A Five Star Review: How to Write and Sell Short Stories

I love Della Galton's book, "How to Write and Sell Short Stories"

So far at Amazon.co.uk it has received five star reviews which I totally agree with.

Della writes for many of the well known women's magazines such as:

My Weekly, People's Friend, Take a Break, Candis, Woman's Weekly etc.

So you know when you read this book, she is someone who knows what she is talking about. She shares her tips with her readers as well as sharing some of the mistakes she has made.

The book is an easy read that you can dip in an out of. I also like the fact she has included tips from other well known magazine writers.

Another bonus is that if you order the book from the above link now, you will get a reduction of £3.00 off the recommended retail price.

The book is worth its weight in gold.

Five Stars: * * * * *

The best part about novel writing

For me the best part about novel writing is the first draft when my ideas are not fully formed and I have no idea which way the plot is going. It's a bit like playing a game of blind man's buff or murder in the dark. I don't yet know my way or who the bad guy is.

I like to surprise myself as I go along because I believe if I have no element of surprise then neither will my readers. So it's not unusual for me, not to have worked out until over half way through the book, who the murderer is or what the black moment might be.

As I race towards the finishing line of getting the first draft down I get a rush of adrenaline and when I finally write 'The End' a surge of relief. It's over. At least for now. It's time to allow the casserole to steep in its own juices for a while. So I put the 'baby' to bed.

A couple of weeks later I get the 'baby' out of its cot and it's back to work for revision and edits. This is the worst part of all. I probably end up with three or four drafts. I look for flaws in the plot like loose ends that haven't been tied up. Isn't it awful to read a book where someone is left locked in the loo or you wander what happened to the dog?

I spell check and look for grammar and punctuation errors. I take out extraneous words [as much as possible.] I use 'that' a lot and 'just', the majority of those have to go. There is an easy solution of course, to perform a word search which will highlight any words I wish to delete.

I move paragraphs around.

I try cutting as much as I possibly can. If it's not vital to the plot then it's out! If a character isn't doing anything, then off they go. Sometimes a character can double duty. For example, perhaps the hero can also be the office boss or the heroine's friend her aerobics teacher.

Less is always more.

When all the edits are complete I submit the package which usually consists of the first three chapters, a synopsis and a cover letter. If I'm fortunate that the publisher wants to see the entire novel, then off it goes.

If it's accepted it's back to editing again as per my editor's/publisher's requirements.

This all takes time and to be honest the whole process can take longer than writing the first draft. It is a wonderful feeling though when the galleys go off for the last time and I'm at that moment of waiting to give birth.

I always enjoy discussing the cover art. I have been fortunate so far that my publishers have allowed me to have a say in this. I tell them my vision for the cover and they come back with a picture, sometimes it needs tweaking but more often than not it's just what I wanted.

Edits are a good thing though. My Samhain editor ended up getting me to cut 4000 words of text! But I have to say that it made my writing tighter and the book was a much better read because of it.

So far I have given birth to 'four babies'. It's time to get broody again....

Seven Ways to Keep the Editor Happy

1. Know his name

This might seem obvious – but if you are able, find out the editor’s name before you query or submit your article or story. You can find out the editor’s name by looking at the first few pages of a magazine where it lists the staff, or on the ‘contact us’ link of their website. Do not address him or her by his or her first name initially. It’s a no, no. Address them either as Mr. Ms. Miss or Mrs. If they get back to you and answer just using their Christian name, then it should be fine to use for future correspondence. Keep your contact formal unless you discover otherwise.

2. Read author guidelines

It’s surprising how many newbie authors don’t take time to read the submission guidelines for a magazine or website. It can save a lot of time and trouble. If a magazine asks for articles of no more than 1000 words using a ‘how to’ style, they are going to be seriously ticked off if you submit something that’s 2 ½ K and in first person!

3. Know your target audience

It’s no use submitting an article about teenage troubles to a magazine read by the elderly. Study the magazine beforehand from cover to cover. A good clue to the intended readership of a magazine is the adverts it runs. If you see lots of ads for stairlifts, incontinence pads and magnifying specs, then it’s obviously not for spotty teenagers, whether this particular readership are young at heart or not.

4. Get Image Requirements right

Some magazine editors have a bee in their bonnet about receiving digital photographs with the right dpi. DPI stands for [dots per inch]. In fact, the dpi has nothing to do with the quality of the photograph submitted. You might send in a JPEG with a dpi of 72 and your editor may claim this is not suitable for the quality of print for the magazine. He wants you to send a picture in of a 300 dpi [this seems to be the standard asked for]. So what do you do? Well, rather than arguing with him, you can download Irfan View. This will enable you to open your picture up and change the dpi to 300 by selecting image, resize/resample option and changing to the dpi to 300, then saving a copy. Easy Peasy! Your 72dpi image is now saved as a 300dpi image http://www.irfanview.com/

5. Be flexible

If you get a bite from an editor, whatever you do, don’t go away and nurse your swollen fingers! If he shows interest in your article but asks you to add, cut or rewrite in a particular fashion, then go ahead, be flexible and show him what you’re made of as a writer. Too many writers give up when their work doesn’t immediately get accepted for publication. Be professional and be thankful he has shown an interest in your work at all. Do not throw you teddy out of the pram. Instead, evaluate his thoughts and learn from them.

