was good fun and I had the chance to engage with my readers and potential readers for a few hours.

Something someone asked me on the night was, ‘what made you want to write about slavery in 1733?’ Valid question.  It was a very convoluted answer.  The primary reason was that I felt Black History Month became a bit boring for teenagers at school.  It seemed to be the same list of names, dates and atrocities and I had the distinct feeling they’d become num to it all.  I wanted to engage these young adults with a new tale – a fictional tale using the elements of historic slavery with a character they could follow (and was new to them).

Of course, there was also that amazing charcoal sketch of a Caribbean woman at my grandmother’s house which inspired Amber’s mother, Precious.  This is her story too, although most of it is about Amber fighting her way to freedom alongside her fellow captors.  And, of course, who could resist the urge to write about pirates?

There was only one successful revolting slave ship in history, and that was the Amistat. Slaves on the ship managed to escape the hold, take the ship and live for a short time as pirates.  With several historic points as inspiration, I wove a tale that (hopefully) tempts newcomers to history, leaving them wanting to research their own histories and learn more.

Blood Tide is available now on Amazon, but should, in just a few weeks, be available to order from Waterstones and most bookstores.  For a signed copy, visit www.springbokpublications.com.

Thursday, 20 March 2014

To Talliston we go!

Just a few more weeks until the Murder Mystery party at Talliston.  With a Roman theme, I've been busy making Roman jewellery and costume (Ignore the stripy shirt under my tunica lol).

It has been very long since my last blog, but to be fair, I've had to hold back in regards to what's going on with my writing.  And I've been busy with Seadrake Creations, my jewellery business (https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=676296549101105&id=376134102450686&aymt_tip=1#!/SeadrakeCreations)
which has been keeping my hands from typing (forming, soldering, hammering silver is pretty amazing and fun).

On to writing.  So much has changed.  Faeries will be on hold for a little longer as the publisher is still setting things up and making sure all legalities are in order.  It's going to be a good company, I can feel it, and I'm very excited for the new director and owner... it brings back memories of when Wyvern Publications was new. It also gives me some breathing space to finish my other projects because as soon as she takes on Faeries, I'll need to crack on with book two.

Blood Tide is still with Springbok Publications and I've just finished reviewing the e-proof.  I can't believe how much it's improved since the manuscript was left with them... I truly am blessed to have great indy publishers!!!  It will be released as soon as it's ready - I know myself how long these things can take and I'll post links to the book as soon as it's up.

My third publisher (really, three??? I'm either doing something very right or very wrong) has taken my last children's stories for the anthology and is reviewing the changes now.  It's been a boon having a dedicated children's e-publisher, and now these stories are going into their own dedicated anthology with an emphasis on my Cornish storyteller collection.  It will be out when it's out and I'll post those links too.

As for random anthology contributions, I think I'm finished with those.  I've lost count of the number of collections I'm part of and although I loved doing it, it takes time from my larger projects.

Write, write, write, make jewellery, prep the house, create the Tudor style garden, work on the putting together the natural looking playground, blog, argh, it's all a spin. Some big changes are about to take place and when I'm at liberty, I'll write about them.  But for now, it's all work and very little play.  Oh, and some good publishing :-)

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Inky Victorians

This is the photo that started my stories within the Isabella anthology.  At the end of this blog, I’ll add a bit of my work as a taster – the novel is due to be released within the year if all goes well, with Springbok Publications.
 
It’s been a funny old week.  Firstly, I must say that I’ve stepped back in time – no longer in my little spiral tower of inky doom where I normally do my time travelling by way of writing.  I mean really, truly, I walked into a place and was jetted back to the Victorian era.  I’m talking of course, of one of the magical rooms at the Talliston House and Gardens.  It’s the most magical place I’ve been to in a long time and I do believe I left half my soul in The Watchtower.  It’s my aim to go to the writer’s circle (now that I have my driver’s licence).
 
