New book release.

Well I promised you big things this year, and I like to keep my word. 

Girl Displaced is a book I thought I might never actually finish. I started it several years ago and I think I only got as far as the first few paragraphs before I had to put it aside to write a film for a client. When I managed to get back to it I completed the first few pages before I had to put it aside again. 

It was years before I returned, just last year. I was determined to sit down and write it. So I cleared my schedule for a few weeks and wrote hard and fast. The result is the book you see today. 

Girl Displaced marries two worlds I know so well - Birmingham and the Ayrshire coast - and tells a tale of a girl who no longer rightfully belongs in either. I hope you enjoy it. x

Book Week, Scotland

I am absolutely thrilled and delighted to have been invited to be a part of Book Week, Scotland. I hope to see you there! 

Brave new Glasgow?

When I was eighteen I left Glasgow for London. It wasn't that I thought the streets in London were paved with gold, but that I thought that city was rich with opportunities I wouldn't find in Glasgow.

Back then in 1984, Glasgow was a dark city. I don't mean that in a symbolic, euphemistic way. I mean it literally. The buildings were black, the streets a dark grey, the skies were grey... hell, even the faces of the people were grey.

The brash gaiety of the decade's pubs, full of themes like 'Alice in Wonderland' and 'Berlin before World War II' [and I kid you not - these were real themes in the pubs at the time] where the bar staff dressed in character, failed to raise my optimism once the final drink had been drunk and I stepped out once more into the harsh, drab reality of the city.

But in the intervening years between then and now, Glasgow has undergone a slow metamorphosis... so subtle to begin with that I almost didn't notice. One by one the old stone buildings have been cleaned of grime [sand-blasted is my best guess] to reveal the real colour of the stone below - red sandstone, rich vanilla or palest cream stone blocks, set together with precision.

And like many transformations, over time things have gathered momentum. One clean building becomes two - notable but still not remarkable - and then it's three, becoming eventually a whole street. Then the dilapidated buildings which were ill-conceived back in their heyday of the 1970's, and certainly not fit for modern purposes, start to disappear. Like the cleaning, it happens one at a time, barely noticeable, not all that significant...

So during every visit I'd look around and note the changes. Yet nothing prepared me for what I found on my most recent visit.

Like every transformation that is done piecemeal, the full effect is never realised until the project is almost completed. It is then that the process appears to speed up, and an overall effect is given. But with a project the scale and size of Glasgow, it would appear that the whole is much, much greater than the sum of its parts.

Because now Glasgow is beautiful. I mean really beautiful. Not the fading beauty of a distant past, but the shining beauty of a vibrant metropolis, full of glitz, glamour, and sex-appeal. Everywhere there are up-market restaurants, designer shops, snazzy signage on the buildings and liveried doormen.

Gone are all the awful 1970's and '80's buildings, and in their place stand fine pieces of modern architecture, in fantastic juxtaposition with the very best of the Victorian buildings. It really is a sight to behold, because each lends the other something it could not otherwise have.

It reminded me a little of an image of a wise old granddad holding the hand of his young grandchild standing at his side. Here was the steadfastness of age, the wisdom and the sure-footedness of knowledge garnered though time-worn experience; and the vibrancy of youth, the innocence and eagerness and freshness of a life not yet fully lived.

It took my breath away. And I wanted to find the official, whoever he or she was, who had the good sense and courage not to just demolish everything, but to keep all the great old structures and build a new Glasgow around and through them, involving them in the new builds in an almost organic, symbiotic way.

Perhaps even more surprisingly, there are beautiful murals everywhere. Not abstract shapes and exaggerated colours and angles which revolt the eye, but masterful, meaningful pictures full of love and hope for a better future, artfully crafted with skill and finesse.

I almost couldn't believe that this was the old drab city I used to live and work in. And the people walk about for the most part oblivious of the beauty around them. I wanted to run up to them, to shake them and make them look up at the gargoyles, the finials, the carvings and mouldings - make them realise that here were things of lasting beauty and worthy of praise. But for the most part their eyes were fixed on the Gucci handbags and Prada offerings on display in the shop windows.

But the thing which really marred my total optimism for Glasgow's future, was the number of homeless people huddled in doorways, cardboard boxes and dirty, stained sleeping bags pulled around them. The Glasgow of my time didn't have this. Perhaps one or two but certainly never the volume of current Glasgow. I think it might be even more than would be found upon the streets of London.