6. Deliver on time

Okay, so the editor has shown an interest in your article. He wants you to add another 500 words. He would like the article in within a couple of days. It shouldn’t take you that long to come up with 500 words but you’ve procrastinated and now the deadline fast approaches. If you don’t think you can deliver on time, it’s better to say so. And even better not to have procrastinated in the first place. If he wants you to deliver -- then do it. Otherwise, you’re wasting your time in this profession.

7. Do not send him a barrage of e-mails complaining

So, he’s rejected your article. Get over it. As writers we all suffer from rejection at some point. The clever writers realise each rejection is a stepping stone on to better things. If it comforts you, go and eat some chocolate or curl up in the corner, or better still, eat a lot of chocolate while curled up in the corner! Shed a tear if you must, but then dust yourself down. Whatever you do don’t send him a barrage of e-mails whinging about his rejection. If you feel you must ask why you were rejected, go ahead. He might tell you if he has the time. And if he does, pay attention, he’s not an editor for nothing. Rewrite, resend somewhere else and wait. And one day that rejection will become an acceptance if you’re persistent enough. Persistence pays off in the end -- big time.

A Crash Course in Short Story Writing

I was inspired to publish this here today after sending someone an e-mail about short story writing.

The main points I've learned over the years are:

* Give your main character [protagonist] a problem that needs sorting out

This doesn't have to be something huge like a fire or a flood, it might be something like a newly married woman who wonders how she will cope when her mother-in-law comes for Christmas dinner.

* Go immediately into where the action takes place

If your story involves the bank getting robbed for instance, then there's no need to start it where the main character is pouring milk on his cornflakes. Go straight into where the action takes place where he is queuing up to deposit some money and two masked men with guns burst in.

* Don't have too many main characters

3 or 4 is enough [max] and perhaps a couple of 'walk on parts' of unnamed characters like the postman or taxi driver.

* Ensure there is a definite beginning, middle and a satisfying ending

A story needs structure. Think of a chart when someone's temperature starts off normal, then goes through the roof. That's how your story should be with a climax at the end. Don't let it go on well after the punch line. Leave them wanting more.

* Make Use of Setting

Setting can become one of the characters in its own right. Think about the dark, brooding house in a horror story or a white, sterile, clinical waiting room. Make use of it in your story.

* Allow the main character to have solved his or her problem by the end of the story

The character needs to have learned and or/grown from it as a result. [Character Arc].

* Ensure you are showing more than telling

Ensure you use lively dialogue where the characters exhibit their mannerisms. Also make use of the five senses. However, sometimes a story might have little dialogue because it's more about going into the character's internal thoughts and feelings. This can work out okay if it is well written, but sometimes sounds a bit 'self indulgent'.

* A 'black moment' can work well before the story reaches its climax.

The moment when things seem impossible: there's no solution to the problem, everything is bleak, etc. However, something then happens that turns it all around and brings the story to its final, but satisfying conclusion.

* It's usually best to stick to one point of view.

Most magazines seem to like third person, although I have read some stories in certain mags that accept first person. I recently read a story in Candis where multi viewpoint was used and it worked very well! I have never seen that used in a short story before, but it goes to show if the writing is strong enough then you might get away with breaking a lot of rules!

And they're off!

This is so bizarre. The other night I was in my bathroom when I noticed a very distinct silhouette of a horse on the shower curtain. No, I wasn't drunk or on mind altering medication, but it was so clear. I somehow knew the horse was a male and that there was some connection to a diamond or a star.

I rarely place a bet but I checked out the races held for Easter Monday, which was the following day. There were none with the name 'star' going but there was one I was immediately attracted to called' 'Ffos Las Diamond'. I had a feeling about it.

My hubby placed the bet for me as I wouldn't have a clue what to do. It was running at the 1.55 at Chepstow. Somehow, and I don't know why, I knew it was going to win. At one point it was only in fifth place, but I still knew.

Yes, it won!!! It took over the leader right at the end.

The odds were 7 - 2. Now I wish I had placed a large bet on it. I won enough for us to all have a takeaway and a few drinks though.

Wonder if I will ever see any more winners on my shower curtain again, or was it just all a mad coincidence?

Writing For Payment Or For Art's Sake?

"For free or not for free - that is the question?"

Whenever the 'P' word -- PAYMENT -- gets a mention, writers are frequently up in arms. There appear to be two camps of thought: those that think we should all write for free, 'because it is our art', and those who want to get paid what they are worth as a writer. Of course, you yourself, might fall somewhere in between where you prefer to get paid, but will write for free for good causes or if it is to promote yourself.

Recently, I queried a new national magazine and submitted three articles for the editor to peruse. She was looking for columnists as well as article writers. Within the hour an e-mail arrived in my mail box, [the fastest response I have ever had from an editor], to say that she loved one of my articles and wanted to publish it in the following month's debut issue of the magazine.

Warning bells started to ring at her swift response. After all, most of my magazine queries have taken days, weeks or even months for replies. And as any serious writer knows, magazines work months, not days, ahead of time. Not only did she want to publish my article, she wanted to work with me for a further four editions of the magazine.

Sounds fantastic, right? Not so right. The snag was she didn't intend to pay me a single, solitary cent for my time, effort and expertise. It was a case of, 'We'll see how it goes and if we can pay you sometime in the future, then we will!" Well stuff that for a game of soldiers, which is almost what I told her, but not quite. Instead, I told her I thought that writers deserved to be paid and sent her a few helpful links so she could read up on why writers deserve payment. Cheeky, on my behalf, I know, but I was spitting feathers at the time. I didn't need the clippings that bad.

