Here's to 2016!

I hope you are all enjoying the holidays. I am busy packing up my old house and transferring stuff to the new one, as we moved home about a week ago. It is dusty, hard work but I have to admit to loving every minute of it. Like a snake, I feel as if I am shedding a skin and renewing myself as I go along.
 
This past year has been hard but not necessarily bad and there have been many, many high points. It has been a time of challenge, of discovery, an awakening, if you like... a...nd now I know that is set to continue into the coming year.

 
So here is the sales pitch - what you didn't see it coming? If you haven't yet bought one of my books, you are severly missing out!
If you need convincing check out my reviews.
 
And because recently I was asked what I have coming in the near future and for what audience, here is a small list of just some of the books in line to be published:-
 
The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons - young adult/crossover drama
Dancing Feat -chick lit
Ascension -dark, dystopian, paranormal sci-fi
Saving Grace - children's book
The Trouble With Mellillia - children's
The Letter - chick lit
plus the next three volumes in The Owners

There are others coming too. not yet finished but getting along on their way.

So until then - 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!

Merry Christmas!

A few weeks ago I made my annual pilgrimage to Scotland. I drove for over six hours in a car that was packed fuller than a sardine tin, with me, two teenagers, one pre-teen, two largish dogs, and a mound of luggage which included a mini-fridge [so that we could have cold milk for our cereal, at the Travelodge where we were staying].

And this year, as indeed it had the year before, and the year before that, the Glasgow Motorway [as I like to call it in my technical way] snared me, savaged me and spat me back out in a whimpering heap.

Every single year I get to a point just outside of Glasgow where the motorway signs seem to indicate that I should travel in two opposing directions at once, in order to arrive at my chosen destination. At this point, ever cool headed, I resort to my usual asking of the kids, “Which way, left or right?” and when no answer is forthcoming, I resort to yelling, eyes wide and wild, little veins of red showing through the whites, “WHICH WAY DO I GO? OH DEAR GOD I’VE GONE THE WRONG WAY!”

And this year was no different. Except for one notable exception. I took the wrong exit as usual, knowing that I always did but unable to actually remember which one was the right one… But partway through trying to rectify it and get back onto the motorway, I actually recognised the landmarks due to the fact that I had gone wrong at exactly the same spot the previous occasion and the one before that and the…

This, if nothing else proved a point - I am not beyond learning. Perhaps not enough to stop myself from making the mistake in the first place, but at least enough not to compound the issue when I do.

This was particularly obvious when I had to drive into the centre of Glasgow and found that there was a strange one-way system going on which meant that at all times you could see where you wanted to get to, but couldn’t physically get there unless you suddenly and inexplicably acquired the strength of Atlas and lifting the car aloft on one shoulder, were able to hoist it through pedestrian areas and the wrong way up one way-streets.

So why don’t I use a map or a sat-nav? Well the answer to the satellite navigation conundrum lies buried in a previous column and as for the map… The truth is that I am a Glaswegian by birth, so I kind of have this belief that I can find my way around, if not by memory, then by osmosis, where I basically absorb the knowledge unconsciously from strangers passing by. Hey why not? – They are Glaswegian, I am Glaswegian – can’t you catch knowledge like you do the common cold?

Apparently not! Maybe this Christmas I will treat myself to a map… then again perhaps that would just ruin the annual adventure.

Merry Christmas!

Moving!

Ok so here's where it's at... my back is all healed thank goodness and now in fact I think it was a strange virus as others are telling me they have had the same thing.

The house is getting packed up relatively easily.... and I have been moving some stuff to the new house every day for about a week as I am having to be there for various workmen anyway.

Tomorrow I am moving my high heels in - that's a feat [pun intended] in itself. And on Sunday and Monday we will do the actual move with the movers.

I have the laminate for the lounge and hallway arriving on Tuesday so no Zumba that day unless I can shimmy whilst unpacking [there's a thought!]

There's a workman coming on Wednesday to fit the laminate, decorate the lounge and do lots of other things. Since he isn't Superman he will be there for a few days I guess but the house will be completely done before Christmas.

As you know it had been my intention to do it myself but to be perfectly honest he will do a better job and I will live longer without the stress. I will be bagging up and getting rid of lots of things during this process and actually can't wait.

For the rest of my plans, well you will just have to keep reading this blog, won't you?

 

In  the meantime, treat yourself and buy one of my books.

Here's a review just in from a gentleman called Peter Gagen.

"Recently, at a local village gala in Droitwich Spa, I had the good fortune to meet Carmen Capuano. Carmen is a self publishing new author who was selling her books from her stall. Intrigued, I purchased a book - The Owner Volume one.
I was so taken. I have already read book two on my Kindle and could not resist contacting Carmen to get book three.
The Owner Volume one is the first in a Si-Fi series that starts an adventure that will keep you turning the pages. It's short chapters make for an easy enthralling read. You will want to know about what happens next. Believe me you won't want to put it down.
The story is set in a strange future and follows San and Loni as they move away from their comfortable lives in a 'kept' future. Lives that are very different from ours. It's alive with the discoveries they make, along the journey they take. The story will end with you wanting to know more and get the next in the series. It has me!
(you will have to read the book to understand what 'kept' means - no spoilers here!)"

