I’ve got great hopes for 2020 and a new decade. A lot happened to me in the last decade and a lot of it was tough to get through so I’m hoping for an easier time ahead. Well, I can wish!
The good parts of the last decade were the writing successes – completing three novels and starting a fourth, winning the Elizabeth Goudge award at the RNA conference, talking to people who enjoy reading and making such good author friends from all over the world. An additional three grandchildren to join the family and a little dog to run on the beach with me were blessings to enjoy.
The bad parts of the decade were cancer treatment and surgery twice within three years, fractured pelvis, two hip replacements and carpal tunnel surgery. Amazingly, I’m still alive and kicking and I’ll be happy to avoid further work even if offered a face lift for free!
To start thIs new decade, himself and myself will be moving half a mile and will be even nearer that beautiful coastline that you can see at the top of the page. A beach walk with Oscar is great for sorting out tricky characters and their tangled lives. After three months of renting, the move to our dream home next week will be extra sweet.
This pit village below is typical of a Northumbrian mining community in the 1940s The mining took place right in the middle of farmland and countryside
This photo brings me to my book news – I’m really excited about it! I’m writing a family saga in two parts and I’m halfway through the second part. My aim is to get it completed by summer and publish them both later in the year.
The photos below tell more about the setting.
I’ve been house hunting and it has really brought home to me how much some buildings have a real ‘air’ or ‘atmosphere’ about them.
Atmosphere. It’s not something you can tick off your list like a garage or measure like a garden but, forget the missing tiles or jungle of weeds, I think the ‘feel’ of a home is THE most important thing to consider before moving in.
I love to read a book where the home is part of the setting and atmosphere of the story. At the moment, I’m on holiday and I’m reading ‘The Family Upstairs’ by Lisa Jewell. I haven’t finished yet but the old house that Libby has inherited really adds atmosphere to this compelling tale.
My latest novel, ‘The Barn of Buried Dreams’ is set in a converted barn full of happy family memories but dreams have been buried there along with a lot of real life and emotional clutter until Erin and Heather turn their lives around. I love that barn set in the Northumbrian village of Dunleith! What a pity it isn’t up for sale!
I admire how the cover designer transferred these pics into the barn on the cover.
My house hunt has meant renting for a couple of months and there is a cosy, warm, happy feeling place we have found but it’s temporary with only our basic possessions around so it feels like ‘playing house’. I’m really looking forward to putting down roots in our new home in the New Year.
We have found a gem of a bungalow close to the sea that is large enough to have the family and has a study with French doors that open onto the small garden at the back. A large family dining kitchen was a must and an en suite was a bonus but the study and the peaceful atmosphere are what sold it to me. (I must add that the shed and plenty of off road parking sold it to Himself.)
We all have different priorities don’t we? My dream house won’t be yours and thank goodness for our differences. I wonder what would be on your wish list….shed or study?
I used to be a daydreamer and did not like planning too far ahead. As Robbie Burns said – “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
Why waste time planning? I was happy to go with the flow of life and see where it took me.
This approach served me quite well because I had a successful career in education and was happy with my laid back life.
A turning point came when this daydreamer came to earth with a thud. Cancer doesn’t care about whether you’re a drifting dreamer or a planner and when I found out I had to live with cancer and its treatments my dreams were crushed.
There was a lot I wanted to do and, most of all, I wanted to write but I might not have the time.
Along with the discomfort of chemotherapy, surgery and radiotherapy, I found my planning mojo. I had to plan to make the most of good days and prepare for the bad. As the treatment progressed relentlessly, running through my mind was the hope that I’d get as well as I could. Until then, I’d plan my novels and map out that writing journey I wanted to make.
A goal without a plan is just a wish.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Dreams and wishes were given a backbone by my plans. When I felt better, I’d learn the craft of novel writing, I’d learn to use social media and I’d learn about the publishing world. My plan was to be a published author and I’d succeed by taking steady steps to make a life long dream come true.
“It takes as much energy to wish as it does to plan.” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt
I can’t argue with Mrs R because I found this was true. My dreams had shape and, by planning, I made time for them.
