ENCOUNTERS NEEDED A GOOD PLACE TO SITE A PRISON

Right back at the start, when I was planning ENCOUNTERS, I knew at least one of my characters was going to find themselves in an hermetically sealed room. When I researched Suffolk looking for a suitable place to site my prison cell I was delighted to discover a Martello Tower was just down the coast - exactly where I wanted it to be.


These coastal defence forts were built by the British Army during the nineteenth century. The army built towers using this design, all over the British Empire, from Ireland to Canada, and many still survive. 

The name Martello originates from a circular stone tower built in Corsica, at Mortella Point. French troops occupied the island, and the Corsican patriots pleaded for British help to drive the French out. The tower fell after several days concerted effort and its strength impressed enough for the British army to build a lot of them.

Do you want to try describing a castle that looks like it was made from three buckets of very solid sand? ;)

Not a castle, the tower’s flat top was hemmed with a single low rail and two security guards – but they were probably detachable. The three curving walls they could see from the side made it look as if a child had emptied large buckets of sand there - three or four times. Built onto a shingle beach, access to the tower was across a wooden drawbridge. It would be easy to defend.

HAPPY ST PATRICK'S DAY

I was born in Ireland: in the capital city, Dublin. So, for today, let me say: Céad míle fáilte - Welcome! (this is nearly the sum total of my Gaelic)

Being Irish by birth, I have always celebrated St. Patrick’s Day. My shamrock may have been suspiciously like clover but the green,white and gold ribbons tying up my bunches made for very effective camouflage.

The dinner for today, the one that is wafting meaty goodness up the stairs, came from a recipe I found on the Bloginity site. You can't smell how tasty it is but I have posted the details here and a picture too. For a change, the meat in my pot doesn't look too dissimilar ;)

St. Patrick’s Day Recipe: Corned Beef and Cabbage

Ingredients:
6 lb. corned beef
2 12-oz. bottles of your favorite beer
4 garlic cloves
3 tbsp. peppercorns
2 tbsp. mustard seed
1 tbsp. coriander

1 head cabbage

Directions:

Rub open faces of corned beef with garlic. Insert corned beef into large pot, and fill with beer. Add water if necessary to cover corned beef by one inch. Add spices, including garlic, and cover. Bring pot to boil then lower to a simmer. Maintain simmer for four and a half hours. Remove corned beef and allow to sit while you boil cabbage in the water from the corned beef. Enjoy!

Read more: St. Patrick's Day Recipe: Beer-Cooked Corned Beef and Cabbage 


Did I mention this is the fourth day of my notexactlyatkins inspired, healthy eating programme? I ate in a restaurant last night, and I spent ages selecting the driest Indian curry - no naan bread for me, thank you - keeping to the spirit of the programme ;) 


Today, I have had the bubbling beef speaking to me for nearly four hours and I've resorted to sucking the string on my borrowed, orange hoody  which I have teamed to co-ordinate with my green, satin dress and white leggings. 


Have you noticed St Patrick's Day is not about elegance? ;) Are you celebrating today?


Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Daoibh - Happy St Patrick's Day to you. :D 

ST PATRICK'S BREASTPLATE

(I found this on my trip around the blogs - wish I could remember where - it is SOOOO beautiful)

'I bind to myself today

the power of Heaven,

the light of the sun,

the brightness of the moon,

the splendour of fire,

the flashing of lightning,

the swiftness of wind,

the depth of sea,

the stability of earth,

the compactness of rocks.'

MEETING THE ENEMY - a short story for the HONING YOUR SKILLS BLOGFEST

I love National Geographic

It's a Blogfest! Today it's time for the Hone Your Skills Blogfest, hosted by RosieC and Charity Bradford 

HONING? This is how to do it ;)

1. On March 16, post a short story around 750 words, no more than 1000, in any genre you like.
2. Read and give a critique for the person before and after you in the Linky List (and as many others as you can/want to). When you critique: a) find at least two things that really work, and b) at least two suggestions for how it can be tightened or improved.

                                                             MEETING THE ENEMY

My studies included the kind of stuff that would earn me geek-status with the save-the-environmentally-friendly Eco-clique: I could name every species of tree, plant, bird and mammal that should be living in the woodland. Sick of dolling out death, I declared myself a holiday. So walking rather than running through the trees, I tuned out every kind of sense; blocked out hearing anything living and made sure I couldn't smell death or anything non-human too.
        But the spreading dark leached the last rays of sunlight. It was all shade and shit in the trees. I caught my foot in a rabbit hole I was too large to fall into and my ankle gave out. I didn’t sprain or twist it because once a Daughter of Slaughter, always a cold-blooded killing machine born to dispatch The Oro who ranked just a little bit lower than reptiles. I’m trained to listen to my body: if my body warns me to protect it… that is what I do. I dropped and rolled and hugged the ankle to stop the swelling and warm the tendon. My surface injuries, and ones not involving broken bones, heal in about five minutes. I waited out the ache and focussed my energies on healing so I'd be able to move freely, as soon as possible – just in case.

