You can now find me on Wattpad, listed as carmencapuanoauthor.

Happy Reading!

The snippet below is taken from the book I am currently working on, where the main character believes Hugh Grant is his father.

His fingers trembled with a mixture of anticipation and fear as once more he typed in his father’s name. This time the plethora of images and references to his dad did not faze him. He found what he was looking for quickly and clicked on the tab.

Slowly he read the article to the end and then went right back to the beginning, reading it again, taking time to chew on the information before he interrogated himself to find out how he felt about it.

Hugh Grant had fathered another three children! Two boys and a girl, meaning that now Lucas had two younger half-brothers and a little half-sister. Neither of the two women who had borne him children were engaged or even married to him. He was as single now as he had been when Lucas was conceived. Surely this mean that his heart still ached for his one true love? That no woman could compare to the charms of Anna Pertwee?

Belatedly he wondered if his mother knew about her rivals for his dad’s affections. Did she know he had had other children? Was this just part of the secrecy? Part of the reason she was adamant that no good could come of him knowing his father?

There is a long way to go yet before this book is finished but I promise to keep you updated. In the meantime, check out The Owners volumes I-IV, available on Amazon.

Happy reading :)

My poor character Lucas has a dilemma.

He took a long time folding his own clothes and putting the new ones on. Normally he would have just abandoned his clothes to the changing room floor but today was different. Today everything was different and he needed the time and solitude to try to work out in his head what he should do.

I know exactly how he feels! There are only a few weeks until the summer hols and I have so much to think about and do. Well to be perfectly honest if I spent less time thinking about it I would probably have more time to actually do it!

Anyway look out for the list of my book signings/author talks which I will be posting soon and also for my list of personal recommendations which I am currently working on.

I hope to also have some interviews to post soon - busy, busy, busy!

Until then - Happy reading! :)

Today I am frantically working on The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons [this is only its working title] and thought you might like a little snippet.

Here is the very latest bit:-

Anna didn’t respond with words. Instead she reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “She was an old lady Lucas. She had her time. And it’s far less a tragedy that she died than if you had.”

Lucas was shocked. “How can you say that mum? She was your mother?”

Anna nodded, not halting or slowing her stride in any way. “Because it’s nature. Because the old should always precede the young, because no mother wants to outlive her own child …and believe me your gran would have been the first to agree with that sentiment!”

In some ways this is quite a difficult story to write. My own grandmother, the late Margaret Saez has been used as a template for the feisty Valerie and whilst it is always nice to reminisce, it brings its own sorrows. I hope I do justice to her character.

Happy reading!

It seems that Antonio Banderas has split with his wife Melanie Griffith and so another Hollywood couple bites the dust! I can't even begin to image how strange life under that kind of spotlight must be, the constant rumours, the inquisitiveness of strangers over the intimate details of the split...and ultimately how much strength of character it must take to get right back up and go out in public once more.


Most of us when we face a break-up in a relationship, are able to do so in  relative anonymity. Our friends are told and our families but the shame of a failed relationship stops there. The cashier at the supermarket doesn't know, the waiter at the pub your girlfriends take you to for a consolation drink doesn't know and the teller at the bank most definitely doesn't know. But imagine for one second that they did. Imagine that everyone knew all of the sordid details - it's enough to make your skin crawl, isn't it?


That's why I found Judy Finnigan's comment in the Daily Express quite strange. Judy composed an article about how only two weeks after filing for divorce, Melanie Griffith had turned up at  an Italian film festival  with her estranged husband's name blanked out of the tattoo on her arm.


Ms Finnigan thought it strange that Griffith had only covered up the name [possibly with make-up] and had left the rest of the heart shape intact. Ms Finnigan went on to surmise that perhaps the stunt was no more than a hint that Griffith is prepared to accept her husband back in her life.


Well maybe, maybe not. My own take on it comes from a very different perspective. Maybe in blanking out his name Melanie hoped to show that there was a hole in her heart [figuratively speaking of course, I do not mean to imply that she needs cardiovascular surgery]; maybe she was even hoping to show that there was a vacancy there.