“Planning is bringing the future into the present so that you can do something about it now.” ~ Alan Lakein
(Time management guru)
Friends often comment on how I’m less laid back nowadays and my time management is better. Once you face the truth that time can run out on you when you’re not expecting it, it’s easy to plan. So what if Robbie Burns is right and a few go awry? I’ve found that some of them will hit the spot.
Today, I’m a published author of the two novels you can see below, I use social media to keep in touch with readers and other writers and I plan to keep on writing for a long time to come.
Pinch me! July was such a fantastic writing month. The month just kept on getting better and there wasn’t a single grey writing cloud to spoil it. How often does that happen?
I was away for two weekends so I’ve been too busy playing catch up to write and reflect on it all until now.
First of all, we had The Romantic Novelists’ Conference in Lancaster.
This was a weekend of interesting talks, meeting old friends and making new and the joy of kitchen parties where everyone talked about books and writing and the joy (OK and struggle) of writing.
I particularly enjoyed Jo Baker’s talk on revisiting the past. She has written an alternative story about Austen’s Pride and Prejudice characters, ‘Longbourne’. Her talk caught my interest because my third book is set in the past and, at the moment, I’m enjoying novels set in other eras.
I went along to see my friend, Lynda Stacey, in action on the ‘Dangerous Romance’ panel. Lynda was one of four writers who blend romance with suspense and the panel talked about how and why they did it. Not one of them was the same so it made for an interesting discussion. I’ve written about this session in detail for ‘Romance Matters’ so, if you’re in the RNA, look out for it in the Autumn edition.
The next weekend was Harrogate Crime Festival.
I don’t write crime but I’m an avid reader so, as a fan and as a friend of some crime writers, I tagged along and had my first taste of their annual highlight. A murder mystery dinner at Mel Sherrat’s table with my pals Lynda Stacey and Rachel Dove and a charming pair from an accountancy who were sponsoring one of the events made this an unforgettable night of fun, detectiving and laughs.
James Patterson stopped writing (was it his millionth book?) to open Saturday’s events and he was entertaining. I listened to talks and discussions involving Jo Nesbo and Lisa Jewell, two of my favourites, chatted to Rachel Abbott, a really successful self publisher, and so many others but I don’t want to be a name dropper!
I returned from both conferences with new friends, new links to publishing and new ideas so, as you can imagine, it has been a busy old time since then.
Come August, I didrecharge my batteries in France with the family. My cousin followed her dream and bought a fabulous place in St Estephe so we are all ‘obliged’ to do our bit and visit at least once a year to see what they are growing and enjoy the lakes and countryside around there.
I’ve appreciated this sunny spell of life because I’ve had my share of storm clouds and I’m always looking for them coming over the horizon.
How was your summer? All highs like mine or a few lows too?
One of the best things about being a writer is meeting real readers and gaining a few of them for my own books.
How do I do that? By accepting a speaking engagement where there will be readers and connecting with them.
I‘ve found that, if readers like you and the sound of your book, they are generous in their time and with their money and they buy a book or take a leaflet and download it on their kindle afterwards.
I’ve given a couple of talks recently about my writing journey -the tale of how a miner’s daughter eventually became an author. After the talk, I’ve read extracts from my books, answered questions and had the joy of connecting with future readers.
One thing I’m still waiting for but it is early days and, when it happens, I’ll sing from the rooftops (well, in my head anyway) is the day that someone comes along and they have already read one of my books. Imagine that!
Writers, like many people, keep going on dreams, don’t they? What’s your best thing about your job?
Billions of internet users are out there. Just beyond those rocks.
What I’m wondering is, who else, besides me, reads writers’ blogs?
To be more exact who reads myblog?
I’d love to know more about my readers. Do you like my daily life gossip? Do you wish I’d stick to book news? Do you look at my reviews page? Do you want to send your own photo of you with my book to my ‘rogues gallery of readers’? If I sent out a quarterly newsletter, i could ask such things every now and then and find out.
A CALL TO ACTION!
