What feeds a writer’s soul?
I love being at my writing desk and I love those days when I
know I can spend a long time there. Yet I also relish the times when I can get out
and about.
It may be something simple, like taking the bus into town to
go to a meeting. I might stroll through the shops or the market and enjoy a coffee
somewhere. These all offer great opportunities for people watching.
I go to a lot of live theatre. The content of it feeds my need for story.
The journey there and back and the waiting times in between again offer the
opportunity to sit and stare.
Occasionally a time away from the desk is more focussed. This week my OH and I went to Hereford for his
annual meet up with his friends from university. It was good catching up and
staying in the lovely Green Dragon Hotel, a genteel old-fashioned sort of place.
We also visited the cathedral, seeing the famous Mapa Mundi,
an extract from the Magna Carta and the chained library. Not to forget the statue
of Elgar and his bicycle.
The journey there and back was pleasant as well. The trains in
both directions were mainly on time and passed through some lovely country
side.
It was good to be back, though.
How does one differentiate between holidays and working time
when you’re doing your dream job? Well on holiday, I stop submitting, I only
deal with essential email – the rest gets deleted, and I’m more passive on social
media. But I still write. I also read a lot. The writing feels a little
different and there is also plenty of opportunity for further feeding my soul.
Writing news
I’m still working on edits of Peace Child 6. I’m currently looking at point of view, making sure
that it’s consistent and if it does zoom in and out, it does it in a reasonable
way.
I’ve had a handful of publications this month. There are
three reviews with Talking about My Generation:
Little
Shop of Horrors and the Octagon
Silence
at Home
Things
I know to Be True at the Whitefield Garrick
Talking about My Generation has also published my article about
my first car: My
First Car, an Hillman Imp Van
My short story, finalist in the WAWA competition is now published:
The
Old Boots . You have to scroll
down to read it but the other stories are worth reading as well.
I’ve also made Prompts 2020 available in my Kofi
shop.
On My Blog
Celebration
Event for the House of Clementine 8 May 2024 is an account of the launch of The House of Clementine. Incidentally, I
still have offers on all of the Peace Child books. Read more here.
I also interview Amanda
Jones about her biography / memoir of her mother, Kathleen. Read more here.
Recommended read
This month I’m recommending Lessons in Chemistry by Wilding by Bonnie Garmus
This is the story of Elizabeth Zott, a scientist who is trying
to establish herself in the 1950s.
She has to fight a lot of prejudice against women and female
scientists in particular. She is an unmarried mother, which was much less acceptable
then that it is now. And she has a wonderful dog, Six-Thirty, who understands a
lot more than many humans.
The characters are well- drawn and colourful. This story
keeps us engaged. And although things are not yet perfect for women we are appreciative
of how much better they are now than they were then.
Bonny Garmus certainly keep us guessing in the story for
Every Woman, Lessons in Chemistry.
Find your copy here.
Note, this is an affiliate
link and a small portion of what you pay, at no extra cost to you, may go to Bridge House Publishing.
Sample pages
If you like what you’re reading you can click through and
find out ways of buying the book. However, I’m still happy to give you a free
copy if you’re strapped for cash and / or you’re willing to review. Just contact me.
This month I’m offering Other
Ways of Being
Dancing to the Moon
The first time I set eyes on Patrick O’Leary what I had
left of a heart almost jumped out of my chest. All I could see to start with
were his soft blond curls I wanted to touch and his smiling blue eyes I wanted
to have looking into mine forever. Then I saw him dance and I knew that I
wanted to be his only dancing partner. For eternity.
I shouldn’t have even been there. I’m only sixteen. They’re
very strict at the Clerkenwell Arms, especially when the Irish dance trials are
on. But it was a new moon that night so I guess I was at my best. Talbot had
warned me that I would still have a monthly cycle of sorts though it would be
very different from before. And spot on, it follows the moon. This is always my
shining day, the day of the new moon.
I’ve been like this for over a year now and I’m getting used
to it. I can never remember the details of the moonless nights, but the next
day I’m always full of energy, and confident and look much older and very
glamorous. So, what with the lipstick, and the short skirt and that bitchy glow
inside, I got in without them even asking for ID. I even bought a glass of wine
for form’s sake. No sweat.