Thank you so much Peter!

More information!

As I am trying to move house as well as finish the current book, please excuse my brevity here.

 

I got this comment on my blog : "Hi read book one - no review yet - book two read on kindle now need books 3 & 4. Just missed your Fairfield event when is the next one? ☺"

In answer to your question, Peter Gagen, the next one will be on the 11th of this month, details to follow.

I have also been asked yesterday by the Major of Solihull to attend an event she is organising, again details to follow.

 

In the meantime - Happy Reading!

Review time!

I've put my back out, so currently I am walking around like an eighty-five year old and getting more and more annoyed with myself.

However this came through on LinkedIn yesterday: "Carmen, have begun The Owners, Vol.1. You certainly can write! Best. John." Ok it's rather straight to the point but it's still a great message to receive. And since the gentleman in question is a professor and Senior Research Fellow at the Institute of English Studies, it's rather a pat on the back!

So my question is this: how long is it going to take you to discover my books? Eyeballs to the right, quick march! Now click on the link! Be brave - you only live once.

Happy Reading!

A little bit of The Letter

I am so far behind it's unbelievable and with Christmas now breathing down my neck, I'm struggling to catch up. So today I have ignored everything else and fed my heart, working on The Letter, which is almost completed.

Here is the latest paragraph:-

He sounded seriously perturbed but not for the reason he ought to have been, she suspected. “You joshing me lady?” he enquired.

“No, Sonny, I’m not ‘joshing’ you,” she reiterated his vernacular back at him. Those words, the sentiment they conveyed, everything was so alien. Here in the middle of a hospital car park, relaying this sort of information over a phone whilst a former boyfriend and the love-child of her dead husband looked on…what could possibly be surreal about that?

Poor Fran. But there's a light at the end of the tunnel...she just has to get there.

Happy Reading.

Don't forget I am attending several fayres in the lead up to Christmas. Come get your signed copy of Split Decision or The Owners series.

Coming Event

On the 26th November I will be selling signed copies of Split Decision at the Christmas Fayre at Lordswood Girls' School in Birmingham. 3.30-5.30

There will be the usual variety of stalls and I will be happy to talk about my writing and characters to all passers-by. Hope to see you there.

 

Happy Reading!

Here's another review

Another Split Decision review just in :-

"Loved 'Split Decision' by Carmen Capuano. Started it before I went to bed and did not stop till I had finished it!" Mrs Doreen Stoneham.

This came via my email from a lady who had bought my book for her mum and now wants to read it herself... clearly the whole family has good taste.

Many thanks Mrs Stoneham.

Lord of the Flies at the Birmingham REP

A couple of nights ago I was invited by the Birmingham REP to attend the production of the stage adaptation of the William Golding classic, "Lord of the Flies."

I remember this story from my schooldays... I think I was around twelve when I studied the book and  had loved it in its entirety. Thirty-seven years on, I wondered if it would affect me as strongly as it had back then, and whether it would translate well to a theatre performance. I now know I needn't have been concerned at all.

The performance was electrifying! I was completely gripped by the high octane, high energy performances from a group of young men who riveted my attention from their very first moment on stage, until the thunderous applause at the end.

The adaptation was totally compelling, the acting superb and the attention to detail magnificent. I won't spoil it for you here by telling how they managed certain of the trickier elements of the storyline, suffice it to say that the audience were left in no doubt as to what was going on, why it was being perpetrated and exactly by whom.

I had a prime seat close to the stage but even at the back, the REP is such a beautifully designed theatre that it has an almost intimate feel.

So thank you to the Birmingham REP and also to the cast of the production who turned out not only to be fine actors but very pleasant, modest young men into the bargain. As for the young Glaswegian who played 'Piggy', I must say that his regional dialect was fantastic!

I had a great time and rest assured that I will be back.

Coming event

On Thursday 3rd December you will find me at The Swan pub in Fairfield from 6-8pm.

I will be selling signed copies of my books and will be available to chat about books, writing, Christmas or almost anything! [I do love to chat!]

There will be a variety of stalls selling everything you could need for Christmas and the festive season, including gift ideas and of course you will be able to partake in some mulled wine and mince pies whilst you are there... so see you then!

Until then - Happy Reading!

Another review.

Here is another review for Split Decision:-

What they say:

How was Natalie to know that the decision she was about to make between two potential dates, would forever be a pivotal point in her life? That it would mark the time where childhood innocence ended? How could she even imagine that the wrong decision would send her life spiralling into the stuff of nightmares from where she might not come out alive? Life takes a cruel twist of fate when Natalie, a completely average [almost] 16 year old, is forced to make a split-second decision... a decision that will change her future and forever alter her perception of trust, love and the realities of life.