Now, all this is well and good, but when I pointed this out to one of my Yahoo writers' groups, apart from having a cyber pat on the back from some of my contemporaries, I was flamed off list for daring to suggest writers should be paid.

We're back to that art thing. I shouldn't be surprised. I recently attended a writers' workshop. One of the exercises was to write a poem or story in a short space of time. A writer sitting next to me, who I vaguely knew, came up with a fantastic poem off the top of her head. I said, "You are so talented. Have you been published anywhere?"

"No, certainly not!" she replied as if I had said something I shouldn't.

Then I made the mistake of using the 'P' word. "You know, you could get published and PAID for poems like that."

You'd think I'd hit her in the face with a wet fish. When she had got over the initial shock, she replied, "I couldn't possibly take money for something I love."

I just don't get it, but then again neither did she. Are some writers so precious about their words that they feel it is degrading to sell them? When I told her about some of my own publications, I got the distinct impression she thought I was some sort of writing floozie spreading it around a bit, and horror of horror -- for money, too!

You'll know you're being ripped off when:

1. You're writing for free for a magazine that runs paid advertisements or that sells a subscription, products and/or services.

2. You've brought your expertise (teaching, counseling, nursing, computing skills, etc.) into the article and you're still not offered payment.

3. Everyone else at the magazine is being paid. This includes the Internet provider, phone company, electric company, photographers, models, and editorial staff, right on down to the cleaners. Why should everybody else get paid and not you?

4. The magazine says they are giving you plenty of exposure, so why do you need to get paid?

5. Or, as one high profile website put it a couple of years ago when they suddenly stopped paying writers, 'If you were learning to play golf you'd have to pay fees, so why should you expect to get paid for something you love doing?'

You're not being ripped off when:

1. Your writing will help a charity or good cause close to your heart.

2. It will help further your career as a writer by advertising a product or service you're selling.

By the way, the editor of the new national magazine recently contacted me to say they would now be paying writers. Whether this was as a direct response to my cheeky e-mail, I don't know, but it couldn't have hurt, could it?

A Sad Day

I was sad to hear that Jade Goody passed away in the early hours of this morning, ironically on Mother's Day. I read reports yesterday that it was hoped she would be conscious enough to spend today with her boys.

Although people have criticised her for being famous for being a celebrity who hadn't done much, except to go into the Big Brother House a few years ago, I think they are wrong. Jade has been an inspiration to women, not just because of her public battle with cancer, but she was a business woman too. It's true, she was the brand, Jade Goody, but there was no one quite like her. She didn't always get her words right, but told it as it was from the heart. She also kept herself in the public eye while she went through her illness via Ok! magazine to build up funds for her boys.

The woman had courage.

Before Christmas I watched her on This Morning on ITV talking to Phillip Schofield and Holly Willoughby about her cancer. She looked quite well, except a little thinner. She was enthused with energy for the panto she was about to go into: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs at the Lincoln Theatre where she was to play the wicked queen. She had plenty of fight in her and told Phillip and Holly: "I am bigger than cancer!"

And she was.

Although she has passed away, she left a legacy of cervical cancer awareness, particularly for young women in this country. It has been reported that there's an increase of 20% more going for smears.

Jade Goody lived up to her name in my book and has done good for both her boys and the public and will continue to do so after her death, by saving more women's lives while sadly losing her own.

Today I am going to appreciate every moment of Mother's Day, hug my children as much as I can while remembering the rug can be pulled away at any time. It's not how much time we have here that counts but what we do with it.

Excerpt # 3 Watching You

Angeline was pleasantly surprised by the

man’s appearance, she’d only been able to make out his

silhouette as he stood at the window, but now she slowly

drank him in. The newspaper picture didn’t do him

justice. He was far more attractive. His hair was dark

brown, almost black and he had the most vivid jade green

eyes she’d ever seen. He wore a light pink, expensive

monogrammed shirt with a grey silk tie and gold cufflinks.

Suddenly, she felt very small and insignificant.

“Mr Johnson, my P.A., explained that you were sent

last minute for the interview with me.”

Interview. Cripes. She rather hoped it would be the

other way around and it would be she who was

interviewing him with regard to his intentions towards

the old house.

“What is it you wish to know about me?” she asked in

a forward manner, something she would never do in an

ordinary interview. But this was hardly likely to be an

ordinary interview.

Sitting forward in his leather chair, he steepled his

fingers, all the while still looking through her.

“I’d like to know why you think this position might

suit you?”

She straightened. “Oh. I see. Well I think it might be

a challenge for me. I like a good challenge.” That was a

laugh, she didn’t even know what the position was in the

first place.

“Give me an example of a recent challenge you’ve

taken and overcome.”

Now what was she going to say?

“Well, let me see. I recently needed to leave my home

and look for another and also a job, too.”

“And?” he leaned further forward.

“I had to give up my home so that some stranger with

an eye for business could move in and do what the hell he

likes with it!” Angeline surprised herself with the strong,

passionate tone of her voice.

“This stranger,” Sebastian Tremaine asked, now

leaning back in his chair, “did he evict you from your own

property?”

“No.”

