Category Archives: writing

My writing life – In search of tranquillity

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Front of houseTwo years ago we became the proud owners of a brand new home where my writing desk now dwells. We hadn’t intended to buy a new home but fate stepped in and gave us a shove in that direction. We had been searching for the perfect home for several years. Living in or near the countryside with a good-sized garden for our four plump and well-loved chickens was a pre-requisite. Then the two elder chickens, sleek black rock Doris & fat little bluebell Lulu, died within months of each other. Much as we missed them, we were still the proud owners of two flighty Leg bars and though not nearly as friendly, they were still our girls and worthy of a good home. Then one night, the fox came. Fox 2: Chickens 0. We were left with an empty hen house, a few random feathers & no necessity for land.

Buying a new home just sort of happened. We obtained a part-exchange valuation purely for interest, viewed a few show homes and before we knew it we had paid a deposit and instructed a solicitor. A date was set, some conveyancing hurdles were overcome and we moved in during a rainstorm in June 2014. Then it got complicated.

Our house is lovely – really bright and light for a new home and a little haven of writing happiness. But like all new homes, there was a lengthy snagging list and the builders accidentally forget to install the fitted wardrobe in the master bedroom and tiled the bathroom brown when we had chosen grey. They pushed hard for us to sign off the snagging list despite the fact that much of the frontage had not been finished but we stood firm, refusing to sign for something on a ‘gentleman’s agreement’. Good thing too as it took months to resolve.

The builders were pretty well-behaved in the intervening months. They fitted a temporary wardrobe and several months later they completed the real one, albeit on a slant. They returned several times and finally straightened it, sorted out most of the snagging and we, in turn, agreed to ignore the fact that all our towels were steel grey, settling for the brown bathroom with good grace.

Then a year later it started. We purchased the house on the strength of the green in front which was never to be built upon and would ultimately be a public green area. The site office, the concrete towers and all the building resources beside the green had long outstayed their original two removal dates. They were supposed to disappear about six months after we moved in, but despite numerous promises, there they remained; and with the added aggravation of concrete towers being topped up on a regular basis. Having run out of space and with no intention of opening their other tract of land, the builders suddenly plonked a contractor’s car park in front of our house. Every morning at 7.20 sharp hordes of traffic pulled up, causing noise, disturbance and a nasty bottleneck at the top of the road. We had been promised a lovely green space and had been left with no possibility of living in quiet enjoyment of our property. Lulu

The world can be a cruel place and the car park issue is small potatoes compared to the problems some people face who don’t even have a place to call home. But sometimes it’s hard to see the wider picture and we became caught up in the injustice of the situation and the attitude of the builders who practically laughed in our faces when we complained. So we decided to stop moaning and start acting. We took the usual channels of writing, phoning and involving the local council who were supportive but slow to act. When this didn’t work, the residents of our road took half a dozen cars down to the sales suite with photographs of the newly created car park interspersed with photocopies of the promised green area taped to the inside of the windows. There was a delicious irony in parking in their own reserved spaces given that it was getting so difficult to park in our own. It took four days of bad publicity for the builders to change their minds. The car park was removed, the site office disguised and works on the green area began. Hurrah for people power.

Now two years on the cars have gone (except for a recent blip swiftly resolved), and the green area is now yellow, covered top to toe with rape seed. OK, it’s not the flat green area we were promised, it’s a meadow; and all the more beautiful for being wild and out of control. The top half of the site office where the contractor’s played golf across the fields has been removed, the silos have gone and some of the roads have even been paved. I write at my dressing table at the front of the house overlooking the yellow against the distant hill. It’s not perfect but it inspires me.

A writer’s life – The pros and cons of a broken wrist

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I painted the kitchen this weekend – well seven eighths of it to be exact.  My task was rudely interrupted by the failure of my footstool to stay intact.  After twenty year’s loyal service, it split in two while I was cutting in around the carefully masked cooker hood.  I shattered my wrist while the ceiling received a liberal stroke of ‘white with a hint of bamboo’ as I fell.  On reflection, I came off worst.

Determined to make the best of it, I compiled a list of pro’s and con’s.  For every downside, there must be a balancing upside.