In the grey, lowering of day the watered-down sunlight didn’t warm. I shivered when leaves rustled in the breeze and cold descended with the darkening sky. This was not a conventional on-coming storm this was the trace of power I usually hunted for. Maybe when I’d declared myself a holiday from the fray, I should have either kept out of the forests or sent a note to The Oro asking for a time-out.

The shape was unclear at the edges but he was defining himself faster than my normal prey. I had few options, waiting to see if I could heal faster than he could reveal was one of them. The wrongest one as it turned out, my ankle was still grating when he crystallised. Straight grey hair hung fine but thick to his broad shoulders, alabaster skin without his green nightglow was sinfully pink in the last rays of twilight – all the way down to his low slung, leather breeks. I admired the rip and the ripples even as I wondered if they were always built this way. Still, I wouldn’t get to wonder for much longer. I climbed to my feet and put the healing back another minute. Hopping a little, I threaded my fingers through my hair and shoved it back out of my eyes, at least I’d see him move.

He moved. Transferring the scythe-shaped sword into his other hand, he rested his fist against his hip. His voice held that high pure note I’d sometimes heard in the forest at dawn. Sad and pure, he sang the song my Buckler said belong to the Faerie we could never see. My language degraded the notes so, even to me, parts of the song sounded discordant.

“Whyfore do the Dayworld Peoples bleed The Nocturn of the Night?”

“I? Why?” I coughed. “We defend ourselves.”

He smiled, a sad, small tugging of his lips, “Whyfore must you defended be... from The Guardians who protect when shades fall thick and darkness makes the eyes to bleach to grey... for you Dayworld beings?”

“I –”

“Kill not The Nocturn Guardians for the enemy grows stronger.”

“Us? We are the enemy?” I asked. Pride seeped in with the strengthening of my spine and the healing in my ankle.

I transferred my weight to my good foot and tightened my fingers into fists. Before I could launch myself, he faded. From the outer edge to his core he became insubstantial until he was all blue-bright light.. until his ringing laughter resonated through the woodland, high and clear like a warning.

Hope you liked the short story. Please let me know what I could work on :D

I am looking forward to reading the short stories everyone is posting today.

THE 3 PILLARS OF PRESENCE - SHELLI HAS ME TIP-TOEING OVER EGG SHELLS

Diana Fox and Shana Cohen
Literary agents extraordinaire

My thanks to: Shelli (srjohannes)

Atlanta, Georgia, United States MG/YA Author represented by Alyssa Eisner Henkin (Trident Media Group); Marketing Consultant

Perhaps, it doesn't matter who conducted the interview, nor which agent was discussing online presence and marketing, the advice began the same:

The Three Pillars of Presence:

1) Have an online presence – a basic website with information about how to contact you and information about your books. Every author has to perfect a method of reaching out to the target audience.

2) Network. Authors should cultivate relationships both with potential readers and with people in the industry, like fellow authors, librarians, booksellers, and other publishing professionals. Some ways to do this include:

• going to conferences
• joining writers organizations (such as the Authors Guild, RWA and SCBWI)
• establishing relationships with local booksellers and librarians
• offering to do school visits and talk to book clubs (either remotely or in person)
• attending events to support fellow authors
• authors promoting one another by doing things like participating in group blogs, retweeting and interviewing and guest blogging for one another, giving away books by other authors, planning events together, etc.
• being active in writing forums like Backspace/Absolute Write/Verla Kay/OWW/Romance Divas
• interacting personally with readers online
• have other interests and participate in other communities that aren't directly related to writing and publishing.

3)    Authors need to care about--and talk about--more than just themselves and their books, and often, other people who share their non-writing interests will be a good potential audience for the author's books as well. (That Garston Ladies FC connection is looking like a good link – I knew the MG “Girl Power League,” (^TMEAMS)  following the highs and lows of the girls' U10s football team was a good idea  – arf! – no ROFL :D

 Then came the scary section - it makes me glad I comment more thoughtfully than "Great post" and worry over every word I write:

As an agent, when evaluating whether to take on an author or book, I'm assuming you Google them.

Yes--and sometimes I Google them even earlier. If I see a fantastic query and request the manuscript right away, I’ll often Google because I’m excited to learn more about the author. If I’m on the fence, sometimes I’ll Google to see if they have a blog or website with further excerpts from the book I’m considering requesting, to help make up my mind.

And when I’m thinking of offering representation, I go through everything I can find: blog posts, Twitter, Facebook, posts on message boards and writing forums, online publications, etc. Mainly because I want to make sure my clients know how to act professional in public, but I also want to see what they bring to the table (in addition to a great book, of course!) and their online presence is a part of that.

I knew there was a reason why taking time over what to write was a good idea.

When it comes to commenting, I'm with m'Mam and Thumper:  "If you can't say something nice... don't say nothing at all." :P

Did the extent of the Google Search surprise you? Was it really just me who was shocked?

