Today I have the pleasure of welcoming my author friend Ginger Myrick to my blog (She is the only person in the world I allow to call me Anna Banana – goes to show just how much I like her) This is a lady who writes like the wind and has a voracious appetite when
My author friend and 17th century fellow enthusiast, Francine Howarth, has tagged me in an on-going blog hop, Meet my Main Characters. The idea for the bloghop as such is the brainchild of the tireless Debbie Brown, who started it all off by introducing Evangeline, her heroine in the beautifully named For the Skylark. I
Hands up those that go sort of weepy when they watch John Smith romance Pocahontas in the Disney movie named after the Indian princess. No one? Ha, not quite sure I believe you… Anyway, apart from being a beautiful movie with some great music, Pocahontas as per Disney is also a historical mess. Did Pocahontas
I have been tagged by Elizabeth Caulfield Felt to participate in a little blog hop related to my writing process. At present, most of this process seems to occur very late at night, leaving me somewhat sleep-deprived and grumpy, but that, I suspect, is what you get when Ms Inspiration is in one of her
It’s sort of strange; whenever I reach a publication day, I’m afflicted by a bout of melancholia, sort of similar to that a mother feels when she watches her children leave home. Proud because the kids have grown into young, responsible adults, sad because suddenly baby sets out on its own – carving its own
A couple of years ago, I attended a Writer’s conference in York. One of the ladies who stuck out was Christina Courtenay (fantastic hair; still jealous of it) who at the time had just recently published her book Trade Winds. It was sort of odd to realise that Christina spoke Swedish, had a thing about
I had a tough childhood. My mother was a book fanatic, and further to this she was also a language teacher, with a special fondness for the development of literature throughout the ages. Incorrect grammar was not allowed, and let me tell you I had Sophocles and Aeschylus down pat long before I’d figured out
When I was a child, I dreamt of becoming either a medieval knight or a veterinary. One dream fell flat on its face due to having been born in the wrong time and of the wrong gender, the other burst apart when I realised I faint at the sight of blood. Not a good thing
There is something strange in our relationship with love stories. While most of us hope for that happy ending, the stories we remember are the ones that end in tears and loss, such as that of Juliet and her Romeo. Even weirder, we will sit in our sofas and snivel as we watch – yet
I recently read a book where relatively early on there’s a glaring anachronism – in this case the main characters are using Playstation, but this is like two decades before Playstation existed. I should probably get over this irrelevant slip and concentrate on the unfolding story, but unfortunately such mistakes dilute the credibility of the