I can’t type.  What’s the point of a one handed touch typist? Woman up.  You can type one handed.  Lucky you not to have broken your right hand.
Much worse, I can’t go to the gym Walk the dog then.  And while you’re about it, consider the deficiencies in your latest plot line.
I’ll get fat! Good point.  No chocolate or biscuits for you until the cast’s off.  Make that dog walk a mile longer.
But my wrist’s smashed up.  I might need an operation. Then you can use that experience in your writing.  No event is ever wasted!
Fine – but I’ll have to go into hospital (inconvenient) and the cast will be on even longer (not known for my patience). Refer back to the previous answer.
Whatever.  But I can’t drive for six to eight weeks?  That’s a threat to my monthly book club and the new ALLI writer’s meet I hoped to join. Big deal.  Suddenly too good to ride the bus, are we?
It hurts. I’ll give you that one.  No pain without gain, they say.
On the plus side, I’ll have more time for reading, writing and research if I’ve got nothing better to do. Now you’re talking.  You’ve got a ‘Writing’ magazine upstairs with the plastic wrapper on.  Time must be at a premium.

And so the internal dialogue rumbles on.  Yes, it’s a nuisance, but sometimes when you are trying to squeeze too much in, life takes control and bites back. I’ll have less time for the physical things.  DIY must take a backseat and I don’t suppose I’ll swing a kettlebell for a while – but it’s given me an unexpected six weeks to catch up with a spot of reading and time to research my new murder mystery. A wrist with a twist, you might say.

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Generating a character name from genealogy

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Famhist LogoSo, you’ve carefully crafted your plot, nurtured your creation and developed a story.  But what do you call your characters?  Perhaps a name evolves along the way, but if not, where do you turn for inspiration?

Sometimes luck strikes and a name appears out of the blue. In Beau Garnie & the Invisimin Mine, Beau’s best friend Skyle fell into that category. Her name came first and her character was built around the name, but that was an exception. Normally, more thought goes into naming.

Some writers use the telephone directory, some use baby naming books and there are several random name generator sites – some are genre specific.

I didn’t use any of these resources. The approach I took fitted in with another of my interests. As a keen genealogist, I manage a large website containing myriad East Anglian families. The current working database contains over 51,000 individuals so is a rich resource of old English names. Some are commonplace – there are more John Bird’s than you can imagine, but there are also a number of unusual names or names that have fallen from favour.

A lead character in my children’s fantasy novel, Beau Garnie, was shamelessly ‘borrowed’ from a genealogical source. My 11x Great Uncle Nicholas Fairweather worked for the Sheriff of Suffolk, Nicholas Garneys. My character’s name is a variation of that. Beau’s father Gwalter was based on my 10 x Uncle Walter Brook; his name appears as Gwalter in many documents.

There is an extensive choice of names to work with ranging from biblical to those that must surely have been invented. Old male Hebrew names Shedrac, Onesimus, Gad and Jabesh sit side by side in the name index with their female counterparts Jerusha, Kerrenhappuch, Keturah and Salome. Relatives include Methuen (a Scottish name), Ethelbert, Angier and Esmond (Norman) and my East Anglian ancestor Athelstane Nobbs whose name is Anglo-Saxon.

Using a surname as a forename was popular in Suffolk generating combinations like Catling Fairweather, Pells Kersey, Bosom Abbs and Candler Bird. The rarity of such names makes it is easier to find information, particularly in searchable newspaper databases. This in itself generates ideas for backgrounds and stories for characters. I know from records that Rudd Turner murdered his wife and child in 1831 and was subsequently declared insane and that my 4 x great grandfather Minns Riseborough was violently assaulted with a knife by John Buck following accusations of pig stealing.

Genealogy contains wonderful resources for female names too. The ugly sounding Grysigono Smith sounds more like a witch than the heiress she was. Eszma Seago naturally conjures up an unappealing woman, perhaps with a skin complaint. In fact, she married so was probably quite a normal looking girl. Repeniler Barrett’s name is a little too similar to repulsive to invoke a wholesome character. On the other hand, Gallindra Bayfield is a wonderful name that trips off the tongue and is well-suited to a fantasy character, Haidee Mallett sounds joyful and Fairlino Love must have stepped straight out of the pages of a Mills and Boon novel.

I can’t imagine being able to use the obscure ancestral names of Hersee Fosker, Hiwasse Bullock and Thurley Ulph.  They are just too ugly. But I must find a way to work Sebborn Gonner, Pitcher Belding and Barzillai Brighty into one of my books. My favourite name, for reasons I haven’t fathomed, is the wonderfully christened Scapy Tydeman of Earl Stonham in Suffolk. That name is too good to be lost in the mists of time and a character namesake grows in my mind, even as I type…….