“Then why do you appear to dislike this person?”

Angeline felt that lump return to her throat.

“Because he’s taken away all that I have left, the

memories of my parents for his own selfish ends.” She

heard her voice tremble with emotion and regretted her

decision to come.

Mr Tremaine fell silent for a moment, as if deep in

reflection. “You are Angeline Hamilton, aren’t you?”

She nodded between sobs.

He raised his voice an octave. “Well, is that the case?”

“Yes, it is!” She stood, about to leave his horrible

office.

His face flushed and she noticed a muscle twitch at

the side of his jaw. “Look here. I bought this place and all

the contents fair and square. It was my understanding

that it needed to be sold to pay off all your father’s debts.

You can’t blame me, it’s just not cricket.”

“I know,” she said, heading for the door. She reached

out and found the door knob, comforted to know at least

that’s where it had always been. She turned it a fraction

with bitter regret, knowing she had made a big mistake in

coming here to confront the man.

Sebastian Tremaine stood, then stumbled towards

her. Was he drunk or something? She spied a crystal

decanter of whisky or some other liquor on his desk. It

was then she noticed the white stick in his hand.

Excerpt # 2 from "Watching You"

Angeline was so busy job and home hunting that the

idea almost left her mind, but not completely. It came to

the forefront again when she caught sight of Sebastian

Tremaine on the front page of the local paper, The

Bridgeford News, one evening as she purchased a copy at

the local shop to look out for the latest jobs.

There, standing proudly, holding up a large prize fish

with a big grin on his face was the man responsible for

turfing her out of her home. She’d never seen him before,

but could make out how handsome he was even though

the picture was slightly blurred and in black and white.

The headline read:

Business man, Sebastian Tremaine, Takes over

Tarrington Manor House.

Angeline gasped in astonishment as she read the

article which made it sound as if Mr Tremaine would be

an asset to the local community. Fiddlesticks, he was no

more an asset than one of those large out-of-town

hyperstores was to Bridgeford’s retail community. He’d

probably turn the Manor into some sort of a holiday park,

encouraging bus loads of undesirables to flood the village.

What poppycock!

She knew immediately upon reading the article, she

wasn’t going to like the man. Wasn’t going to, never

would. She clenched her fists at her side, feeling as

though she were about to explode into tiny pieces all over

the shop floor.

Count to ten, keep calm. Buy the newspaper and leave

the shop.

She did as her inner voice suggested, intending to

walk back to her cousin’s flat, but instead, found her feet

leading her in the direction of a taxi rank. One of the cabs

displayed an illuminated ‘For Hire’ sign in its window.

She lowered her head to ask the driver to take her

immediately to Tarrington Manor. If the driver was

surprised by her choice of destination, he didn’t show it.

She settled herself down in the back seat of the cab,

wondering why she was returning to her ancestral home

and what she would find when she got there.

Excerpt # 1 from "Watching You"

** I'll be posting up a few excerpts from my latest novel, "Watching You", this week. Here's excerpt #1:

The man hid behind a tree, watching the funeral guests as they left the big house, his heart beating a tattoo beneath his shirt. He extracted a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and patted his brow. Must be all the adrenaline flowing around his body, he surmised. This was such an exciting day for him, better than winning any lottery. Ah, yes, revenge is sweet.

Most of the guests wouldn’t want to stay now there was nothing in it for them. Little did they realise it was because of his plan. Oh yes, he’d finally got his hands on the Hamilton money. Not only got his hands on a fortune, but made money on the money by investing it wisely, and now it was stored away securely where they would never find it. Especially that snooty cow. She deserved nothing.

He drew a silver hip flask from his inside pocket, unscrewed its top and took a long swig, gasping as the alcohol took his breath away. He had every right to celebrate--it had been a good day. Especially now he knew the bitch had lost it all. After all, it was the law of the universe, wasn’t it? Karma. What goes around comes around and all that. She’d really done a hatchet job on him some years back. His future was mapped out at the time: a wife, children, and Angeline’s inheritance when her old man snuffed it. But that was all taken away when she left him.

He took another sip of the amber fluid, feeling it hit the spot, right at the back of his throat, warming him to the very core. He drank a lot of whisky these days after what Angeline had done to him. He needed warming up the way she’d turned cold on him. Frozen him out, she had. If she hadn’t abandoned him like that, they would be married with children by now. Only she’d cheated him out of what was rightfully his, both his offspring and the money.

There had been no other women since, none of importance anyway. Most of them were interchangeable bimbos he met in pubs and clubs for a knee trembler up against the wall of some filthy alley way. Or if he felt generous and they looked fairly decent, he would book a hotel room for the night. If they were fortunate enough to share his bed, the following morning he neither cared for them nor wanted any more to do with them. It gave him a kind of kick that most of them wanted to see him again to start a relationship. He rejected the silly cows before they rejected him. Just like Angeline Hamilton had done to him. Well, someone had to pay, didn’t they? They were all bloody whores, the lot of them. Women couldn’t be trusted.

There was only one woman he trusted, the one who gave birth to him, and he hadn’t seen her for some time. No woman could compare to his mother. He thought Angeline had, but he should have known better.

He unlocked his car door and sat behind the wheel then slammed the flask down on the dashboard and stared at his trembling hands. Well, there was already blood on them and no doubt, there’d be blood on them again, sometime in the near future...