The National Archives has "lost" the files on the Rendlesham Incident - Good: some knowledge is dangerous.

http://www.consciousape.com/discussion-topics/rendlesham-forest-ufo-cover-up/

BBC News has reported that the National Archives has "lost" the intelligence papers and witness statements recording the details of the UFO sighting known as "The Rendlesham Incident." 

My novel, ENCOUNTERS – finished in January – hypothesises about the significance of this incident.

Neither short-sighted, elderly alcoholics nor wild-haired, attention-seeking anarchists observed the incident: a group of servicemen reported seeing strange lights and investigated the scene almost immediately and found marks on the ground and damage to vegetation.

An extensive search for the lost files has unearthed only a series of notes. Officials speculate the files could have been taken home by “someone” and that "it could be interpreted to mean that a deliberate attempt had been made to eradicate the records covering this incident."

Among intelligence papers released in 2009, was a letter from the former Admiral of the Fleet Lord Hill-Norton who wrote to the defence secretary about the incident in 1985. He speculated that an unauthorised “aircraft” may have entered and left UK airspace at the time. Which was exactly what the witnesses who were asked to record their impressions said too ;)

If I need to write another query letter, do you think I ought to include a little of this information in it?

ENCOUNTERS

She wedged her feet against the rail but it didn’t stop her sliding. With her forehead pressed against her knees, something wet trickled down the side of her nose.

 “Brace yourself,” her Dad hissed through clenched teeth, “and keep your head down!”

When she wanted to look up she pulled her hair, fingers curled into the back of her head. The first violent swerve sent her crashing against the steel ledge. It fractured her skull above her ear. She lost consciousness. In the sleeping compartment of the cream and maroon van they had converted into a home she rolled like a marble when they veered across the white lines painted down the centre of the road. The choice was not if they would die, only how it would happen. There was a wall of rock; the petrol tanker lying more like a victim than an assassin and the steep, rocky, drop to the wide river.

I HAVE A WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY - NOW I HAVE TO MAKE SURE I DON'T BREAK IT

When I went looking for a picture of Lucas
someone rather famous turned up.
The young Harry Windsor makes a great Lucas.

Sunday is, usually, the day I read.

On Friday, I started Ken Follett's The Pillars of The Earth. I've read up to page 165. Ken's novel weighs like a brick in my bag when I carry it around hoping to find a minute or two to disappear into medieval England. I'm also on page 50 of Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin. I couldn't resist buying it when I passed a shop with a WDN display.

I should be at  the Garston Ladies FC U12's Cup Final, but I'm going out for dinner later and I neeeeeed to write.

I was up until silly hours plotting the next chapter for STARRING. I have, again, resorted to writing in pencil (pencil is my comfort mode of writing) in my notepad. 

I usually start each chapter by:

• visualising the whole thing
• handwriting the opening few lines
• adding details to my rough outline
• then typing as fast as I can when the house is quiet

These are my seven sentences for Sunday. They are taken from STARRING - MG magical realism novel:

Absorbed by the slices of rainbow his glass freed when it split the light from the window, he shifted the glass from left to right over the tray. A breath of cold blew up Lucas' back to his neck. He turned, past the empty chair, to where the room looked darker behind him. He stared at the pairs who were testing their abilities and trying to impress: hands were moving, lips were mouthing the phrases silently. At the back, several rows behind him, Rolf Foxworth ignored the work his partner was doing.  Hair caught in one of the rays that lanced across the room, his red head was not bowed over the work on the desk and he wasn’t reading the information from the board: he was staring to where Lucas stood.

“Great,” muttered Lucas and he threw the glass down with enough force to send slivers flying beyond the container and onto the desk beside him.

I would love to read a few sentences from your wip.

What are you reading at the moment?

POETICAL TALES WITH GNOMAN INVOLVED

My Saturday has been a day of many parts, already.


I walked to the leisure centre with my son so he could climb, using a range of coloured plastic blobs, from the floor to the ceiling. He didn't climb back down. While he was hanging, neither moving down nor up, and being fairly unhappy about it, I saw the hook of a picture book dangling like a self-conscious spider: a gnome who lived near the top of the mountain, would probably think what he wanted most was to travel the world. 


Gnoman 


Gnomes had to live in far flung places:
mountainsides with ice-dripped face.


This is the tale of a restless gnome
and his travels from Mount Blank, his home.


This is the cave near the mountain peaks
where the gnomes all carved their castle keeps.
Gnoman clambered  out and he sat on a rock
as he looked through the mist, he had quite a shock,
for there in the valley, so far below
the land wasn't white and the snow didn't snow.
"How I'd love to roam," 
said the gnome.


I'm thinking the Elders and Betters will do a lot to keep Gnoman at the top of the mountain but I don't see him hanging around. ;)


I'm on a high. I wrote the  significant chapter for STARRING this morning and about three times more of my gnome inspired poem-for-a-picture book. I think it's going to be more than 500 words. This is bad, because most picture books are about 500 words long. 


Gnoman has no love interest. When he finds the grass is greener should there be one person who calls him back? Do all stories need a romantic element?