Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts

Monday, 23 March 2015

Sheryl's Lovely Blog Hop! #LLm #HLP

I’ve been challenged by Sue Moorcroft to join in the Lovely Blog Hop to share some of the things that have helped shape my writing and my life.

You can find links at the end of the post to other writers I find inspiring. Firstly though, I’d like to thank Sue, not only for the nomination, but for being one of those inspiring writers. Sue’s novel, Starting Over, was one of the first Choc Lit books I read. From there I devoured a fair few. Good job Choc Lit’s heroes are like chocolate – irresistible. Thanks to Sue and those other Choc Lit authors, I discovered the perfect ingredients to make up a Choc Lit book and I’m super-pleased to now be following in their footsteps. My own book, The Rest of My Life, comes soon – from Choc Lit!   

First Fond Memory 

Lying on my back in the garden on a warm sunny day, making castles in the sky. I think I was about five. I was obviously a dreamer, even then.

Books 

Ah, books. My love of books, or rather awe of, came from my father. An avid reader, he could often be found scowling over the cover of one of his books if you dared look as if you were about to turn over a corner of a page on the book you might be reading. Aaaargh! Sacrilege! Books were to be treated with respect and woe betide anyone who did otherwise. I must admit I can empathise with that now I know the many, many hours of love poured into the writing. My dad's favoured author, though, Charles Dickens, was perhaps a bit heavy reading for a five-year old dreamer, so I tended to go more for Enid Blyton and, dare I say, the ‘Just William’ books by Richmal Crompton, which I borrowed from the library. I have no idea why, except that I was perhaps a bit of a tomboy (my football was tucked under my arm while I was lying in that garden dreaming). From there I went on to read such books as Lord of the Flies by William Golding and A Kestrel for a Knave by Barry Hines. Yup, definitely a bit of a tomboy.

Lately, a book that stays with me is The Memory Book by Rowan Coleman. When I first picked this up, I peeked under the cover, read the first few pages, and then snapped it shut and stared at it as if the contents might leap out and bite me. The subject matter is early onset Alzheimer’s Disease, a subject I have close personal experience of and one which is terribly difficult to write engagingly about. I was intrigued to see how the author handled it. I am pleased to say she did it with sensitivity, tenderness and quiet humour. It’s a beautiful, poignant story turning around the love that binds mother and daughter together, and one I would love to have written, though I doubt I could have done it quite so skilfully.

Libraries 

Heaven, particularly when you come from a large family. There wasn’t a lot of money to splash about between six children, so the library was my lifeblood and my sanctuary. It was there that I seized upon a book by Marika Cobbold: Guppies for Tea (I was a bit older then!), at the forefront of which is a young woman’s relationship with her grandmother. That book stayed with me. I remember thinking, I want to write like that. I found my first Kathy Lette book soon after, which led me to buy all of her sharply witty books, and from there I went on to read such fabulous authors as Marian Keyes, whose first book, Watermelon, I simply loved. Her books tend to deal with modern ailments, but are always written with compassion and humour, which is now something I strive to do myself. Without libraries to hide away in, I doubt the writing bug would ever have bitten.

What’s Your Passion?

Apart from writing, dogs. Disabled dogs, to be precise. I foster all sorts of odd dogs. Three legs or four, one eye or two, they’re all the same to me. I simply give then what they need: love.


Learning

I was lucky enough to get chosen to attend an art and design school when I was eleven (art was my thing – good job really. I was hopeless at maths!). I was terribly shy, however, and didn’t think I particularly excelled at anything. It was there that my English teacher, possibly seeing someone who needed a little confidence boost, marked up one of my essays as excellent. It worked. I started to believe in myself and my writing then. Early motherhood meant further education was cut short but, being determined (or stubborn, I’m not sure which), I have finally now completed my MA in Creative Writing. It’s only taken me the odd bazillion years or so!

Writing 

To quote Sue, I truly think writing is a compulsion. While some might not have a burning desire to put pen to paper, everyone has a story to tell. As a writer you get into the habit of people watching, wondering about their lives, loves and passions. For instance, while I was at a hospital recently, where I found myself having to wait around a lot, I encountered an elderly gentleman. Nothing spectacular about that you might say, but … Well, let me describe him. His hair was gunmetal grey, streaked silver. He wore a blue, pin-striped suit, a waistcoat, from which dangled a gold pocket-watch chain, a white shirt and tie. He used a walking cane, but didn’t have a limp. What struck me most, though, were his shoes. Highly polished and neatly laced, the sole of one of them hung loose and flapped as he walked. Now, he surely has a story to tell.

Thanks for reading!

Other awesome authors I’ve nominated are:




Keep safe all!

Lots of love,


Share/Bookmark
07:0020 comments