But a long and strange week has melded into another and the edits are at a slow pace.  My Three Women in Asylum is on halt and my Gothic Horror is my guilty pleasure, indulged in when the toddler is prepping for bed and husband allows me to sneak away up those stairs.
Now I’ve got to decide which works to bring to Talliston’s Writer’s Circle.  My fairytales book, Gothic horror novel, Three Women, or my children’s book… hmmm.

Friday, 7 June 2013

An Inky Edity Month


Hello all again!  It’s Friday – aka blog catch up day. 

So much has happened.  I’ve started by Seadrake blog: http://seadrakecreations.wordpress.com/ and be prepared – it’s dire. The situation, not the blog.  I’m very close to throwing in the towel, so the posts will be giving a true to life view of what it’s like starting a small jewellery company in an age where there is virtually no disposable income.  That said, I think it’s got potential to spin out a bittersweet ‘tried and failed, but hey, at least I tried’ book.

Books, that brings things home.  So many books to work on this year, why did I allow myself to get distracted with Seadrake in the first place?  Ah yes, I was after some sort of income for a stay-at-home mum.  So far, writing has been my real income for the last two years.  Yes, a very meagre income too, but I’m blessed to have been given the post of ‘staff writer’ for knowonder.com which brings in the bulk of my literary earnings.  I’ve sold about three copies of Blood Tide in three months and one copy of Faerie Conspiracies.  The tax man is going to give me that look again – you know, the one where disbelief and frown mingle?  The, ‘what are you smoking??’ expression that means, ‘creative endeavours have no place in this day and age, and will definitely not bring you enough income for me to tax you.’

With little to no sales for my novels this year, I’m not going to be thinking about income or even hoping about it.  Instead, I’m going to be editing the Isabella anthology for Springbok Publications, the small press that is also going to publish Three Victorian Women in Asylum, of which I’ve only written two chapters and seventeen pages of notes.  Due this autumn, I will be buckling down as soon as the Isabella book is edited.

And… I’m still writing for knowonder.  Suite 101 is on the out – they don’t pay anything anymore and seem to be lost at sea…  With the knowonder stories, I’m compiling my own anthology of faerie lore based on a mixture of Grimm’s tales retold and expanded for modern understanding (but still in a fairytale ‘ancient’ setting) and Cornish tales, along with my own slant on the basic fairy lore formula.  It’s going to be pretty thick, and have illustrations throughout.  In two years, when it’s ready, I’ll publish it hardback, paperback and e-book and it’s the hardback copy I’ll be loving the most as fairy lore should be hardback, folio and ready to pass down the ages.

 I’m probably just repeating myself – so I’ll just add one of the fairy stories I’ll be putting in the book J

 

The Willow and the Whispering Woods


Deep in the woods in a land far across the ocean grew a huge willow tree. The people in the village just outside the woods knew it was a magical place but were too freighted to go there and told their children to stay away.

But of course, some children would sneak out to the tree anyway…

 “You’re not going into those woods, you’re too scared. And… you’re a… you know, a GIRL,” said one of the village boys to Tanya.

 Once again, she bristled, ready to shout back. But she couldn’t. She was holding her baby sister in her arms and didn’t want to make her cry. “I’ll go to the woods,” she whispered in the most menacing voice she could muster, “and I’ll bring back a piece of the tree to prove it.”

 “Yeah, right,” another boy said. They seemed to all be ganging up on her now. The other village children smelled a fight and started wandering towards them, their knees showing through tattered skirts and trousers.

 They all started jeering at her and calling her ‘coward’ until she furrowed up her brow and said, “I’m going right now, let’s see which one of you is brave enough to follow!”

 Her little sister Rose woke up and started crying, but as Tanya walked towards the woods, the baby fell back asleep in her arms. The dust kicked up at her heels, but she didn’t look back. She knew they wouldn’t follow and she was confident they’d never tease her again if she brought back a twig from the wood.

 Soon she was at the edge of her village and the road which was once well looked after and smooth, now became broken with potholes and weeds. Eventually, it disappeared under long grasses and elder trees. The air became cooler and she held Rose closer to her shoulder. “Not long now, and then we can go home for some lunch.” It was only partial truth as there was enough milk for Rose, but only a few berries for Tanya. Her mother was working hard to keep the food coming in, but times were hard since their father was sent to march with the Royal Army.