When the kissing has to stop!

As a romantic novelist, I often write about kissing. In general, most of us like to be kissed one way or another, whether it is passionately by our partner, or a quick peck on the cheek from an old friend or relative.

However, whilst reading some of the Yahoo news headlines today, I came across two kissing stories that were horrific. The first one because of the drink and probable violence involved, and the second, because of a kiss that should have been the most harmless thing in the world from a mother to a young baby that turned out to have deadly consequences.

Here's the first story, entitled: 'Woman 'bit off boyfriend's tongue'

And the second story, the saddest of all: 'Mother's kiss 'killed newborn tot'

The first story sounds to me as if it was a premedicated action on the girlfriend's part and the second, something that in a perfect world could be avoided. A lot of people with cold sores might not realise the harm they are doing if they kiss a vulnerable person like a young child or someone with a lowered immune system. The good thing to come out of the second story is the fact that the mother now wants to campaign to get the message out not to kiss people when you have a cold sore.

I'm Back

Okay, I apologise. I have been away from my blog for quite some time. I was ill before Christmas with stomach problems and although I am a lot better now, I am still not back to normal.

Before Christmas I had a gripping stomach discomfort accompanied by bouts of vomiting, thankfully that has now gone, but I still have some problems which I think might be to do with yeast. When I was at my worst, I couldn't touch any alcohol, my favourite tipple: a glass of white wine, was like poison to me. I believe that sometimes our bodies know what's best for us and for me it was to avoid alcohol like the plague during that time. White bread has also been causing me problems. I don't think I have Celiac disease, but maybe some sort of intolerence either to yeast or gluten found in wheat.

On a positive note, I have lost a stone in weight. So it's not all bad, and of course, I have the added benefit of not drinking alcohol. I drank a glass of wine last night and enjoyed it, but from now on, it will be only the occasional glass.

Christmas Newsletters

My son sent me this BBC link today regarding Christmas newsletters:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7785410.stm

It made me laugh.

The latest trend I notice is for people to no longer write on Christmas cards but instead to add a printed sticker with the greetings on and their names. Have things really gone so far that people can't be bothered to scribble a few words to take the time to think of that particular person at this time of the year?

I'm a Nano Winner!

I'm absolutely stoked! I managed to complete the Nanowrimo Challenge this year with a day to spare. Not quite as good as some years perhaps [one year I managed 58K in three and a half weeks], but much better than 2007. Last year, I only managed a few thousand words.

I had over plotted that novel down to the last detail and knew what I was supposed to write for every chapter. Never again.

This year, I just wrote a back cover blurb and the story just flowed from there.

Whether I'll finish the entire novel and get it published is another thing. So far, I have completed two other Nano books that I haven't done anything with. So, I have to change that and press on. Finish this book [I'm still inspired] and go back at a later date to edit and revise.

Well, that's the plan.

Watch this space...

NaNoWrimo Challenge

I've been taking part in the NaNoWrimo Challenge for the past week. I have been so busy with my Open University course and work that I forgot all about it starting on Saturday, until late that evening. Still, I haven't done too badly compared with last year. I'm up to 11,000 words.

Here's a taste of my NaNo novel [unedited of course]!

Synopsis: The Clock Strikes Twelve

"When several young women are murdered in Merthyr Tydfil, South Wales, over a period of several short weeks, the hunt is on to find the serial killer known as 'Prince Charming', so called because his m.o. is to steal one shoe from each woman as a trophy following the kill.

All the women have something in common: they are young, attractive and out for the evening in the pubs and clubs of Merthyr.

D.C. Vince Conway and his partner, W.P.C. Helen Carter, have just forty eight hours to catch the evil stalker before he makes his next move.

Clues are left to taunt the pair, demanding to be deciphered before the ticking clock strikes twelve."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Excerpt: The Clock Strikes Twelve

It was getting colder. The wind was arctic like. Dawn stamped her feet to keep warm and blew on her gloveless hands.

“Somehow ironic, isn’t it?” Vince said, breaking into her thoughts.

“What is?”

“Us freezing our knackers off out here at the back of the Iceland store!”

No matter how she was feeling, Vince always brought a smile to her face. He had been her partner at the station for the past ten years and one of the only people she trusted with her life. Literally. “Enough of the jokes. What do you make of it all, Vince? Could it be him? Prince Charming?”

Vince chewed on his bottom lip. “Possibly, but it doesn’t explain why he went quiet for the past thirty odd years, does it?”

“Maybe he hasn’t been caught yet. There are plenty of unsolved murders up and down the country.”

Vince dug his hands deep in his trousers pockets and jangled some coins. “Or maybe he’s been inside.”

She had thought of that. “Well, if he has been inside all this time it would have to be for another murder or murders for that length of time.”

“There’s also another possibility of course, he may have been living abroad. It might be an idea if we contact Interpol to see if there are any other murderers, maybe on the continent with the same modus operandi.”

“Boss,” Vince turned to see one of the uniformed bobbies standing behind him with a scruffy looking fella in a bright yellow vest. “This is Bill Davies. He’s the one who found the body.”

Dawn looked at the man, whose skin looked as putrid as she felt. She sidled over towards him. “I’m going to need to take some info from you, Mr Davies.” The man nodded. “It can’t have been an easy morning for you.”

“You can say that again.”

She pulled out her note pad and pen. “So, what happened?”