Perhaps she wanted to show that she was brave enough to just get on with things, that she still had a heart even if Antonio Banderas no longer resided in it, either figuratively or not.


Or maybe...just maybe...and I could be clutching at straws here....maybe she just liked her tattoo even if she no longer liked the man whose name used to reside at the centre of it!


Either way, give the lady a break! Breaking up is hard enough without everyone having an opinion.


Happy reading!

Last night I watched The Hunger Games and absolutely loved every moment of it. Although the story was vastly different from my own books, there were parallels with The Owners, Volume I which could not be ignored.

In fact a strange thing happened. During the break for the adverts, an extensive clip of the new Planet of The Apes film, Dawn of the Apes, was shown and I made a startling discovery.

The Owners is almost where Planet of the Apes meets the Hunger Games... I really wish I could explain this more to you but if I did I would ruin the plot so I guess you had better get reading it for yourself!

The weather is gorgeous today. Leave the household chores, they will still be there tomorrow when the sky is grey and filled with rain.

Let today have its moment of glory. Sit in the garden with a good book [preferably one of mine of course!] a glass of what you enjoy and relax! You only live once and time is fleeting.

Happy reading!

Today I had another idea for a new book...now whilst this is always good news, it comes at a rather busy time. I am desperately trying to finish the chick-lit book I have been asked to submit the full manuscript for, I am still trying to edit and polish my children's story and there are another 101 things on the go!


On top of all that I have spent the entire weekend revamping my garden.  I have re-mortared the patio [yes, I KNOW! ME!], decommissioned a compost bin and bagged all the toxic waste in it which had refused to rot away and singlehandedly confounded the entire bunch of male council workers at the local tip.


You see, after I bagged up nine sacks full of muck, I had to get rid of it somewhere, so I drove to the tip.


"Garden refuse?" I enquired politely and was pointed to the correct metal container. So far, so good. But the railing at the top of the steps is high and I am quite small, so not all of the stuff which then had to be tipped out of the bags, actually found its way into the skip thingy. But I felt strong and empowered so I carried on.


Two bags later, two burly council men came over at a trot [they might have run if they had been able I suspect], faces pale and rather worried looking.


"Er, you can't put that in there!" one of them said, trying to wrestle the bulging black binbag from my grasp.
I found myself holding fast onto the plastic sack much like it was a Victoria Beckham bag filled with Cartier jewels.
"But it's stuff from the compost bin that didn't compost," I muttered angrily. Was it my fault that my ploy to save the earth had not come to completion?
"But there is all sorts in there!" he said, still holding fast to his end of the bag.


And to my shame he dipped his hand in and came out with a plastic crisp packet.


So the question is, since to my knowledge, the only person who ever put anything in the composter was me and since crisps and I are fairly mutually exclusive, who put all the plastic packets in the composter?


Miss Marple where are you when I need you?


Happy reading!

Hello again!

I have been extremely busy editing today. In fact I have edited so much, I have already had about fourteen cups of coffee and four squares of chocolate and it's not even lunch time!

[And ok I know the chocolate does not help the editing process in any way but let's just pretend!:)]

I thought I should have a break before my head exploded and I was going to use this time to take the dogs for a walk but then I decided to update you a little instead...so where should I start?

Quite a lot has happened recently. I have been approached by a very new publishing company who are interested in one of my children's stories. Since this still requires extensive editing [what MORE editing?] I have shelved the project for a few weeks whilst I get on with what I need to do first of all, which is get the current book I have been working on up to a certain standard.

But what I really want to tell you about is yesterday, when I conducted my author talk at the Women's Institute.

I had never been to a WI meeting before and felt strangely excited at the prospect. The WI holds a strange fascination - images of a secret ceremony reminiscent of the Mason's was almost what I expected, symbolic vestments and ritualistic handshakes what I was on the look-out for and animal-sacrifice what I almost feared!