It was the music that made me go in. The music and a need
for some warmth. Some human warmth that is - I don’t notice the winter’s cold
any more. And I guess it was because I was just in that sort of mood. New moon
day. Daredevil day.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he danced. Back and neck
straight. Gaze fixed. Arms rigid by his sides. His feet never missed a beat and
always came down in exactly the right place. My own feet started tapping to the
music.
I used to dance when I was a little girl. Lots of us do. I
never got all that far with it, though I was not at all bad. I just got into
other things. Like you do. But I can still remember all of the steps.
He started dancing around the room. He paused at each table
where any good looking female sat. His feet still worked, of course. I had to
exercise so much self-control not to go over to those hussies and scratch their
eyes out or tear out their hair. He was sweating slightly and his manly,
slightly musky smell was getting to me. There were others in the room, other
good-looking young men, some of whom were also dancers, but I only had eyes –
and a nose for him.
At last he paused by my table and fixed me with his eyes.
Tap, tap, tap tap, tappity tap, went his feet, as if they were asking a
question. A faint smile opened his lips, his eye-brows rose slightly. His
pupils grew large. He was taking me in, was he? The bitch inside smirked but I
tried to keep my gaze neutral. Tapity, tap. Tap tap. He nodded.
I got up from the table. My feet began to work. Yes, I remembered the steps. It was easy,
especially with all this energy. In fact I had to keep it in check a little, or
somebody would have noticed something. I didn’t even break a sweat or get out
of breath. He was breathing hard by now yet he still kept exact time and
rhythm. I loved him for that. I loved him because he was finding it tiring now
and was still being perfect. The smell of him made my head light.
We were close at times. The place was so full there was
barely a dance floor. We almost touched but not quite. As our shoulders and
hands came within inches of each other I felt an exchange of energy. Tingles
crackled through my body and I had the feeling that he gained some energy from
me. We moved lightly around one another, our eyes and our feet in conversation.
This was ecstasy. This I wanted forever. Tap tap tappity tap.
The music stopped. It had to eventually. It felt as though a
thread between us was broken. The crowd in the pub started clapping and
cheering. He was a little out of breath.
“Patrick O’Leary,” he whispered.
“Fyonah McBride,” I whispered back.
Read
more here
The Schellberg Project
The posts may be helpful for teachers who are familiar with
the Schellberg stories or who are teaching about the Holocaust. They may also be interesting for other readers
of historical fiction.
I’m continuing
looking at German resistance during World War II and the Holocaust and
specifically I’ve written a skirt sketch about a young girl and her mother clashing
about Nazi ideals: Grumbling
Behind Closed Doors: a daughter and mother are at loggerheads
Some notes about my newsletters and
blogs
They do overlap a little but here is a summary of what they
all do.
Bridge House Authors For all those published by Bridge House, CaféLit,
Chapeltown or The Red Telephone or interested in being published by us. General
news about the imprints. News for writers. Links to book performance. Sign up here.
The Bridgetown Café Bookshop where
you can buy my books and books published by Bridge House Publishing, CafeLit,
Chapeltown Books and The Red Telephone.
Visit us here.
Gill’s News: News about my writing, The Schellberg Project, School
Visits and Events. Book recommendations and giveaways. Find it here.
Pushing Boundaries, Flying Higher News about conferences and
workshops to do with the young adult novel. (infrequent postings) Sign up here.
Red Telephone Books News about our books and our authors. Sign
up here.
A Publisher’s Perspective Here I and some other editors blog as
a publisher. Access this here.
The Creative Café Project Listings and reviews of creative
cafés. See them here.
CaféLit Stories Find these here
Gill James Writer All about writing and about my books. View
this here.
Gill’s Recommended Reads Find information here about books that
have taken me out of my editor’s head and a reminder of the ones I’ve
highlighted in this newsletter.
Gill’s Sample Fiction Read some of my fiction here.
The House on Schellberg Street All about my Schellberg project.
Read it here.
Writing Teacher All about teaching creative writing. Some creative writing exercises. Access this here. I also invite other writers to provide
prompts and work for critique.
Books Books Books Weekly offers on our books and news of new
books. Find them here.
The Young Person’s Library The children’s
book catalogue. Access it here.
Fair Submissions Find
it here.
Opportunities for writers are added several times a day. Roughly once a
month I send it out to a list. If you would like to be on that list, sign up here.
Happy reading and
writing.