 

What we say - review by Nikki Mason:

I have to say that this is one of the darkest young adult books I’ve ever reviewed. That’s not necessarily a criticism, but there were times when I felt like a little relief was needed. Having said that, the intensity and increasing sense of danger and horror were both incredible.

Natalie is a very privileged, innocent fifteen-year-old. While shopping with her best friend she is asked out on two dates and must make the choice of which one to accept. Only, she doesn’t know quite how significant that choice will be, a choice that could strip away her cosy life forever.

Natalie is a great character and it’s so interesting to follow her progress throughout one important evening in two separate scenarios. The story splits into two “what ifs” once she has picked her date so readers can see the consequences of either decision, and boy, are there some consequences! It’s a clever format and very intricately plotted but in both evenings the fear and violence never feel far away. It’s a challenging and often uncomfortable read and not for the faint-hearted but well worth a look if you’re after some true grit.

Here is the link http://bestchicklit.com/?p=8783

Happy Reading!

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! ;)

BritAsia versus Women of the Year

As you may know, I went to both of these award ceremonies which happened within a few days of each other, and yet which were strikingly different.

Some of that difference was down to the type of awards they were, BritAsia being music based and the Women of the Year being about achievement in the fields of business and personal accomplishment.

Whilst you would expect the BritAsia awards to be more flamboyant [which they were] because it was dealing with entertainment, as well as the fact that it was an evening ceremony, as opposed to the Women of the Year, which took place in the afternoon, there were many other differences which weren't so easy to account for.

One of these [and I know I am crossing over into political territory here] was the lack of Caucasian faces at the BritAsia awards. As far as I could tell I was the only white person there. Now you might be shaking your head and thinking, 'silly Carmen, the clue was in the title of the awards Brit...Asia,' but come on readers, in this day and age where interracial marriage is so common in Britain, was there not one Asian man or woman in attendance who had married outside of his religion/ethnicity? Or not one 'white' best friend who had chosen to accompany his or her friend to the awards? Apparently not!

The Women of the Year was very different with attendees who were from all racial backgrounds sitting together. But please don't assume from this that I am advocating segregation, for I am not and never would. The point I am intending to make is actually quite the reverse.

As the possibly only 'white' person at the BritAsia awards, and indeed the only white female, I was in a rather unique position. But not once was I made to feel uncomfortable or ill at ease. The men in particular were courteous and the women charming. No one shunned me and everyone was polite and chatty. Even the gentleman in the orange suit who reminded me of my dad when he was younger [he liked to dress rather colourfully] who I very untactfully informed that, 'not many people can carry orange off but you are going a great job!' [He turned out to be one of the biggest Asian music producers and instead of being offended, he laughed and laughed and posed for pictures from the professional photographer, insisting I was included. I am only able to tell you about it now, after the embarrassment on my gaffe has allowed my face to finally cool down.]

Similarly at the Women of the Year awards I made another gaffe, asking a very stunning blonde if she was Michelle Mone [well she looked like her to me]. The lady almost collapsed with laughter before saying that no, she wasn't but that they were sitting on the same table...I spent most of the event thereafter trying to avoid catching her eye because every time I did I set her off on gales of laughter again for some reason.

At the start of this blog post I wanted to tell you about the clothes the women wore, but just like in real life I have gone off on a tangent, so I must return now. The Asian women's clothes were spectacular. There is really no other word for it. Deep reds and pastel pinks, vibrant purples and sea-deep blues - there was a dress of every colour and shade imaginable and the decoration on each gown was sublime. Beads and pearls, crystals and sequins, or embroidery with blood red threads or sun-gold ones. Each dress was better than the one before.

Sexy, cut off the shoulder, tight and fitted or swirling around like a cloud, sari and evening dress, I stood enviously looking at each one and wondering if I was too old/fat/white or indeed all three to have worn it. And the Asian women were so pretty - ok not all of them, for that would have been impossible but on the whole they were incredibly attractive with fine cheekbones and oval eyes. Funny how the men weren't as handsome on a scale of 1-10 as their womenfolk...sorry guys but there it is!

So now to the Women of the Year. Yes it was a completely different thing and of course it was during the day... but the hotel it was staged in was beautiful, the ceremony was snazzy and the food superb. But where were the elegant dresses, the clothing that might have been more appropriate to an awards ceremony than the ubiquitous black trousers and dressy top? Come on ladies of Britain, where is your style, your sexiness, your alluring attire? Where is your pizzazz?

Don't get me wrong - as I have told you often before, I am most likely to be found in jeans and wellies, hair up and no make-up on during the working week, but I do like to dress up when the occasion demands. And surely an award ceremony is one of those times?

So Britain, take a long hard look at your wardrobe the next time you are due to go out to an event. Maybe, just maybe, those trousers can take a break and that dress [you know the one I mean, the one you bought for that wedding reception but didn't have the nerve to wear] can have a turn instead.