The man briefly closed his eyes as if trying to envisage the scene in front of him and then opened them again. “We were emptying the bins at the back here at about 10.15. We didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until I put my hand in that bin here and found it…I mean her?” He pointed to the body on the floor that was now being zipped by scenes of crime in a black body bag.

Dawn’s upper lip felt frozen to her face, she quickly ran her tongue over it, at this rate they would be getting frost bite. “And why did you happen to have your hand in the bin in the first place?”

“It was Mal, over there?” He pointed to his workmate standing in the corner. “He thought he found a dummy in the bin and wanted me to pull it out so we could have some fun with it. You know tease the guys at work, that kind of thing. All sounds a bit daft now…” His voice trailed off.

“Not all, Mr Davies,” Vince butted into the conversation. “There are plenty down the station, I can tell you,” he winked at Dawn, “who would have got the same idea.”
Bill Davies straightened himself up, as if he were proud of himself now, for finding the body, although of course it was Mal who had got the original idea to go dumpster diving in the first place.

“We’re going to need for you to come into the station at some point to make a statement about this,” Dawn said.

Mal was now standing at Bill’s side. “We can come in as soon as you like, officers.” There were obviously no flies on him. It was probably a good excuse to get an hour or so off work, not just from them now having to leave their bin duties to go to the police station, but no doubt they would get a couple of hours, or maybe the rest of the day off for the shock of finding the body in the first place. Nowadays, people were such a lily-livered lot. Not like her Dad, who had fought in the Falklands War. Death was common place to someone like him.

Dawn took Vince to one side, so that they were out of earshot. “So, what now?”

“Well, we need to establish who this female is. She looks quite young, doesn’t she? Maybe nineteen or twenty. Someone must be missing their daughter from home around here.”
Dawn nodded. “Probably. Or maybe she lives alone. We haven’t had any mispers reported over the weekend.” A Misper was well known police jargon for Missing Person. In Dawn’s experience, most of them turned up safe and well, either their actions had been entirely thoughtless and they’d forgotten to inform whoever it was that they were elsewhere, or it was more serious in the case of a depressed person who might do themselves harm. In all her years in the force, she had only come across one other case where the misper turned out to be a murder victim.

Dawn strode towards the two refuse collectors. “Right you pair, meet us at the station in half hour. Grab yourselves a cuppa with plenty of sugar, you’ve had a nasty shock.”
Dawn knew only too well what that was like as the shrouded body was loaded into an awaiting van, her mind drifted back to the moment she found out that Jen’s body had been discovered back in ‘75. She had been in school on lunch break. Some of the girls at Cyfarthfa High School, which was in actually a school inside a castle, were wondering around the grounds, heading towards the Cabin as it was called, which was a small snack shop in the park. They were going to get a beef pasty or a Mars bar, and one or two of them wanted to buy some Woodbine singles to feed their nicotine habits. Ruth Jones, the teacher’s pet, came rushing up behind the small gathering.

It was almost as though things were happening in slow motion. Dawn knew as she turned, before Ruth even uttered a word, that it was something about Jen, and not good news. Of all the people in the town, Ruth was the last person she needed to hear it from. She relished all the gossip and was a well known stirrer.

“Girls,” she bellowed, with a sadistic gleam in her eyes. “You’ll never guess what. It’s just been on the radio. Jennifer Johnson is dead.”

The gang crowded around her. So this had been Ruth Jones’s fifteen minutes of fame. For once, she was highly popular with the girls as they hung on to her every word. Who? Where? What? How? In some sad way, it would not have looked out of place if she had sold tickets for the event.

* * *Disclaimer

All characters are fictitious, the places mentioned are not. Iceland Stores accept no responsibility for a dead body being discovered in a large bin at the back of their store.

Another fab review for Watching You

I'm thrilled by the latest review for my new novel from The Romance Studio:

Watching You

Lynette Rees
Romantic suspense
Available from The Wild Rose Press
ISBN: 1-60154-259-3
July 2008

Angeline Hamilton loses her home and everything she cares about when her father dies. She visits the new owner in a fit of temper only to be asked to live there and work as Sebastian Tremaine's personal assistant. As she tries to build a new life an old flame carrying a grudge stalks her. He's determined to make her pay for leaving him years ago.

Lynette Rees builds a tale full of great characters. Angeline is portrayed as a usually mild mannered woman with brains, passion and a temper to match her red hair. Sebastian is a strong, capable, usually kind man suffering the pain of losing his wife and child in a fluke accident that left him temporarily blind. Angeline’s kissing cousin, Will, Sebastian’s sister Marsha and housekeeper Daisy are unique personalities who add much to the story. The villain is a nasty man who kills for fun and sexual gratification, a real psychopath who lusts for blood.

The author doesn’t give Sebastian and Angeline an easy time. They’re attracted from the beginning, it just takes them a long time to admit it.. By the time they do we’re deep into the mystery of what James King will do at the ball to act on his hatred of Angeline. No matter how much security surrounds them, or what Sebastian does to try to protect her, the ex fiancé seems able to circumvent it. It almost gets comical as someone is always distracted or late or slips up or turns their head or something happens to make it easier for evil to take control.

But that’s the fun of it. She keeps us believing that he just might pull it off because he’s gotten past them so many times in so many ways. This is a darned good story.