If you do read this, could you, just this once, write a comment in the reply box below? just ‘READ IT’ will do.
( Or, if you just hate to write comments a quick explanation of why this is such a chore for you.)
I want to start a quarterly newsletter
-one that gives readers a heads up to when I have special offers on Amazon, spills the latest news and that has a giveaway every issue. I’d like an email list for this but I think the best way to do this is to have a button on my home page that states
‘SIGN HERE for quarterlynewsletter’
That will give you blog readers a choice. You can sign up or not and I won’t use info you’ve given just because you want to reply to my blog. What do you think of that option?
I love getting photos like this sent to me. isn’t that a fabulous reading corner? Thank you to that reader! More of these would be most welcome
A reply on Facebook this week made me sit up and think. “Chrissie Bradshaw never ever feel like you have to justify your life, you bloody earned it and why not, I say? x” Thank you to that Romantic Novelist FB friend who made me question a few things like –
Why do I feel apologetic for being part of a generation that had free uni education ? Why apologise for my luck in getting onto the housing ladder in my twenties? Why am I quiet about building up a good pension when others have to work for longer? Why am I reticent about taking a few holidays every year and spending three winter months abroad to get on with my writing? Why do I feel I’m partly to blame for being part of the Brexit generation that is spoiling our country’s future?
I know I have had some lucky breaks but hang on!
When I went to uni, I didn’t travel abroad or take a gap year. My uni digs were basic and we didn’t even have TV. I worked every holiday to pay off an overdraft. My starter home was furnished with family cast offs and the mortgage meant we didn’t take a holiday. I worked and brought up my daughter and holidays were few. I’ve earned the free time I have now and I still work. To misquote Bette Davis, “Writing is not for cissies!” As for Brexit, we can only blame a few senseless politicians who stood behind David Cameron and plotted such a daft referendum that has divided and damaged the country I have thoughtful intelligent friends on both sides of Brexit and nobody could have envisaged such a political muck up
As from today, I’m going to try my hardest to stop the apologies -especially that one where I say I’m JUST a women’s fiction writer.
Does anyone else feel like they’re always about to say sorry?
The funny thing is, many people who should be apologising about uni grants, housing, pensions and Brexit wouldn’t dream of saying sorry.
Sometimes, I wish I had a crystal ball so I could see what lies ahead. I could be prepared for the wonderful day when I get my exciting multi book deal with a publisher by having a couple of novels at the ready.
What would you like to know about your own future?
It would be such a relief and joy to know that a personal dream is eventually going to happen wouldn’t it?
Or would it?
When I was accepted into college, it took away the need to achieve high ‘A’ levels and I did a bit of coasting because my place was a sure thing.
What if the crystal ball showed no deal? I’ll never stop writing but would I lose confidence and stop trying so hard to improve?
Perhaps we should all heed the words of the author Vera Nazarian who said,
‘Not knowing is the greatest life motivator. So enjoy, endure, survive each moment as it comes to you in its proper sequence, a surprise.’
My latest novel, ‘The Barn of Buried Dreams’, opens with a surprise for Erin, the main character. She is faced with changes she couldn’t foresee. Erin returns home to care for her sick mother leaving her fiancé and London theatre life for a while.
Here is a taster.
Erin had never understood how anyone could be totally surprised by their pregnancy.
She stared at the stick in her hand in utter disbelief. Two stark lines…the test couldn’t be clearer. How had this happened? Well, she knew how, of course she did, but what were the odds? Wow.
Bloody wow. She bit her knuckle and checked the tiny screen again. Wasn’t she supposed to be doing a happy dance? Maybe. When she got over the shock. It was such bad timing. This was meant to happen in the future, very far into some fuzzy future, when it would be a thrilling moment with Damien doing the test with her. They had a wedding to plan and their careers to establish before this bit of the story.
Erin felt guilty immediately. How could she feel that way? She had created a new life with the man she loved and here she was thinking it was inconvenient. She hoped the tiny being that was beginning to grow inside her couldn’t hear her thoughts.