 The trees started to get closer and darker the further in they went, but Tanya wanted to see the ancient willow tree that held everyone in fascination. “Just one look and then, if I’m lucky, a fallen branch,” she whispered. But not seconds before she’d finished, the woods whispered back, “if you’re lucky, you’ll meet the lady of the tree and satisfied forevermore you’ll be.”

 Tanya clutched just a little tighter to Rose and slowed her pace. But she didn’t turn back. If anything, she was now more curious. The wood became even denser, but instead of having twigs and branches claw at her heels, they seemed to peel back away from her as if letting her pass. Soon, she could see a mound of earth, topped with the biggest willow tree she’d ever seen. Its branches opened up to the sky and its trunk was wider than both her arms stretched out. Its roots were half out of the ground and twisted round small boulders, spiralling up and around themselves. “Wow,” said Tanya. “Rose, look up – it’s the willow tree of legend. And we’re standing under its beautiful boughs.”

 Just then the birds stopped singing and a low wind rustled the leaves towards them. A soft, gentle whispering, almost like musical chimes rose up around them in the leaves. “Then welcome here my little friends, now come in peace and do defend, the reasons why you’ve come to me, I lift my boughs now you shall see…”

 The wind dropped and the two lowest branches of the willow tree lifted like welcoming arms; below, a gnarled root stairway twisted down. “Enter, if you dare,” came the whispering voice.

 Not wanting to put Rose in danger, Tanya left her wrapped safely between two roots of the tree and went below. Inside was glorious. The roots rose up around her to form the ceiling of a fairy palace. “Welcome,” said a tall woman with long flowing robes, “I am the spirit of the Willow. You may ask me one question or request one gift.”

 Tanya, previously brave, now felt shy. “I… I just need something to prove I’ve been to the woods,” she said in a meek voice.

 The lady laughed. “Would you not prefer a feast?” She waved her hand and a table filled with delicious-looking fruits and roasted vegetables appeared.

 Tanya was tempted, but she shook her head. “I must get back to my sister and go home,” she said. “But your offer is very kind.”

 The lady smiled. “You are very polite. Let me gift you this,” she said, holding out a wand made of the tree itself. “It will protect you in time of need.” Then, she and the room vanished and Tanya found herself outside the tree with Rose in her arms as if the last ten minutes had never happened. But in her left hand was clutched a willow wand. She pulled Rose in closer and noticed that she too had been given a gift by the lady of the tree: a small star no bigger than a pinpoint was on the baby’s forehead.

 Tanya left the wood in a daze and when she made it back to the village, the other children looked at her warily – partly with respect and just a hint of suspicion. Nobody went to the Whispering Woods.

 Odd hushed whispers spread around her and when she went to her home, she saw her mother with her head in her hands.

 “Tanya, I’m so sorry. I cannot pay the rent on the house and I cannot feed you. I have to go find work elsewhere and old Myssa has said she will look after you if you work for her.” At that, her mother broke into heavy sobs and wouldn’t be consoled.

 Once again pulling the sleeping Rose tightly to her shoulder, Tanya now knew life would indeed be different. That night, Tanya was taken to Myssa’s home on the edge of the village. There was a splintered cot for Rose and just a thin blanket with no bed for Tanya on the front room floor next to the fire.

 “You can start by scrubbing the floors,” said Myssa, “and then collect firewood from outside.”

 Tanya worked hard for Myssa, but both she and Rose were given food and milk – enough to live from. But Rose was cold and unhappy and cried too much for Myssa. So, one day when Rose was crying louder and longer than normal, Tanya was asked to bring a huge pot from the stables.

 “What’s that for?” asked Tanya. Myssa had never cooked enough food to need such a large cauldron.

 “Your sister is a menace and we don’t need the extra mouth. You work too hard looking after her when you should be looking after me.” Although she didn’t tell Tanya exactly what the pot was for, Tanya was filled with fear for her sister.