Overall rating:
Sensuality rating: Very sensual

Reviewer: Dee Dailey
October 6, 2008

http://theromancestudio.com/reviews/reviews/watchingyourees.htm

Addicted to Facebook

Okay, I admit it, I haven't been around much lately, nor have I got much writing done! You see, I have got addicted to facebook. Here is my page if anyone is interested:

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=747060217

I enjoy joining the various groups Facebook has to offer and creating some of my own, such as: "I was an ABC Minor". For those of you, particularly those not resident in the UK, the ABC Minors was a Saturday morning cinema screening for young kids [for me this was in the 60s and 70s] although I believe it was running way before that. Maybe just after the second world war.

I could never see that kind of thing happening these days. Back then it was all very innocent and there were only one or two people in charge of all those marauding kids who were unaccompanied by an adult, stamping their feet and throwing things off the balcony.

It had a kind of innocence about it all.

I've decided I am going to have to wean myself off Facebook and get on with some writing. Call myself a writer...!

Five Angel Review

Just received a nice review for Return to Winter from the Fallen Angels website. I loved writing this book.:

Return to Winter is an action-packed story with a good string of events that hooks the reader and takes them on a fast-moving ride that gets better by the minute. I got a feel for the characters. The intrigue and mystery lends great suspense to the storyline. The relationship between Steph and Dylan emit a great deal of emotion that grabbed this reader. Lynette Rees puts her whole self into each of her characters, making the read captivating. She pens sharp dialogue, a fabulous plot and some little jaunts along the way that spring forth with invigorating excitement. She tells a remarkable tale skillfully done. I liked the way she sketches the story so the reader is involved with every movement of the characters. The different characters came into play, each contributing something to the story keeping the reader spellbound until the dramatic conclusion.

Reviewer: Linda L.

Link: http://www.fallenangelreviews.com/2008/August/LindaL-ReturnToWinter.htm

Great review for Watching You

I just got a great 4 1/2 shamrock review for my latest book, Watching You, from this website:

http://www.ck2skwipsandkritiques.com/sandra/watchingyou_sandra.html

Evil is watching you, Evil is coming for you….

Angeline Hamilton and Sebastian are thrown together after the loss of her father, along with her inheritance and her home. Through a case of mistaken identity, she ends up being employed by him.

Sebastian Tremaine, now the owner of her home, and dealing with his own emotional and physical loss, steps in as Angeline’s guardian angel. He soon realizes all is not what it seems.

Unbeknown to Angeline, evil and death follow her. Sebastian is prepared to do whatever it takes to keep Angeline alive, but can he secure her love and save her? For she is earmarked as the “NEXT” on the killer’s list.

Watching You is a heart wrenching romance filled with passion, forgiveness, intrigue and murder. Ms. Rees has penned a fantastic story about two wounded people who have to learn to deal with life’s changes and move on. I read Watching You in one sitting and really loved the main characters. Angeline has just enough naiveté to match Sebastian’s well travelled, expect the worst attitude. The levels of involvement of the supporting characters are well played. Not only do they bring brief glimpses of levity, but open up the possibility for future stories in a potential series.

These amazing characters also prove that your second chance at love might just be your first. I really enjoyed this book.

Reviewed by Sandra

Watching You

My latest WRP novel, a romantic suspense, has just been published in e-book format. Watching You is the tale of one woman's quest for justice. Here is the blurb:

Upon the reading of her father’s will, Angeline Hamilton is devastated to discover that not only has she lost her inheritance, but she has lost Tarrington Manor -- her beloved family home. When a reckless decision results in her working for the new owner, Sebastian Tremaine, she finds herself hopelessly attracted to the very man she should resent.

But her confusion over the unexpected romance soon gives way to fear. Someone wants her dead. Soon she’s embroiled in secrets, seduction and a simmering love affair.

Stalked by evil, Angeline and Sebastian try desperately to hold onto their new found love…and their lives.

Free IQ Test

Free-IQTest.net - What's your IQ?


I don't know how accurate or relevant this test is but I was surprised by my score. I'm a little dubious though as according to my result I would qualify for Mensa by being in the top 2-3 % of the population.

Something someone said to me years ago put me in my place: "Lynette, for an intelligent person you do some really daft things!" That just about sums me up. Others see me as intelligent and I honestly have some commonsense but you would not believe some of the silly things I do!

I'm so excited!

I've registered with The Open University to take the Diploma in Literature and Creative Writing. I'm really looking forward to it. I'm going to take Creative Writing [level 2] to begin with then one of these courses from [level 3]:

Advanced creative writing

Shakespeare: text and performance

The nineteenth-century novel

Twentieth-century literature: texts and debates

It has made me consider whether I could go on to take a BA Honours Degree in either English Language and Literature or just Literature. Not sure yet.

So come September it will be back to school for me and I can't wait!

Just got a great five star review from Pat McCain for A Taste of Honey

Lynette Rees improves with each book she publishes. The talented Welsh writer weaves her stories through the small country of Wales, drawing her readers in. A Taste Of Honey flows like honey through the ups and downs of the main characters. Her heroine, Fran Santini, works at a second and secret occupation which brings her into grave danger. Travis O'Connell, once in the opposing corner, now attempts to protect her--much to Fran's dismay.

It's very easy to get hooked on Ms. Rees's books. Her characters are all people you might know and either like or dislike, nothing bland here. ..

It's been almost a year...