Get behind me Ladies of Britain as I lead the charge for a more glamorous Britain, one where we can wear our diamonte drop earings and beaded dresses with pride. But until then,

Happy Reading ;)

Photo courtesy of GEM Media and Magazine.

Full Steam Ahead!

I am a little behind [that made me laugh, writing that for some reason] but I am doing my very best. I promise as soon as I can, I will fill you in on what I thought of the Women of the Year Awards, the play Anita and Me and any other events I haven't yet written up.

After all, I only have a whole house to clean, another to decorate, the contents of one house to pack up, the remaining half of the newest book to write, five more to edit...oh and an entire magazine to sort...what could possibly be taking up all of my time?

Happy Reading!

Horror on a sunny day?

I am just beyond the halfway point in The Letter now. The sun is shining through my window and directly at me, so I am typing this with one eye closed. Perhaps it's just as well for I am at a rather creepy bit...

Although this is not a horror story, there is a dream sequence which is rather significant. Here it is:-

Sleep came suddenly and without warning, transporting her to a meadow which was lush and green. There was a picnic spread out on a yellow checkered blanket. It was a horrible shade of yellow, jaundiced and sickly and she wondered who could possibly have wanted to buy it.

Sandwiches over spilled plates and other dishes held relishes and chutneys. There were quiches and sweet pastries and a plump strawberry flan. She turned in all directions but there was no-one around. The sun was beating down on her and it seemed a terrible shame to let all of the food spoil.

She sat down on the blanket and without cutting the flan or reaching out towards it, there was suddenly a large slice in her hand, jam sliding off the side of the pastry and dribbling down her arm, thick, red and viscous.

She opened her mouth, ready to receive the treat but before a morsel passed her lips she caused to look downwards. The pastry was crawling with big, fat bugs. They jostled one another for space in the jam and wriggled out of holes in the strawberry.

Repulsed, Fran threw the slice as far away as she could. The whole picnic was alive! Squirming and writhing and thrashing in the chutney and falling of the mounds of sandwiches in glutinous, struggling masses, black insectile carapaces intertwined with white gelatinous sheathes, adults and offspring contesting for something she didn’t want to imagine.  She shrank back from the food and the blanket it lay upon.

As if they were aware of her presence, the insects appeared to chase her, running towards where she stood, their short, hard bodies click-clacking as they moved, antennae clawing at the air. At the edge of the blanket they stopped. As one they shuddered as if something terrible prevented their onward charge. Whatever it was that had halted their progress could surely only be worse than them…

Fran looked over her shoulder.

There was a hill behind her. She hadn’t noticed it before. Or perhaps it hadn’t been there.

Over the hill a figure staggered towards her. Too far away and with the sun shining directly in her eyes she had at first to squint to see who it was. But before her eyes could attest to what they were seeing, her head - or perhaps it was her heart - spoke directly to her. You know who he is, don’t you? You already know who he is and what he wants.

Tattered, dirty clothing flapped around his emaciated form and where skin should have provided a covering of flesh over his abdomen, there was none. Instead, putrid, flaccid, decaying organs spewed forth from his gut and were dragged along the ground in his wake.

Will you be brave enough to read my other books? I wonder...

I was at the Women of the Year Luncheon Awards yesterday and was completely blown away by one of the speakers.

Michelle Mone took me completely by surprise, both during her speech and in our conversation afterwards. So much so, that next week, when I have time to catch my breath, I will sit down and tell you exactly why.

In the meantime can I say thank you so much, to those who bought my book or downloaded it on the day, and an especially big thanks to Sam who came back for the newest book, Split Decision, after having bought my first book from me the last time I was at the event.

So for you Sam and all you others - Happy Reading.

It's raining outside. Cold, wet raindrops keep bashing themselves against my window as if demanding to be let in.

The weather is no reflection on how I feel, however it does seem to be raining in sympathy with the problems of my main characters, in my newest, unfolding novel.

Fran is discovering there is a lot more going on around her than she had thought possible. Just how much is one woman supposed to take before she breaks, I wonder?

Here in this excerpt that I have just written, she finds out another unpalatable truth...

Danni was silent but her eyes betrayed a determination Fran was sure wouldn’t be shaken. How do I get through to her? “Look I know that you will want to see him, but as your mother I need to know where you are and who you are with.” She tilted the girl's chin so that their eyes were level. “Do you understand that?”

Some of the fire left the girl’s face but the unrelenting sorrow and hurt which replaced it, was no easier for Fran to see. “What if we agreed when would be suitable for you to see him?”

Danni blinked slowly and when her eyes reopened they seemed somehow different to Fran, as if a sly intelligence lurked there.

 

Happy Reading!

OOOOHHH!

I am so, so excited!

Last night I was at the BritAsia awards ceremony, in a VIP seating area at a table close to the stage, after a session of meeting and greeting the stars.

What a wonderful experience! And I met some fabulously creative people. More about that later when the photos arrive.