 So, when Myssa was out gathering herbs and berries from the edge of the wood, Tanya wrapped up her little sister, took her willow wand and escaped from the old witch’s house.

 “Stay quiet, little one, or I think we may be done for,” whispered Tanya to Rose. But Rose just smiled up at her, and for a moment, it looked like the star on her forehead started to glow.

 Just then Tanya heard Myssa stomping furiously through the house. “I know you’ve run off and taken our evening meal with you! I’m coming to get you both!”

 She burst through the back door and before she could see Tanya, Tanya whispered, “If only we could look like two stones…” In a heartbeat, Tanya and Rose turned from being human children into a large standing stone and a small boulder. Myssa didn’t recognise them and hunted the area until it was dark.

 When the first star shone down on the stones, the girls changed back into their normal forms but it was too dark to travel and so they curled up together in the barn and waited for morning.

 At dawn, Tanya and Rose were woken by the sound of Myssa’s angry voice. “I’m coming to get you now, I’ve found your footprints! You won’t escape this time.”

 “Please,” whispered Tanya, “let us be like mice in the hay.” Instantly, the two girls were once again changed. And again, Myssa didn’t recognise them.

 When she was gone, they changed back. “Come Rose, now we really must flee to the woods…” But as they left the stables, Myssa caught sight of them and chased after.

 Tanya’s legs were not as long as Myssa’s but she was younger and fear made her fast. She ran with Rose in her arms, jumped over roots and ducked under brambles, until there was a little distance between them and the witch. “Please,” she whispered again, “let us be like two rich princesses that the witch won’t recognise.” And with that, the two girls turned into finely dressed princesses with a white horse to guide them and a royal escort to follow behind.

 Tanya smiled and looked down at Rose. No longer wrapped in tattered old blankets, Rose now had silks and ribbons with pearls on her cap and a silver bell on her wrist. She giggled when she looked back at Tanya. “Now,” she said in a bold voice to the escort behind her, “there is an old witch following us who means us harm. Please take her away so we’ll be safe.”

 The escort nodded and in seconds, Tanya heard Myssa’s voice pleading for forgiveness. “What shall I do with her exactly?” asked the escort with a slight smile. For just a brief moment, Tanya was reminded of the lady of the willow tree.

 “Put her to work at the castle’s gardens,” Tanya said, surprising herself. “She may not like children, but she can still tend her plants well. Just don’t let her cook anything.” Tanya remembered with a shudder the large cauldron meant for Rose.

 Just then, a soft breeze from deep within the Whispering Woods carried to them light musical laughter, “Well chosen, my darlings…” As the Royal Escort left with Myssa, the two girls changed back to their own selves.

 Tanya sighed. She wished she could have stayed in the silk dress for longer. It would certainly pay the rent on her mother’s house. But not a moment after she’d made the wish in her head, Rose’s giggling laugh made her look down in surprise. Both girls were once again dressed in finery and there was a weighty purse dangling on her arm where there once was a wand. Tanya noticed that Rose’s little star was glowing brightly.

 Hunger made her go back to the village and buy bread and cakes from the bakery, but nobody recognised her when she entered. She pulled out a gold coin and handed it to one of the boys who hadn’t called her a coward the other day. “Find the woman known at Sasha and tell her she can move back into her house.” For Sasha was the name of her mother.

 Then she found the landlord in the tavern. “I wish to purchase the property formerly rented by Sasha,” she said in a serious tone.

 The landlord put his tankard of ale down and glanced over to her. His face changed from annoyance to wonder and he quickly stood up and bowed. “Y… yes, of course my lady, anything you wish!”

 Tanya smiled kindly and handed him three coins. “There, this will more than cover such a hovel. Now, can you please tell the builder to fix the roof and adorn it for a royal visit.” She gave him another coin and left with a smile on her face.

 By the time her mother returned to the village and her old home, the house looked like a small palace. Tanya, Rose and their mother lived comfortably there for many years and every spring, Tanya and Rose would go into the Whispering Woods and lay a wreath of roses for the lady of the willow tree as a thank you.

