Writers crave good reviews even more than they crave chocolate cake or a really fantastic pen. This is the first one I got, dug up from the archives…
I admit it, I’m a page-corner turner-overer*. I know this crime is almost equivalent to murder in the eyes of dedicated bookmark users, but I have my reasons.
Books are such tactile things; they feel good in your hands and all those wonderful words you are holding up have a pleasing weight. I like my books to feel like they are being read. The books I read over and over again know they are loved because the edges of their pages don’t lie flat, and the spines are flexible and crooked with affection. There might be the ring of a tea-mug stain on the cover. Or a red circle from a wine glass. The crevices might be crackly with sand where I’ve read on the beach, or the pages warped with water where I’ve read in the bath.
My favourite books have a physical personality all of their own and bear the scars of my love. (The one shown above is my copy of ‘Northern Lights’ by Phillip Pullman.)
Which was why I felt truly happy to find
So awesome to hear that my lovely Blackwood book is still sending out ripples and appearing in dreams! I remember the first young girl who read it, aged 14, reporting that she’d had nightmares – but ‘good ones’!
This morning I woke up from a dream I could not remember, save that part of it was the haunting poem from Jo Danilo’s ‘The Blackwood Crusade’.
It is a very touching poem. Here is is in full.
‘Tis just the beginning of you and me
As we wander by the stream.
You on one side, I on the other,
Just water in between.
I’ll sing to you as time goes by,
As winter melts to spring.
As flowers bloom, and die again,
So to life we’ll cling.
I’ll sing to you as the river floods,
And we’re poured into the sea.
And then I’ll hold you in my arms
This is the song that the joint hero, Silas, sings to his baby sister, a strangely precocious and magical infant who seems to come, like the rest of Silas’ family, to a tragic end in the river.
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My new book, a time-travelling romance, is off to a cracking start with a note from my lovely editor, Malcolm
When somebody totally gets what you were trying to say, understands how your world works, and bonds with characters you gave birth to, it’s like a little bit of sparkly magic.
Here’s the prologue from my new book, a scary YA Paranormal Romance – Groundhog Day… but on a dark street… with a murderer.
Currently seeking publisher. Contact High Spot Literary for details
She sits beside me on the sofa, close but not quite touching. Her hand rests, clenched, on her knee, inches from my own. I daren’t reach for it because I know she’ll flinch. The lights from the TV illuminate her face and flash like fireworks in the darkness of her eyes, reminding me of another place, different lights. I lean back so I can watch her without her knowing.
We’ve only been officially seeing each other for a few weeks and I’m trying my best to act cool about it. It’s incredibly difficult. She sets off explosive charges inside me with just one look. My heart is constantly stuck in my throat. Every rare smile I win from her is a small victory.
The old fairy stories are not known for their strong female roles. Off the top of my head, there seem to be four main types of women who constantly appear…