Today, I am brimming over with excitement at my invitation to attend the Women of the Year Luncheon Awards next week, both for the event and accompanying meal and also to perform book signings. http://www.womenoftheyear.org.uk/ Little 'ol me who walks the dogs in her scruffy jeans, no makeup on and her hair in a pony tail...who'd have thought it?

So today, when I am painting the ceilings of my filthy new house and cleaning the bathrooms of my not-quite-so-filthy old house, I shall be singing to myself. And the tune I will be singing, well I'll let you guess that one!

Happy Reading! x

The sun will come out tomorrow...

Tomorrow I shall be attending the BritAsia TV World Music Awards...I am rather excited.

I'll let you know how it goes!

Another Review.

On the eve of the official Split Decision launch, here is another review:-

"What can I say... I could not put Split Decision down. From the moment I began reading it to the end it held my attention 100%. I was totally engrossed in the book. The Characters were amazing and I felt so emotional at times when reading that I felt I was Natalie. Your storytelling was sheer brilliance. Would love to see this televised as an English drama. It was the perfect book for me to take on holiday." Catherine Phelan.

The Letter

How do you tell your daughter that years ago her father had an affair? Here in the chapter I am currently writing, Fran attempts to break the news to Danni...

“Years ago, when you were only little… your dad and I weren’t getting along. I was busy with you and my mother was ill. Your dad was going through a difficult time at work and having to work away a lot. I guess both of us were distracted.” She wanted to add that her distractions had been more valid than Jim’s, but didn’t.

“What are you saying mum? That dad left you for a while?” Danni asked, her voice a surprised staccato.  

Fran shook her head. She wished it had been that simple. “He didn’t leave. Well not physically…” she clenched her fingers into her palms, feeling the nails bite into the soft flesh, willing the pain to carry her through the awful news she was about to impart.

I hope you are enjoying keeping up with this emerging story.

Happy Reading!

The Letter

Here is the paragraph I have just written [yes I actually AM working today] in my lastest novel. I hope you like it:

The journey was agony, each mile covered bringing her closer to her nemesis, each twist and turn of the route seeming to parallel the shifts in her life, the sudden and almost inexplicable changes of direction.

What would this Cherie be like? The name conjured up a very explicit image in her head: short, tight skirt with high heels, a flurry of too-yellow, dyed hair framing a face that was heavily made up, yet still pretty. Attractive in an explicitly sexual, in-your-face sort of way. She would have ‘boobs’ not breasts, and they would be perched high on her narrow rib-cage, permanently on display in a top that was at least one size too small… she would be everything that Fran herself was not.

Political Envy

Last night, in a social setting, I met the lovely Gisela Stuart, MP. I haven't met too many MPs before, so I guess like most of the population I had a preconceived notion of what might lie beneath the public façade.
 
What I found was a thoroughly nice lady who was able to hold her own without sacrificing her feminine touch. I was really impressed.
 
So I was delighted when she expressed an interest in Split Decision and left with a signed copy. What can I say? Apart from all her other attributes, she clearly has excellent taste.
 
Let's hope she really enjoys it!
 
Happy Reading Gisela!

The Finer Things in Life.

Two nights ago with a glass of fine champagne in my hand, I watched the sun set from the balcony of the penthouse suite in the Rotunda.

With a view across the city which was completely unhampered by the waist-high glass safety-barrier, I watched the sky turn crimson in the distance, before finally slipping beyond the edge of the world and I was reminded of a paragraph in one my Owners books:

    "The horizon had been full of promise. Now the pink sky which hovered overhead reminded her of nothing more than a sky which harboured malevolent intent.
    Under that watchful blood sky, she made her way back to her group of fellow conspirators."

Luckily there was no malevolent intent in the real situation, in fact nothing could have been further from the truth.

But as gorgeous as the interior of the apartment was, with floor to ceiling windows in every room affording that unbroken view, it was Birmingham itself which captivated me, drawing me out onto the balcony and holding me there as witness to its strange beauty.

When I had arrived it had been light and people scurried across the ground below like ants, some hurrying, some mooching along with unknown agendas - all of them criss-crossing each other's paths in a constant stream. Steel and glass buildings reflected the sunlight and there was a sense that Birmingham, once old and tired, had found a fresh lease of life in its new, modern, structures. And yet in the distance there was a lush greenness of leafy suburbs, a thing I hadn't anticipated at all, such was the wide-ranging view available.

Once the sun went down everything changed and the city came to life in a new and even more exciting fashion, neon lights flickering and dancing across the horizon. And still I stood outside, entranced and mesmerised in a way I hadn't expected to be.

So if you do decide to follow my footsteps to stand on the balcony, champagne in your hand, take a moment to look down...one of those scurrying little ants might just be me!

A new review.

Here is the latest Split Decision review which has come in:

"Split Decision is one of the most enticing books I have ever read. I couldn't wait to immerse myself in it every night. An absolutely brilliant book! Thoroughly recommended!"

 

Zena Weeks, Special Projects Manager, England Athletics.