Instead of any of those things I found a group of exceptionally pleasant and welcoming ladies, who discussed events with the easy familiarity of  long-held friendships.

A slightly older audience than I am used to, they were nonetheless attentive and interested with a notable exception. One elderly lady, well into her late-eighties either fell sound asleep during my discourse or actually died. It was a toss up between the two as to which was the most likely outcome.

Now I am not known for my boredom factor, so I surmised that this narcolepsy must have been due to the lady's age rather than the sound of my dulcet tones, however it did make me start when I looked up from reading my book excerpt to find her with her head rolled forward onto her chest and looking as pale as parchment.

"Oh God, someone get a mirror and let's check if she is breathing!" I wanted to shout but casting my gaze around I found that I was the only one who was wide eyed with panic...clearly this was not a one-off event.

I struggled to continue the reading, worried about the welfare of my elderly listener. So when another of the ladies drifted off, I knew I was done for! I kept my eyes on the page and stifled the giggles that threatened to well up in me.

I think it was only the applause at the end which roused them [or perhaps the vibrations restarted their hearts, who knows?]

But even so they were a truly wonderful group of women and if I ever get to their advanced age, I hope someone lets me nap when I am tired :)

I know the rest of the group enjoyed the talk immensely and I even gave them an extra laugh at the end of the session, when leaving my car in their car park, I popped over to the supermarket a few minutes away and then had to return to the car with two heavy shopping bags in tow, wearing a white summer dress in the sudden torrential downpour.

They drove past me out of the car park, literally rolling in their seats at the sight of the stupid, never-quite-in-the-real-world author with her hair plastered to her scalp and her dress stuck to her skin...

And as for the two old ladies who fell asleep? Well I will forever remain in their memories as that young author with the relaxing voice...

Happy Reading. :)

Look out for my forthcoming newspaper articles ...coming to a breakfast table near you ;)

Happy Reading!

Hello folks!


Just a quick post as I have an author's talk to conduct today. Here is the link to my recent interview.


http://t.co/4vtsMEm39L


Happy reading!

A quick note before I dash off through the door! A brilliant new author called H. J. Lawson has just interviewed me for her website.


More information will follow about this author and her work but for now here is the link to the site where the interview will appear very soon. http://www.hjlawson.com/


I promise to catch up with you soon.


Until then,


Happy Reading!

OH NO!!!!!

I had to post this to give you a laugh.

My latest book The Plan [working title only] is very different to everything I have written before and so when I took this excerpt :-

The door was wooden and heavy and looked as if it had been put there millennia ago to deter intruders. Hand on the handle she strained to listen for voices from within but the door was too thick for any sound to escape the confines of the inner rooms.

It took both hands to swing the door open and hold it wide enough that she could pass through. There was a small foyer and another door which led from there to the large parquette-floored hall. The other door was open, held ajar by a wooden table littered with flyers and pieces of paper.

Unintentionally she let the front door swing from her hands, wincing as it made a heavy clang back into its frame, the sound echoing across and throughout the sparsely furnished building. And in that instant of reveal she saw them turn their heads and gaze at her, the newcomer, the seeker of thinness, the new apostle to the book of diet…she saw them drink her in hungrily like so many vampires trapped in a morgue.

 

...and pasted into the writing analysis tool, I wondered what would come out. Apparently here I have written in the style of Dan Brown [The Da Vinci Code]. Now that's not good, is it?


Happy reading!  

Back at work! Yippee!

Here is the latest paragraph hot off the press of my newest novel. I am currently working on Chapter 6 so lots still to do.

“Do you remember the film Dirty Dancing?” Indie asked.

Suzie tilted her head to the side. “Are you saying I can’t dance because I’m not a skinny little thing like “Baby” was?” She thought of the slimness of the actress who had played the female lead. A strong gust of wind could have blown her away. No-one would ever have said the same for herself!