Her life hadn’t been her own this year and now it looked like it wouldn’t be ever again. She’d spent years working hard to get where she was but now her stage career was drifting away like an unattended beachball, bright and enticing but moving further and further out of her reach. Would it come back to her on another tide or crash on the rocks?
‘Erin, our programme will be starting soon.’
‘Just coming, Mum.’ She placed the confirmation of her future on the bathroom window sillhurried downstairs to make a pot of tea before Happy Valley started.
Mum was soon engrossed in the episode, making comments about the murder case and cursing human traffickers. ‘Sergeant Cawood won’t let them get away with this trafficking scam, will she, Erin?’
Erin tried to keep up but her mind churned away at her own inner drama. When would she tell Damien? She’d have to tell him first, even before she told her mother. What would they do about a wedding? Rush into a small ceremony before or wait until after? They would both just have to get used to the idea of parenthood. There was never a perfect time to have a baby but she was twenty-seven and they had talked about starting a family, one day, so they’d just have to put their wedding plans on hold and become a family sooner than they thought.
‘Erin?’ the credits were rolling and her mother was studying her closely.
‘Yes, Mum. What is it?’
Liz Douglaseaned forward in her chair, her pale face showing how easily she tired. ‘You haven’t followed that episode at all and your mind seems far away. Is everything OK?’
‘Everything’s fine.’ Erin managed a smile.
‘Are you sure?’ Mum could be a mind reader at times.
‘I was just thinking about Damien coming at the weekend and wondering how to keep him entertained. You know how quiet he thinks it is around here.’
‘A night at the Bridge Inn isn’t his idea of fun is it? How about the Red Lion at Alnmouth? That’s livelier.’
She caught Mum’s wicked smile and laughed. ‘Yeah, he’ll have to make do with that, or watch TV. He’s just here for a couple of nights anyway.’
Erin helped her mother up from the chair and across to the single bed that was set up in the corner of the living room. It was good to see her regaining her sense of humour and watch her getting stronger every day. In a month or so, she might be back to normal. Bloody hell, she hoped so. Poor Mum, she was really working at her recovery from a stroke but she was nowhere near to being independent again.
Erin was anxious to get back to London, the sooner she could get back to work, the better. Her agent couldn’t put her forward for auditions when she was tied up here and she missed Damien. Mum came first, though and, until she had made a good recovery, Erin would stay here. Remembering the baby cells that were multiplying minute by minute, she drew in a sharp breath. She would be limited in getting any roles once this baby started to show.
‘What’s startled you, Erin? You look like you’ve seen that Tommy Lee from Happy Valley.’ Mum looked at her curiously as she slipped off her dressing gown and sat on the bed.
Erin shook her head. ‘It’s nothing. I’ve just remembered something I need to do tomorrow.’ The phone rang, freeing Erin from any further questions as she crossed over to pick up the call.
‘Hi it’s me. Is Mum still up?’ It was Heather, Erin’s sister.
‘Yes, she’s right here… Mum, here’s Heather, for you.’ She passed the phone over and took the chance to escape further questioning by slipping into the kitchen to prepare a night time tray with water, a flask of tea, a plate with two shortbreads and her mother’s tablets. Heather would be chatting to Mum about Happy Valleyfor a while; they both loved a crime series.
Bracken barked at the door to go outside. Erin smiled as he sat smartly with his head cocked to one side waiting for her to let him out into the back garden. As she stood in the open doorway and watched the silhouette of the Welsh terrier snuffling in the bushes at the far end of the garden, Erin thought about what Heather would say when she heard her baby news. She was longing to tell her. Heather was already eight months along with her second and would be full of advice, but it was only fair to tell Damien first.
A few more days until he arrived on Friday and, after she had talked to him, she would break the news to Mum and Heather then her friend, Darcy. She just couldn’t imagine Darcy’s response. They had both shared dreams of stage careers and of finding love, but they had never talked babies.