 

 

I'm so glad you liked it Zena! Thank you!

 

Poor, poor Fran...

I really feel for the main character in my latest book. Her name is Fran and her husband has just died under the most horrible of circumstances. But as if that is not enough, misery upon misery is being heaped on the poor woman's shoulders.

Here is the paragraph I have just written:

 The house seemed wrong in every way possible. It felt too big, too empty and too full of memories - sad and happy ones – and it seemed that no distinction between the two could ever make her smile again.

There was a letter lying on the mat. Addressed to Jim, it would of course no longer be opened by the person for whom it had been intended. Fran bent and picked it up, running her finger over the little plasticised window which allowed the name and address of the recipient to show through, as if some lingering trace of Jim could be found in those printed words.

The white envelope was not bulky, containing perhaps only one printed sheet. She carried it with her into the kitchen.


Oh dear God, I know what she is about to read in that letter...

Just so you know what I look like... sometimes, on a good day, when I am wearing make-up and am happy...

Women of the Year Awards!

I am so excited I can barely stand still!

I have been asked to do a book signing at the  Women of the Year Awards ceremony!

http://www.womenoftheyear.uk.com/

When I did this before, a couple of years ago, there were a multitude of famous faces at the event and this year will be no exception, with Michelle Mone as this year's speaker, along with Baroness Stedman-Scott as keynote speaker.

It can be daunting chatting to these impressive, powerful ladies who have made such a huge impact on industry and commerce, as well as on our daily lives, in ways that we often don't stop to think about, as role models and innovators in their fields.

Indeed the event will be rammed with women who have risen to the top of their particular industries, and for them, there can be nothing better than knowing that they got there on their own merits. I hope one day I will be joining their ranks!

But it is Ms Mone who I am most eager to chat to, both as a woman and as a fellow Glaswegian... I wonder what her particular reading-taste will prove to be...

I'll keep you posted!

A Little Bit...

Here is a little bit from book I am currently working on. Such a hard chapter to write...such huge emotions...


“Sometimes towards the end,” she hesitated, “he was almost like a baby. I had to change him in the middle of the night. Either he was drenched in a sulphurous sweat or he had wet himself in his delirium…it wouldn’t have been right to involve his sister when he was like that,” she ended sadly.
“I wasn’t just his sister, I was his twin Fran,” Alison reminded her, as if she might have forgotten.
“Yes I know. And that was why he made me promise not to let you see him like that…” Just how many revelations were going to come out this fateful night, Fran wondered.
I have a splitting headache from the tension of writing this chapter and my heart is broken.

Here it is!

I am overwhelmed!

Thank you so, so much to Elonex in general, and to Pat and Adam in particular, for making this happen.

http://elonexoutdoormedia.co.uk/

A Little Bit of What You Fancy...

You know you want it.

It's what you have been waiting for, for so long.

Now it's here.

And you can have it...

Finally!

Be at the Artwork Café, Edgbaston, B15 on Sept. 30th from 6-8ish.

It's about my book launch... what did you think I was talking about? ;)

That's what I call an ad!

Look out for the huge digital ad for Split Decision if you are on the A38, Aston Expressway. It will be going live tomorrow... oh the excitement is just too much!

My warmest thanks and deepest gratitude to Elonex, the guys who made it all happen.

Music , Maestro, Please!

I have a wide and varied musical taste, ranging from the delightfully soporific Annie's Song by John Denver, through the unashamedly raucous ACDC's Back in Black, to the almost ethereal Jar Of Hearts by Christina Perri. But more often than not it is the lyrics of a song which draws me to it, or perhaps a haunting melody, or in some instances a wonderful combination of the two. Seldom is it the actual voice of the performer which I find captivating.

There are of course instances where this is untrue, but these tend to be reserved for the likes of Celine Dion and Neil Diamond - in other words, unique voices which are so sublime, ringing out so true with every note delivered, that they cannot help but make me stop and listen, not just to the words and the tune, but to the particular tone and timbre of the voice itself.

You may recall that I was  holiday in Spain recently. Whilst there I saw a number of tribute acts but it was one in particular which caught my attention. Wendy Manfield WAS Tina Turner, from the pronounced trademark bottom strut, right down to the mannerisms and the gaudy outfits, and I loved every minute of it, although I must confess to not being a huge Tina Turner fan.

So what captivated me so much about Wendy's performance? It was the realisation that Wendy didn't need to be Tina, that in fact she had a much superior voice of her own. Having performed her show as Tina and returned to the stage after thunderous applause, she gave an encore - but not as the superstar.

Instead she sang two Queen anthems in a way that I have never heard them performed. Passion infused her powerful voice and informed it in such a way that I almost believed her to be the originator of the song. She was nothing short of amazing. And I got to wondering why. Why she was performing as someone else when she was so, so much better than that. So here are the answers...

Wendy where are you originally from?
I'm from Darwen in Lancashire.

How long have you been singing and where did you start?