It's been almost a year since my darling boy, Danny, went missing. If you don't know the story you can read about it in the blog archives for June 2007.

I still miss him, a lot.

I still look at the empty armchair where he loved to sit [see above].

I know in my heart he's not coming back but there's a small part of me that hopes he is going to return on June 1st, 2008, exactly a year to the date he went missing.

I realised quite quickly [well within a few weeks] that I had to let go. It wasn't healthy for me to keep checking the missing dog website. We had done all we could do when he initially went missing with regards to reporting it to the police, online at various missing dog websites, contacted the local dog warden and those in surrounding areas, the country ranger, put up posters etc. My hubby even took some posters to the local school and the headmaster asked the children in assembly if anyone had seen Danny.

The problem I found with the missing dog website was that if I wasn't careful it could become an obsession for me. There were many well-meaning people who checked it and desired to help but some bordered on the fanatic. One day I got a call from three different people claiming to have seen Danny in three totally different areas miles apart. When I asked the people did they notice anything about his ears, none had, which was very strange. They were the first thing anyone would notice about him. They were extremely long and pointed and one was damaged. So one pointed up and one pointed down. He looked more like an Australian Kelpie really than a Border Collie.

What happened to him the night he went missing I shall never know, that's what haunts me the most. I think it would have been easier if I had known, even if I had to live with the fact that he got run over or shot by a farmer. But then again, maybe nothing like that happened and it's possible he is having the time of his life living with some other family -- I do hope that's the case.

Writer's Stasis?

I don't believe in writer's block [not unless the writer is ill or suffering from depression that is]. However, I do believe in Writer's Stasis? What is this strange condition you might well ask.

It's when the writer [you or me] comes to a standstill. Not that they can't write but they won't write. This happens to me at least once or twice a year.

It's happening to me at the moment. I know I will write again but I have to recharge my batteries. My system is overloaded with words and unfinished manuscripts. How I wish I was the type of person who could start a task and finish it without going off at a tangent and starting yet another. If only it were so. Instead, I might start off very well writing three chapters of a novel and then go and start another! Yet, this process seems to work for me. All the manuscripts will get finished in time.

This is the best dictionary definition I can find to explain what I mean by the term 'Stasis':

Main Entry:

sta·sis

Pronunciation:

\ˈstā-səs, ˈsta-\

Function:

noun

Inflected Form(s):

plural sta·ses \ˈstā-ˌsēz, ˈsta-\

Etymology:

New Latin, from Greek, act or condition of standing, stopping, from histasthai to stand — more at stand

Date:

1745

2 a: a state of static balance or equilibrium : stagnation b: a state or period of stability during which little or no evolutionary change in a lineage occurs

So, in effect I am a stagnating writer, but I comfort myself with the thought that even people who stand still for a long time eventually have to move again, and perhaps I am doing that today by writing this post!

American Heritage Dictionary stag·nant

Not moving or flowing; motionless. Foul or stale from standing: stagnant ponds. Showing little or no sign of activity or advancement; not developing or progressing; inactive: a stagnant economy. Lacking vitality or briskness; sluggish or dull: a stagnant mind.

Murder, She Wrote

I hate to admit it but I'm hooked on re-runs of Murder, She Wrote, starring Angela Lansbury. The show which ran from 1984 to 1996 for twelve seasons -- that's no mean feat -- is addictive! Don't ask me why I never watched it at the time. I well remember when it aired that I'd see it coming on and thought it looked quaint and interesting, but it wasn't for me -- until now that is.

At the moment it's being shown on both BBC2 and UK Drama TV channels and I'm having a ball.

Mind you, would you want to be a friend of Jessica Fletcher? I mean every episode someone is killed [there's at least one corpse, sometimes more] and more often than not it's a friend's husband who gets it. Or if not, it's a friend of a close acquaintance. If I knew Jessica [or J.B.Fletcher as she's known in author-land] I'd be petrified to invite her to a dinner party at my home.

In all the episodes I've seen so far, although there is mention of her being a famous author, I've yet to see her write anything, except when the show starts and the credits roll. She types on an old-fashioned typewriter, okay, I don't think lap taps were around then, but computers and word processers were, so her writing should be very time consuming. All that carbon copying and use of the Tippex bottle! So, how does she get the time to solve all these mysteries when her editor wants the proofs of her latest novel on his desk?

I edited three books last year and I have to tell you I had little time for anything else, except sleeping and eating maybe, let alone running around after strangers to find out if they are the murderer, and often times on foreign shores from her native Cabot Cove. So far, I've seen her solve crimes in New York, London, Hong Kong, The Caribbean as well as Cabot Cove.

My favourite episode, thus far is

Episode # 19
Mar. 17--Murder Takes the Bus
Guests: Linda Blair, Michael Constantine, Rue McClanahan
Synopsis: Jessica's bus trip to Portland, Maine, takes a dismal turn when a passenger is murdered.

Tom Bosley [who played Mr. Cunningham in Happy Days], features as the Sheriff and do you detect another well known face from the guest list? None other than Linda Blair, the girl from the Exorcist! Imagine her sitting next to you on the bus! If you tried to look out the window you'd probably see her head violently spinning around and imagine the dry cleaning bills from all that green gunk she'd spew over your clothes!

I love Murder, She Wrote for all it's daftness. It's of it's time, and that I think, is part of its charm.