“No I’m saying that what “Johnny” said to her was true for you too,” Indie replied.

“No-one puts Baby in the corner?” Suzie asked thinking of the tight corner she had literally just spun herself into.

Indie laughed delightedly at the joke. “No idiot! When he told her she had to feel the music not just hear it!”

“OH!” Suzie realised Indie was right.

If you like dancing and you like a rom-com then this will be the book for you. If you like YA, sci-fi, fantasy, dystopian and/or post-apocalyptic genres, then check out my Owners series on Amazon. Just type my name into the author search bar and you will find the first 4 of The Owners books...more on their way!

Happy reading!

Well what an education Saturday was!


My almost 14 year old son had read that he could have his PlayStation controller customised for free by renowned graffiti artists if he took it into Birmingham City Centre on Sat 24th March.


Being part Scottish [and therefore 'careful' with money ;)] this sounded like an interesting idea to me and so train tickets in hand, we set off for the City.


This might not sound like a big thing for many of you reading this blog but believe me when I say that Bromsgrove town centre in no way compares to the hustling, bustling city it sits just beyond the fringes of.


Even though I once lived in Birmingham for over a decade, I am filled with a sense of wonder whenever I approach near enough to be drawn into its overwhelming aroma of perfumed shoppers, designer bags clutched at the ready, which sits comfortably atop a miasma of poverty, the two placed in juxtapositions to one another like a bad oxymoron.


It was raining. Hard, sharp rain which seemed to blister the sky with its anger. The sort of rain that soaks you in under a minute flat. The graffiti artists were in a modified cubicle outside, the queue already almost half a mile long by the time my son joined it.


My daughter and I left him to it, promising to return in half an hour to judge his progress. Little did we know it but this was to be a recurring theme throughout the day as it took just over five hours for him to get to the front of the queue.


During this time my daughter and I wandered the shops, I had a makeover [it used up at least ten minutes of the time and amused my daughter] and we got caught up in the Gay Rights Parade. I hadn't know that this was on and so was amazed at the sheer volume of people who lined the streets to watch it pass by.


I am a traditionalist as perhaps you know from my writing but I do uphold a belief that no one system of beliefs has any more right to exist than another. I actually don't care what people's sexuality is. What I do care about is that they treat each other with respect and dignity and receive the same in return. So therefore I have to say that whilst I understood the desire for the march and as some might protest, the 'need' for it, I would have preferred that it had been a little more tastefully done, a little less pantomimed as it were...


Brazilian dancers with costumes which left nothing to the imagination, men in drag, women in jackboots, men wearing nothing but a pair or underpants and a smile...it was all there. I watched the audience with curiosity. Had they all stumbled upon the parade as I had? Unlikely! The crowd was far too huge for that to be a probability. I saw same sex families with young children [adopted perhaps?] held aloft, the more traditional male/female pairings with young children, gay couples of both denominations and groups of heterosexual men and women ...and to my knowledge and undying pride, not a foul word was spoken by any of them. And it brought a lump to my throat.


Across the world people slay other people, they fight in brutal, bloody wars over little scraps of land or ideals that demand tyranny and oppression of the masses...and yet here was Birmingham being open and accepting and liberal and I loved how it made me feel!


So well done Birmingham! Well done all you Brummies. You rock!


Happy reading.

I don't think I will get tired of this writing analysis thing. A moment ago in order to show my son the link, I typed a random paragraph which I intend to use in another of my books. Here it is :


Heart bleeding, pumping fresh love I looked back at him anxiously. He was gone! No sight nor sound nor breath of him remained. Gone without even a whisper to move the stillest air. My heart bled once more; thick, red viscous drops splattered on the wet, musty earth.


So come on now guys, guess whose writing this is closest to in terms of vocabulary, syntax, grammar and general style...


Are you thinking? Are you guessing? Have you got it yet?


Answers in a postcard to ...




Ok so here it is! This time I write like Stephen King.


Happy reading!