I started singing professionally 25 years ago.(That's scary.) In the working men's clubs, mainly around the North West of England - Blackpool, Manchester, Liverpool and Yorkshire. Under the wings of my aunt Kay; we were a duo called Diamonds. There was a lot to learn back then. Buying equipment, spending countless days learning how to work it. Going to musicians' studios to get all the sheet music transposed. (There were hardly any backing tracks when i started.)

Working with backing tracks gives a singer more freedom, as it's impossible for keyboards and drums to reproduce sounds exactly on the night. But when a singer plays with musicians, it's uplifting, it makes you sing better and you begin to learn your craft again. You don't realize that you have become a little lazy with backing tracks.

My mother was originally an opera singer and she was insistent that I went for singing lessons. I was amazed how much there was, and still is, to learn. There is always something to inspire you with music.

How did you become a Tina Turner tribute?

I was asked by the owner of a venue here in Benidorm. "Tributes put bums on seats," as he put it, "It's what people want."

Are you a fan?

YES I am a fan. Sorry to say I never saw her live... I love her energy and soulfull rock voice.

How difficult is it to mimic that voice?

Tina's higher register is hard to reach. Some people have said she screams...Ha! You trying screaming and sounding as good as her! Hmmm.

When you start to study a singer you begin to realise just how great they are. I have nothing but respect for Tina Turner. You have to give 100% when doing Tina...because that's what she did every time she recorded or set foot on a stage...you can hear it in her voice.

How long have you been in Spain?

12 years. It's gone very fast and I have seen a lot of changes.....its quiet a transient place.

Do you ever perform as yourself?

Funny you should ask me that question... I only do Tina once a week. My own act is a mix of taking the mickey out of myself in a cheesy kind of way. I do some songs straight. Some people are ready for the funny stuff, while others are just waiting to hear me sing. You can't be everyone's cup of tea. That much I have learned. I just try my best at the venues and I work to entertain everyone. If I was to perform as my self singing the covers that I love to sing, I would probably lose some of the audience.
 

What do you hope the future holds?

If I get off my lazy behind I hope to learn an instrument, perhaps the piano or guitar, so that I can play and sing music -no sequins, no gimmicks, just music.

Can you ever see yourself coming back to Britain?

Honestly? I don't know. I guess, never say never.

With grateful thanks to Wendy Manfield - a real class performer.

 

"3 o'clock in the morning...

and it looks like it's going to be another sleepless night..." to quote Crystal Gayle.

I have been up since three, penning a very painfully sad chapter in my newest novel. It was so sad in fact, that now I have written it, I am utterly bereft.

That's the trouble with writing.The emotions which lend themselves to good writing are draining and so now I am tired. I don't often get up in the middle of the night to write but I had started the chapter earlier today and when I couldn't sleep, I knew what I had to do.

Now it is just after six and I will get up, have breakfast, see the children off to school and begin editing another of my books which is due for publication. Ah back to the good old routine! I love it! Yawn...

Happy Reading.

The Letter

Today I have started back to work and am so relieved. As I told you before, I have to edit a couple of books already written prior to their publication, but I also want to write a book I started some time ago. The story is about a woman whose husband dies of cancer. But just before he does, he reveals something which tears her whole world apart...

Here is a little snippet:-

The Letter

Chapter 1

The house sucked at her energy. It drained her like a thirsty hiker on a hot summer’s day. She could feel it pulling at the blood in her veins, causing tidal waves of that vibrant red life-force to course through her to a never-achieved destination, moving ever onwards, ceaselessly searching out its well-worn pathway.

But of course it was not the house which drained her so. It was the situation within in.

Jim waited for her in another room. Weak and tired, waiting was what he did best now. Waiting was actually all that was left to him. Fran wondered what was left to her. What would be left when Jim was finally gone? A thin smell of sickness which seemed to have pervaded the entire house? The ripe smell of a cancer unchecked, which had permeated the paint and wallpaper of their bedroom? Was that all there would be?

Or would there be memories too? Memories which would linger to haunt her as if the images and sounds were captured within the porous brickwork and plaster, ready to be replayed whenever the whim took them?

It didn’t bear thinking about.  But she didn’t really need to ponder on it. The situation played itself out and she was just a bit player in every scene, the one who was necessary to breathe a little life into each act, to make it real and believable. The only one who would be left standing after the credits rolled and the curtains closed for that final time.

Funny how even after all these months it still didn’t seem real. She flicked the switch on the kettle and waited for it to boil. The kitchen seemed darker than usual and she glanced at the wall clock by the side of the back door. It was in the shape of a cow, mottled black and white paint depicting its legs and head, its torso taken up by the clockface which showed the hour to be six. But six am or pm? She genuinely did not know. The months and weeks since Jim’s diagnosis had blurred into one and in these last few days even the days and nights seemed interchangeable.

So if you enjoyed that little bit, take a look at the books I have already published - you won't regret it.

 

Happy Reading!