 

Thursday, 30 May 2013

Inky Drakey Plans


 (Oyster Fayre 2012)
 
All’s quiet on the Wyvern for sale front (if I’ve not yet mentioned, Wyvern Publications might have a buyer, but we’ll see how it turns out – I’m very excited about it! It means authors will have a chance to have their work back on the market and Wyvern itself still going).  Which suits me fine at the moment because it’s all about Seadrake in two days.  I never had a chance to finish the two brass leaf brooches – there were too many other things to do and my knuckles were aching in the cold, damp workshop (someday, after a lottery win, I can have the workshop insulated and have proper double glazing).  Today I’ve got to finish painting my Seadrake Creations banner for the Oyster Fayre.  I’m on plot A6, which is a big move up from last year and exactly the opposite far end of where I was before.  It’s going to be so much fun regardless of the weather.

 


Sales, however, will suffer if it rains… which brings me to the question I’ve been nagging myself over.  Is it all worth it?  This is the beginning of year 3 for Seadrake and I’ve struggled with it (as most new businesses will).  The difference is that I don’t really know if it’s worth the struggle anymore.  Goodness knows I’m not charging enough for my time or even enough to cover basic tools let alone PLI and pitch rentals.  There has been a renaissance in hand made traditional crafts but nobody outside London wants to (or can afford to) pay for the time and money it takes to produce something handmade and beautiful.  Something whacked out of the factory in the third world can give a similar effect for a fraction of the cost.  Let’s face it, we’ve all been belt pinching which is what brought on the handmade revolution in the first place.

 


And curse this whole issue of needing sleep and getting tired.  WHY can’t I get up at 5am all chipper and work and play with my toddler, get dinner on, bake fresh bread every Friday, grow fresh flowers and veg in the back, juggle Wyvern Publications, tackle the hedge, write two non-fiction books and one novel, keep a jewellery business going and still have time to write the blog without falling asleep or feeling like a zombie?  Okay, I get up at 7… but if I could, I’d wake up fresh at 5.  Can I pull the teen thing and say, “it’s not fair”?  It really isn’t.  My body can’t keep up with all these life plans I’ve got.  I’ll do the usual of working like mad, getting ill then having everything fall to a standstill for three months.  I know many people who struggle to get up in the morning just to face the day, so I am being greedy with wanting to do more.  Sorry peops, I’ll stop griping.

 

I do need to streamline again.  The allotment (you remember, the thing that was going to be my priority this year after family?) is on my axe list.  Every time I get on top of it, something happens to set me back months and not just the weather.  It’s time to move on and use the backyard as my growing space.  It will be after the season finishes, so I can harvest the last of the berries and rescue all my berry bushes and the shed and tools, water butts and composter.  The rest can stay there for next year’s grower. Shed BTW is going to be toddler’s own outside playhouse.  I’ll paint it up brilliantly for her.  The front is going to have a mini bridge over water plants (not real water plants, but plants that I feel represent water) and she’ll have her very own mini garden in front of her house to tend.  It will take some time (like, a year) but it will be good and I won’t have to worry about… well the things that have been helping me make the decision about dropping the allotment.


Now to bring on the Oyster Fayre and then I’ll only do Seadrake work for special orders for the next month as I’ve got to hammer out the draft of Three Victorian Women in Asylum and edit the Isabella anthology for Springbok Publications.  Forget the fact that I spent yesterday writing three new business plans.  Maybe I should just relax for a bit…

Sunday, 17 February 2013

 Seadrake pure silver and moonstone ring
 
 
 
I miss the chickens.  I miss their morning clucking, the sound they made when they were laying, the boasting that happened afterwards and the crooning when they found their favourite patch of grass in the sun.  I also miss their eggs.  Each chicken laid differently – at different times of the day, yes, but they also had very distinctive eggs too.  Poppy’s eggs were renown for having light yellow yolks, thin membranes and HUUUUGGGE shells.  Ruby’s were medium, had darker yolks, Speckled Gemima’s were small, spreckled and firm.  They were ideal for poaching, whereas Poppy and Ruby’s eggs were best fried. 
 