I have been asked to contribute to a publication by The Society for Curious Thought. Since I have a lot of thoughts and most of them are curious [if not downright peculiar], I thought I would give it a go!


I was asked about my opinion on the matter of growing socio-economic inequality across the world and what I thought made a fair society.


Here's my ha'penny worth. [Lovecraft, Joyce and Tolstoy eat your heart out - please see previous blog post.]  


In my opinion a fair society is one where each and every voice carries equal  weight; each opinion is considered as carefully as the next; every consideration is extended impartially to every citizen and where neither creed, colour, affluence, influence or intelligence dictate a divide.


Utopia? Perhaps. Impossibility? I hope not!


Happy reading.


Carmen.

Who am I? You can call me Carmen or James or...

I took a little bit of The Owners Volume I : Alone and input it into this analysing tool and according to this I write like H.P. Lovecraft.


This was the section I used :


The harsh sunlight, which pierced the window in its strong and direct glare, was now mellowed and softened in the burnished reflections of the polished wooden walls. The knots and imperfections of the wood resembling tiny worlds of intricacies, too complex to be fully understood.


In passing, he glanced through the window to find the view as breathtakingly beautiful as ever. An amazing variety of trees stood like proud sentinels around a spectacular natural lake. Trees stretched on into infinity in every direction – luscious light-green foliage appearing to vie with emerald and jade for the eye’s attention. Yet the trees also seemed to be collaborating with one another, joining forces in an attempt to outdo the drama of the brilliant blue sky reflected in the shimmering perfection of the silvery lake.


This scene, with its myriad colours and composition was so intense and so contrastingly stunning, it almost made San’s eyes hurt. Each tree was unique, either in size or shape or shade to its neighbour, just as the houses lodged within the heart of the tree, sitting snug amongst its highest branches were different. There were large tree houses and small ones, round ones and rectangular ones and even some which didn’t fit any one particular shape but instead were a weird blend of curves and angles.


Similarly the colours of the houses were all different. No, actually he thought, that’s not true. The colour was all the same – green – it was the sheer variety of shades of green which made them seem so dramatically different. Yet what struck San at that precise moment, was how each tree house conformed to and in fact complimented, the size and shape of the tree it was lodged in. It was almost as if each house had merged and blended with the branches to become a living part of its tree.  



Here it is http://iwl.me/s/147eabd8




Then I took this except from The Owners Volume III : Dark Side of The Sun and performed the same analysis :


Jack stepped into the darkness. Even in the seconds that his eyes took to adjust to the lack of light, he was aware that he stood next to Seth once more. There was a musty smell in the room. Dank and with the sharp acrid stench of urine, it was all he could do not to heave. Whoever was in the building had clearly given up all pretence of civilisation.


And they were aware of his and Seth’s presence. There was a vague sound of susurration, as if the person was making soft whisperings to themselves or another but it was too indistinct for him to make out its source or what was said.


“Step back slowly. Do not turn around,” Seth told him without moving.


“Why?” He knew he should probably just do as Seth suggested but having come this far, he wanted to know what they had found.


The susurration seemed to increase in response to his words, as if the person or persons were becoming agitated at the thought of them leaving. “This is why,” Seth slowly pulled a torch from his pocket and flicking it on, levelled it at the darkest corner of the room.


Hair tangled and knotted, what was left of the scalp hung down in front of the skeleton’s face. Whilst not strictly a skeleton, it was how Jack had to think of the body which was even now being hungrily devoured by the biggest pack of coyotes Jack had ever seen.  Bigger than the average dog, their normally lean bodies seemed fuller and longer than normal.



And this was the analysis  http://iwl.me/s/147eabd8




So far, so consistent. Now the biggie. What happened when I put in a section from my latest book [not yet published] Split Decision?.


Here is the excerpt I used :


The atmosphere in the car was suddenly thick with sexual tension. I could feel all of them straining to hear my answer, listening with their groins rather than their brains.