 

 

 

Multiverse Me

Have you heard the theories about us living not in a universe, but instead in a multiverse? Many scientists now believe that we live [the me who is writing this post and the you who is reading it] in just one version of countless parallel realities.

It's what fiction writers have always expected of course and the idea has accounted for numerous books and films over the years, where characters suddenly find some sort of portal into another world that's slightly askew from their own.

But according to science, there are not just a couple of these worlds but continuously new and emerging ones, to add to the myriad already spun off. So in one of these worlds for example Carmen Capuano would be married to the first guy who ever asked her, on another there would be a career woman, etcetera, etcetera, each world spun off from the path not taken in this life.

This is in fact the premise of Split Decision - a showing of the other way, the road not taken by Natalie as she made her choice between the two guys. To find out what happens, you will of course need to read the book.

But what concerns me here are all those other versions of me. I feel for them, I really do. They are me and yet not me. Are they happy? Did this current me, the one who writes and is unmarried and lives in Bromsgrove, did she make the right choices?

Strangely enough its a vague worry. I cannot know their circumstances or whether they are ok or not, and indeed I guess in some worlds I would have already died from some illness or accident. And there is a truth that if these theories are correct, in a way it doesn't matter if I make the right choices in life, because that means that some other version of me does, although that might be taking altruism a little too far.

The weirdest thought that all of this has dredged up, is which one is the original me? Am I the one who was born and from that moment spawned a zillion other worlds with my choices and actions? Or instead am I created by the original, spun off like a cheap rendition from that very first split in my own life, perhaps the first childhood sickness I had or even the first time my pregnant mother rushed across a busy road and narrowly avoided an accident?

I will never know. But to those other Carmen Capuanos I would say this if I could, "Good luck and stay strong".

Happy Reading.

Available NOW!

Something in the air...

Do you remember being eight? Cast your mind back to that time all those years ago...
 
It is still dark, the first light of morning has not yet penetrated the deepest, blackest sky and there is a chill in the air.

You are up early, way too early for anyone else in the house to be awake. Every room lies still and quiet, its inhabitants lost in the world of sleep. Only you are awake within the whole house.

You alone are aware that this day will be magical, that this Chritmas will hold everything you ever wanted; that the presents lined up so neatly under the tree are not just mere gifts, trinkets and toys bought from shops and carried home with heavy arms...
 
They are instead the fragments of dreams, gossamer threads of hope and fantasy made real, and bound to the world by love and generosity.
 
Do you remember that feeling, that excitement? That's EXACTLY how I feel right now... and I'm loving every minute of it!

Happy Reading.

 

Destiny Calling!

Do you believe in fate, destiny, preordination? Or do you think its all hogwash, hokum of the worst kind?

I can't say that I believe everything happens for a reason but I do think that some things are pointers to the way ahead...

When the children go back to school I will immediately move onto two separate things. One is to write a novel that has been waiting a long time to be set down on the screen, and the other thing is to edit Ascension, so that the courageous Jess Stone can have her story presented to an audience.

And it was Jess and her tale which was on my mind this morning as I awoke. So imagine my surprise when I saw the name of my newest twitter follower...Alek Cole.

Alex Cole [ok so it is slightly different I grant you] is a key character in Ascension. He is the man whose motives are unknown.
Is the finger of fate pointing? Damn right it is...

Happy Reading!

NEWS!

One of my very first reviews ever, was from a gentleman in Hawaii who raved about The Owners, Volume I, and insisted it should be compulsory reading in schools.
 
I have never forgotten those kind words, and will be eternally grateful, Richard Sommery-Gade. So today I am posting here to say that your comments were perhaps far-seeing.
 
Yesterday, I discovered that my books were being considered for schools not only in England, but in Egypt! So keep your fingers crossed for me folks and I'll let you know what happens.

Happy Reading! 

Press Release.

Bromsgrove author Carmen Capuano will be counting the cars racing by on the Aston Expressway this autumn, when the large digital billboard located there is displaying an advertisement for her latest book.

“I really can’t believe that my novel will be up there for everyone to see – it’s almost beyond my wildest dreams!” said the popular writer. “Thousands of cars pass that spot every day – and now they will see the cover of Split Decision!”

To add further to Carmen’s excitement, WHSmith in Birmingham will be stocking the newly released book on its shelves, facilitating its shoppers’ searches for a good read.

Said Manager Adrian Rankovic of the decision to put Ms Capuano’s novel on display in a prime spot in the window, “We are aware of exactly what our customers are looking for in a book. They want something they can fully immerse themselves in; good writing with a great plot. So if they haven’t already discovered Carmen Capuano for themselves, we are happy to bring her to their attention.”

So things may not quite be “written in the stars” yet for the Midlands author, but they are certainly getting higher in the sky.

Party Time!

Come to my book launch, eat cake and have a good time...

An old memory...

I was in Bromsgrove town today. It had just started to rain heavily as I drove past a particular building, sparking a memory of a talk I gave there around this time last year, so I have reposted it for your amusement.

Here it is...

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. :)