Certainly it appears that Glasgow has a new-found wealth... but what is also clear is that the divide between the 'haves' and the 'have-nots' is wider than ever. And by 'have-nots' I'm not taking about the people who can't quite afford the full Sky TV bundle, I'm talking about the real 'poor' - the ones who don't even have a roof over their heads.

Now don't worry, I'm not going to get all political on you, I'll leave that to those who are better qualified. But what I will say, is that I was more than a little shocked.

So Glasgow, perhaps you need to start revamping your indigenous population too, before all those people in their shiny new Christian Louboutin shoes fall over them and twist an ankle!

Happy reading!

 

Coming Soon

My latest book  [almost completed] is about a woman whose life falls apart after she hears some revelations. Is she like me? No, not at all, but even so, getting into her head space is draining and emotional. That is of course part of the joy and sorrow of writing - you personally bear the pain of every misfortune your character suffers. And then at the end of the book there is no real sense of release... the characters linger for a while. It's like that old saying they used to have in offices which read, "You don't have to be mad to work here... but it helps." You don't have to be insane to write your characters well but... :)

 

I'm not sure when this one will be published, as you know I have a bit of a backlog going on, but I'll keep you posted.

 

Happy Reading!

Happy New Year!

The main reason for my recent visit to Glasgow was to see my elderly father but I also set time aside to catch up with friends. As we only meet once a year, it is fairly easy to keep up the pretence that I am always well-groomed and presentable and that I never, ever answer the door to the postman in my pjs.

But I knew the day was going to go badly when, sitting perched on her side of the bed in the Travelodge room that I was sharing with her, my two sons and two large dogs, my daughter asked through mouthfuls of cornflakes why I had chosen to dye my hair ginger.

Ginger? Really? I shot up and examined myself to find that she was at least a little right. What I had thought to be a pleasing shade of mid-blonde was indeed rather gingery… which proved that not only was my hair turning white, but my eyesight was failing!

The rest of the day turned out to be different to my expectations too. I had carefully researched where I could meet my friend in the centre of Glasgow to have a drink, as I had not only three children in tow but also two dogs. Finally the internet provided an answer and I arranged the meeting after confirming that they did allow dogs in.

So the appointed day and time came and we made our way to the pub, only to be greeted by two men carrying large bundles of wood into the place.

Horrified, I asked if they had suddenly closed for refurbishment. But they hadn’t. Phew relief! They eyed up the dogs. Equally nervously, I stated that I had already phoned them to check that they allowed dogs in. They assured me they did. We were halfway down the steps into the basement bar before they called me back.

“What?” I asked rather tersely by now. “Aren’t you open yet?”

“Naw hen we’re open,” he said in a broad Glaswegian dialect. “An we’re no doin’ any renovations. An aye yer dugs are welcome in. But ye cannae take yer kids in here.” [Translation: “My dear we are open. There are no renovations being currently carried out and your dogs are most welcome here. But not your children, unfortunately.”]

Would you believe it?

Equally as strange, was the pub we ate at that night which turned out to be a deconsecrated church. The pulpit and area for the choir was still preserved, as was the vaulted ceiling and the stained glass windows. The place was incredibly beautiful and somehow very wrong.

So one pub which was licenced to allow dogs but not kids through the door, and another that had once been the site of religious worship and was now favouring a worship of an entirely different kind altogether? Absolutely! Only in Scotland folks, only in Scotland.

Happy New Year!

Are you looking for me? ;)

I think I live in a world that is increasingly surreal...

This blog gives me viewing figures and other stats which I keep a less than eagle eye on. However this morning I noticed that the viewing figures had shot dramatically up, [in a major way, literally quadrupling overnight] so I took a closer look.

When I followed one of the entry sites that people had linked onto the blog from, guess what I found...ok I'll tell you 'cos you will never guess... a site selling Viagra! How funny is that? Me and Viagra...what on earth could possibly be the link?

Answers on a postcard please! ;)

Scottish Independence... Scotland The Brave or United Britain?

On the question of Scottish independence... as someone who was born and raised in Scotland, I have been asked over and over by my friends how I would have voted if I still lived in there and also how I ultimately think the vote tomorrow will turn out.


So here it is. I think it will be a 'yes' vote and indeed that is what I would have voted if I still resided there. But please let me explain. I love England. I have lived here for over twenty years and consider it my home; indeed I have no desire to return to Scotland at all.


However it cannot be denied that the English have had something that has been long denied to the Scottish - a sense that they are masters of their own political destiny; purveyors of their own fate. 