A primitive fear coursed through me riding a tidal wave of doom. There was no right answer here, only a series of wrong answers. My heart pounded at the steel cage it was entrapped within, banged itself into the padded walls around it and no-one heard it scream. No-one but me. Whatever I answered, I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t! It was a circular route to Hell.

And the result? This time I wrote like James Joyce apparently!  http://iwl.me/s/d760c1b4




Then this excerpt from my current work-in progress, The Plan :


Suzie regarded her companion with wide eyes. None of her friends spoke like this, it was not the type of conversation she was used to having but she liked the honesty of it, the cut and dried truthfulness.

And you will never guess who came out this time! Leo Tolstoy!

And the proof is here  http://iwl.me/s/698342ba

Does that mean I am split personality???


[I wonder what would have happened if I had cut and pasted all the different excerpts into one analysis...perhaps I would have blown the software to smithereens!]

Happy reading!

Here is a little bit of my latest novel, currently entitled The Plan.


It is intended for adult consumption so not much of it will be pasted here, as I am aware that children and preteens also view this blog, following other books or series of books that I have written or which are currently underway. So relish the little bits that I can post!


Suzie regarded her companion with wide eyes. None of her friends spoke like this, it was not the type of conversation she was used to having but she liked the honesty of it, the cut and dried truthfulness.


Now to other news. As you are aware, Volume IV of The Owners has been recently released. Volume V and VI will follow shortly as both have been written. Split Decisions is awaiting an agent and The Trouble with Mellillia, Ascension and The Boy Who Saved Pigeons are currently on hold until The Plan is finished.


Early next year I will begin work on The Owners once more and hope to fire off Volumes VII and VIII.
I'll let you know if there are any changes to this plan!


[Oh and in between times I will be trying to fit in a life!]


Happy reading!

Hello!


I am now on Chapter 3 of my newest novel. Its working title is The Plan but that will no doubt change as the story progresses.


It is a little more introspective than I thought it would be but I 'get' the character now and I see where she is coming from. Some of you may identify with her...she is all of us and each and every woman that we pass in the street without really noticing. That woman who once was a person before life and circumstances sucked the joie de vivre from her existence...Let's just say she is about to get it back in a major way.


Anyway, for your delectation here is a little bit from Chapter 3. No doubt by the end it will be elaborated on and changed beyond recognition but here it is in the raw:-

She refilled the dogs’ water bowls and gave them both a treat but when her hands reached automatically for the biscuit barrel she pulled them back as if stung. She had seen him not so long ago. He hadn’t seen her though, he was too wrapped up in the woman by his side. And of course the new woman was everything she was not…slim, youthful, vibrant, childfree and without a care in the world. If Suzie could have placed a bet on it, she would have bet that her knickers were hot bubblegum pink and that her bikini line had follicles which had been beaten into submission.

She had frozen when she had seen them, arm in arm wandering around the shops as if the reality of them had turned her to stone. That thought had brought another, unkinder, one as companion. In Arabic countries they stone women like her, she had thought.

I watched Saving Mr Banks the other night. I wasn't looking forward to the film and it certainly wasn't my choice but even so I enjoyed it immensely.


You see I had erroneously been told that it was about the making of Mary Poppins by Mr Walt Disney but in actual fact it was about so much more than that... Within minutes it became clear that it was about the author's own childhood and how she had striven to find a meaning in her father's death, which she had witnessed at an early age. For her, this was not just a story full of light and jollity but instead had the gravitas of a psychological interpretation of how families can be drawn tighter or fall apart or in very rare instances, perform both feats simultaneously.


The real plot of the film as I understood it, was to show a woman writer who was staunch in her belief of how her characters should be portrayed and her writing integrity upheld. At the very end we heard the real voice of the author, her prim, properly enunciated tones allowing or disallowing changes to the manuscript for its celluloid interpretation. It brought a lump to my throat.


We are all so much more than we seem on first glance. Long live Mary Poppins!


P.S. My new novel Split Decisions is now finished. I hope it will be out soon.