Someday I’ll get chickens again.  I certainly don’t miss de-icing their water every morning in the winter, or finding red mites in the summer (evil things).  The darkest part of hen keeping is when they get ill.  Commercial hens have been bred to produce eggs at a high rate – an unnaturally high rate.  It takes its toll on them and their life span is lucky to be three years.  I know some keepers who’ve got chickens that last 20 years and up, but this is not the norm… those are superchicks!  The cost of feed has also hit the roof, making hen keeping more of an expensive hobby rather than a slice of the good life.  That, has got to be all this rain that keeps threatening crops…
 
Which brings me to the allotment.  I’ve got my seeds ready, the ground is prepped… it’s time soon to start work.  Just as soon as this cold weather lets up and this heavy drench peters out.  Icy swamps are not good for growing!
 
And despite having promised life a slowed down pace… I ended up sending a mass of submissions out and am getting acceptances!  It’s amazing and I’m so excited, but it also means more work and manic writing.  I’ve re-started my non-fiction writing as it’s nice to have a trickle of income (even though the per-hour rate is about 10cents an hour).  But it’s nice to have a reconnection with other writers and post interviews of their successes. 
 
So on to my accepted submissions… Firstly, I’m working on and with an amazing charity anthology for Springbok Publications – the new small press that will be highlighting the plight of the African Black Rhino and all proceeds will go to that charity.  I’ll have a teen fiction slant on my story (I’ll also be submitting a poem) which brings me to the fact that I’ve had a lightning moment and I KNOW MY GENRE.  I’m a teen fiction writer (hear my friends say, ‘duh!’) although I do also write for children (and the child at heart).  No more horror, no more steampunk attempts, no more random submissions for women’s magazines.  It’s all about children’s and YA fiction with a slant on the edgy and dark side.
 
Okay, okay, I’m rambling again.  Back to accepted submissions.  My non-fiction Three Victorian Women in Asylum is also being taken on by Springbok and I’m going to do my darnedest to help promote it by writing a series of articles and sending them out to (don’t groan) women’s magazines (so, I may not be writing fiction for them, but a good article is different ;)  I still have to finish the draft and pay for the photos of the women (in archive at the moment) but I expect to have it ready by October this year (not the release date, but the date I send it to my publisher).
 
Next on the list (whew! getting tired already and there is still much more to cover) which is I’ve had my stories accepted with provision to bookstogonow.com which is a fabulous small press that helped my friend and fellow writer Tim Reed reach bestselling proportions.  As they no longer publish individual short stories, I’ve sent them a collection of teen dark fiction – two have been previously published so they might want fresh new ones and I don’t want to chuck my ‘wrong genre’ unpublished stories in with the goodies I sent them earlier.  So we’ll see.  The real up note on this is that I think they’ll be interested in Downtrodden, my latest teen (well 15+ due to some graphic scenes – I’ve posted snippits of this book on previous blogs) fantasy novel.
 
Did I say I missed the chickens?  I could use their calming company.  Aside from all the writing tasks I’ve given myself, I also am developing a line of wedding and engagement rings for Seadrake Creations.  I’ll start them from cast silver and have prices up for gold and platinum if people would prefer one metal over the other.  Then, and here is the exciting bit… customers can choose their stone so they know exactly what they’re getting (unless they want me to pick one out – oooh like a dark, dark ocean blue brilliant cut sapphire… drool).
 
I’ve found that working with my hands keeps my head from spinning new stories and is the most relaxing thing around.  That, and going to craft fairs is a wonderful day out which involves being computer free.  Bliss.
 
Well, I think that right about wraps things up.  I’ve got my suite101 articles going again, but I may jump ship to helium as suite is yet again changing things and is very vague about whether writers will be getting any money at all for their work.  Ah well, at least I got a few goodinterviews in ;)
 
ttfn!