From the moment that devolution took place I think the writing was on the wall that Scotland, having had a small taste of political independence would hanker after the whole hog...


And so it has come to this. Will it be a divided Britain? Not necessarily. The intertwining of nations that is modern Europe will ensure that should the vote be 'yes' there will not be closed borders reminiscent of 'cold-war' Russia. What there just might be is a raised morale in Scotland with the Scottish no longer feeling the underdogs to the English.


And if it is a mistake, as so many predict it will be? Then at least it will be Scotland's own mistake, made by themselves, about themselves.


Either way, the fate of a nation is in it's people's hands and I for one am watching with baited breath.


On a lighter note:- a van with the slogan "Wrekin Removals" passed me on the road today. Honestly, would you entrust your furniture to a company with such an unfortunate name?


Happy Reading.

Robin Williams

I wasn't intending to write a post about the recent death of Robin Williams...much has already been said about the man, his life, his work and his recent death...but I find myself unable to rid my mind of such thoughts. And as so often in my life, I find that writing is a cathartic process which perhaps does not heal a wound but at least lets the pus drain away.


I cannot claim to have known or even ever to have met the man but I do know of his work. I remember him best as the madcap Mork from Mork and Mindy, the fast and furious speech, the wide grin and the endearing behaviour. But most of all I remember sitting watching it, perched on the end of my parents' bed with my dad laughing uproariously and occasionally explaining the finer points to me - I guess I was about seven then.


I remember too, watching Mrs Doubtfire with my own children, my heart wrenched at his character's obvious love for his family despite his flaws.


Robin Williams was the very essence of a comic genius who could wring sentiment from even the coldest of hearts. I have no idea how this affected him in his personal life or whether he was afflicted with the neuroses that seem too often to accompany genius...all I know is that he left a family who loved him and a world that [to echo his daughter] will be a little darker with his passing.


For me personally this news comes at a strange time, for I am undergoing a small grieving process of my own. I seem to have come to a crossroads in life, I can see the many roads of the past which led me to where I now stand. Some of those roads are now careworn and covered with a thin veil of dust - the passage of time and the losses it wreaks on our souls serve to decay and rot the surface of such trails but other roads are yet fresh and beckon towards me with a strange eerie call. To go down those roads previously well trodden would be dangerous but the appeal is there nonetheless.


The future is less clear. And I guess that is true for all of us. We can only ever see to the very edge of where the light shines forth, beyond that is a darkness as thick and impenetrable as Sleeping Beauty's forest.


I don't know where the future leads, where its path will be smooth and where I might stumble upon the way...but I am nevertheless driven forward. Sometimes I wish I were not 'blessed' with the dark disposition that occasionally comes upon me but then again, it is this darkness that fuels my novels I am sure.


So to the family of Robin Williams, I would say this : venture down that path ahead as far as you feel you can and when the darkness gets too much, cast your eye back to the blazing trail your father left behind him. What that may have cost him I would not like to speculate but I hope that the knowledge that he made one little Glaswegian and her dad very happy, may light the darkness, even just a tiny bit.


Rest In Peace Mr Williams. x

I'm surprised to see you in here!

Well a character has popped up in my new book that I didn't expect. Her name is Valerie and she is very like my late grandmother.


I didn't intend to base this character on my grandmother at all - in fact I had her down for a very different personality type altogether but every time she spoke or performed any action, I saw and heard my grandmother in my head.


Sometimes this happens and when it does I always go with the feeling. I think it happens for a reason but whatever that is, it is so deeply buried in my subconscious, I cannot get to it.


So it looks like Valerie will be a larger character than I had originally anticipated. Just like my grandmother, she cannot let a good gossip pass her by.


Lets hope she is just as wise and just as endearing!

Early this morning I read a lot of philosophical sayings. There was a reason that I did this and it had nothing at all to do with one of my books or my writing. I won't bore you with the reason but I did want to share some thoughts with you.




I had thought that I was always an intrepid explorer sort of person. I thought I was the sort of woman who would have pioneered across America in the days of covered wagons and cart horses if I had lived in that age.


I had thought that if I had lived in any other age my metal would have been tested and found to be strong and true. But I have come to the sad conclusion that I have been somewhat delusional over this.


My original assumption was based on the fact that I left home at sixteen for a summer job which required me to live-in. Although I returned home in the autumn, I left home for good a bare eighteen months later at the age of eighteen.