Lying in bed that night, Erin counted backwards to work out just how many weeks pregnant she was. She’d already done this a dozen times since taking the test and the answer didn’t change. She’d run out of pills soon after dashing home to look after Mum in November and hadn’t been too concerned because Damien had a busy filming schedule and was going to see his parents in Kent for Christmas. He wouldn’t be visiting for a while so there was no rush to renew her prescription when their only contact, video call or text, was a hundred per cent conception proof.
Damien had missed her over Christmas and arrived at the door of Magpie’s Rest to surprise her on New Year’s Eve with presents and champagne. She hadn’t expected this extra surprise… she really hadn’t. Just one careless night? Hell, she must be eight weeks pregnant.
She glanced at the time, waiting for Damien to call. Last night, he said if he didn’t get in touch by midnight, it meant he was delayed at the promotion event he had to attend. There was a minute or two to go but she was tired. She decided to ring him.
‘Hi Damien are you still tied up with work?’
‘Erin! Hi babe. Yeah, can’t get away, I’m afraid.’
‘Never mind. It’s not long until the weekend and we can catch up then.’
‘Weekend? Oh…the weekend. Listen, I need to talk to you about that. Look, I can’t chat now, babe, but I’ll call in the morning.’
He wasn’t coming. She knew it. She could tell by the tone in his voice.
Erin doesn’t have a crystal ball but she is predicting that Damien will let her down. What does her future hold?
The Barn of Buried Dreams is available on Amazon as an ebook or paperback and a free read, if you subscribe to Kindle Unlimited.
Whenever I pick up a pen or open my lap top, I think about two things. What am I going to write? Who is it for?
A lot of my scribbling is for myself. To-do lists, research notes, my diary and the first drafts of every novel. I’m emptying ideas from my head so I can look at them in the cold light of day.
Are you a list maker? I love writing to-do lists. They are wishful thinking and I never ever tick everything off but they help me to get a few things done.
Prepare a curry-tick
water plants – tick
write 2000 words -tick
Do you find some tasks just don’t get ticked off? For me, chores like windows and floors, can carry over for days!
This year, I kept a personal diary for the first year in ages. It started because my sister, Pam, bought me a brilliant ‘Me.You’ diary created by Dawn French.
This is such an inspired book! It’s full of suggestions, musings and blank pages. It is flexible and without dates and I found that I loved writing in it.
Looking through the pages, I see it is stuffed with big ideas, dreams and aspirational quotes that I liked but didn’t always live by. It is also crammed with rants and moans and whinges. A diary is a good place for all those thoughts – a private record of the topsy turvy year I have journeyed through.
Will I be keeping a diary again this year? Oh yes! You see, a lot of my daily writing finds an audience.
My Facebook posts tend to have a glossy filter. Do yours?
My tweets are for a wide audience and any comments n there are positive or, if they are negative, about bigger issues than my own little niggles.
My blog tends to focus on the brighter side of my life. This writing is a ‘true’ picture of my life – I always try to be authentic- but it is an edited version because I try to find the good side or the humour in any struggles.
My novels only go to readers after three or four drafts that have been read and revised by me.
A diary is somewhere to harvest and store happy memories too.
Here is the ‘I Instantly Smile when…’ page.
I love my diary, so private, full of my ideas, dreams, smiles, moans and grumbles and a great way to get rid of those thoughts that stop you from sleeping.
If, like me, you haven’t tried keeping a personal diary for a while, why don’t you give it a try. You don’t need to write every day but it is there when you have something to mull over.
Keeping a diary yea or nay? I’d love to hear from you.
I spent January on sticks after a hip replacement and worked hard to regain my fitness. Oh the joy of walking, playing golf and being active without suffering hip and back pain.
I hobbled around during my holiday last December. Yes, I really struggled during our trip to Egypt but this December would be different! We were returning to Egypt and I dreamed of strolling along the beach, using the pool and exploring without the onset of a nagging pain and need to sit down for a while.
Day 1 – I slipped getting out of the pool and fractured a bone in my pelvis. Back on crutches for the holiday and for the next eight weeks.
Yes, it’s a disappointment. No. It’s not the end of the world. I’m ending the year like I started it but I’m here. It will pass and my arms are very toned!