I moved around a lot when I was younger, leaving Glasgow for London, London for Birmingham and Birmingham for Bromsgrove. I got bored of the same old scenery, the same old places, the same old faces and when I stayed in any one place it was not through choice but through necessity because I had ties that bound me there.


More recently I longed to move, to seek new horizons, to embrace what the world had to offer. That said it would have been within the geographical confines of driving distance to the schools my children attend, so granted I was never about to backpack around the world!


But I find now that the future has the distinct shape and pattern of the past, the same hue and colour and holds no more promise for me than my chameleon past.


This is not about my writing or my children...these are things that I hold dearly to my heart and always will...this is about my personal journey through life as a single woman, a wife, a mother, a divorcee and finally back to a single woman again. It is about me alone.


I know exactly why I feel as I do and I know exactly what to do about it. I also know that it is in keeping with the next book I am about to embark on. Perhaps that is the whole point of me feeling this way? Perhaps it is a vehicle in which to enter the mind of my next main character? Perhaps. Or perhaps I should just stop analysing it and get on with things...


So no more procrastination...here goes...wheee...!

Hello again!

It has been so long since I typed anything of any length, I have almost slowed down to a crawl but I'm sure that by the end of Chapter 1 in Volume VI, my fingers will be flying across the keyboard as usual.

I have so much to tell you, I almost don't know where to start. But as I have already shown you the picture of me at one of the recent creative writing sessions I did for Sandwell Council, it seems logical to start there.

I cannot speak highly enough of both the library staff and the families who attended the sessions. The children were alert, bright and eager to participate and it was clear they were thoroughly enjoying story making.

The comment slips they handed back to library staff afterwards spoke for themselves, with one comment reading:-

"A fantastic invaluable experience for my children to experience today. An opportunity that will remain a fond memory for life."

I have to say that on reading that comment my eyes welled up a little. To have touched someone's life in a positive way, no matter how minor, is both an honour and a joy.

And it made me think about the people who touched my own life in minor ways but who collectively shaped me into the person I am today...the history teachers who showed me that without knowledge and understanding of our past, we can never fully comprehend our future. The substitute English teacher who taught me the symbolism of poetry and the foreign language teachers who taught me that words can both divide and unite.

It was with these thoughts in mind that I journeyed up to Scotland a few days later to meet up with family and friends. Dreading the journey as ever [it's a long way, you know!] I was buoyed by the thought of meeting up with these long established friends, some of whom I hadn't seen in over ten years.

We were all decades older then we had been at school and we had all had children. And during those years since school we had all created our life stories and in some cases fate had done a pretty good stepping in job, to wreak misery wherever it's little hand touched...but after all that, we were still the excitable, hopeful band of girls that we had been at school.

Linda - irrepressible and funny and probably the only person who can talk faster and louder than me!

Karen - loyal and steadfast and possessed of a quiet dignity which allows her to make her point in an almost regal manner.

Lesley - still cute as a button and almost bursting with life, her vitality and humour was truly wondrous.

[Shona - strong, supportive and caring was unfortunately unable to attend due to family illness ...and yet I felt her presence in every memory we mulled over.]

And me - just grateful that these fine women wanted me in their lives! We had not seen each other for so long and yet our bond was as fresh and strong as it had been all those years ago.

At the end of the night, fond farewells were said all around and promises were made that we would all keep in better touch. But in a very strange way, it doesn't really matter whether we do phone or email each other in the intervening time before my next visit. That friendship is there and will always be there, hibernating gently in the corner, awaiting it's wakening. And it will never be lost or forgotten, nor will it ever die.

So with a happy heart I continued with my stay in the country of my birth. We visited Loch Lomond, a place so beautiful I fear my words will not do it justice. So vast and so unspoiled it arrests the eye and heart in equal measures. Mountains meet lake and are reflected back upon the still waters and if you stand very quietly you can feel yourself transported back in time to a world which was less commercialised and much more real. Not keen on walks, the kids nonetheless love it there and the dogs are in their element.

Sadly we made the return journey to our caravan park but there were more treats in store. The Ayr site we were on was hosting a talent competition for children and I was astounded by the talent of the winners and so pleased to be able to award them signed copies of The Owners, Volume I, Alone.

Well done Morgan, Robyn and Jessica!

And Scotland, as Arnie would have put it, don't worry 'cos "I'll be back."

A new picture!!!

Here I am looking all authorish on the front page of a local Sandwell newspaper. I will fill you in on the details on my next blog post and also tell you about my recent trip to Scotland.

Now who said I wasn't the mistress of suspense...... ;)