The Reader Saves The Day

Today is my daughter’s birthday.  She’s in Brugge with her boyfriend.  My other daughter’s at uni, first year.  My novels and blogs are mechanisms that keep them in my heart.

I was horribly unwell when I first started writing.  What little energy I had I spent chatting to my four children.  Kitty and I would get so excited about the weekly episode of #vampirediaries.  We’d try to find films with a baddie that when faced with a dilemma would do the right thing like Damon.  There are two films that were flops, but I loved them, purely because the male protagonist is beautifully, sexily evil; The Guest and No One Lives.  Kitty and I would come up with scenarios for boys/girls of this ilk.  This led us to a scenario where an assassin steals an identity and comes into contact with a damaged teen girl.  This premise got forgotten for a while, mainly because I was so unwell.  After my second operation, feeling regenerated our concept reignited and my other daughter Gerty came up with a title ‘The Rebirth of Henry Whittle.”

The following morning I wrote all day.  Then the next and the next and so on.  It was addictive.  I was quite weak and housebound so the characters became totally real to me.  I loved them.  The girls critiqued, proof read, laughed at me a lot! I updated.  We came up with a pen name Gertrude T Kitty (my girls’ nicknames and T because it sounded good).  Then off went the first three chapters to literary agents. I struggled with that.  I’m too old and too unwell to be anyone but myself or to sell myself.  Luckily there was a lot of interest in the premise and requests for the full manuscript.  I had lots of ‘we liked it but didn’t love it’ or it’s not one for us but that’s subjective’.  I also had two offers of representation and an American publishing house that were considering it.  I went with an agent I immediately felt comfortable with. Sadly it did not work out.  But I learnt so much, from her and from the response of editors at publishing houses. I took a break then decided to go it alone. No having to compromise.

Readers for me are incredibly important. An unread book means I’m not an author. Yes I had the joy of writing it and sharing it with my daughters but it’s about identity.  I’ve a degenerative spine condition; there is so much I can’t do but I can write. I can Twitter. I can blog/vlog and endeavour to connect my book with readers. Readers are magic because they sprinkle fairly dust and they’re with your characters; turning each page, making them real.

My book is an invitation to connect with new people, of all ages, all around the world. I won’t feel awkward or have nothing to say because we’ll have Random Attachment in common.  Yes, lots of folk will tell me how wrong I’ve got it, but honestly it won’t upset me.  I’m a newbie, a wildcard; I am going to make mistakes.  I’m a different generation to my readership so I’ll be out of touch; sometimes say the wrong thing.  I’m actually my teenage self again, trying to find a place to fit in, unsure of myself, a bit fragile at times.

My female protagonists are not perfect.  Nobody is.  We are all flawed and talented in some way  but that’s what makes us special and unique.  I want girls to read my books then look in the mirror and know they are beautiful. There’s always those that will make you feel less than you are.  You might be unable to cut them from your life because you live with them.  I think that’s why teen years can be the hardest because you’re trapped; at home or at school.  I imagine that’s how a lot of battered wives feel.  Unless you’re wealthy you can’t just walk away from a marriage.

My male protagonists will never follow a stereotype.  I’ve never met the perfect, 6ft, chiseled cheekboned, 6 packed man.  My husband is small and roundish; during our marriage he’s been a villain and a hero.

Today I woke up fresh and I showered. That alone caused me to crumble.  I’ve had to lay still til Tramadol kicked in.  I’m moving poorly, my body is sluggish and unresponsive.  I’m weeing every 15 minutes.  What’s lovely though is I have purpose. I’m eager to check things out on Twitter.  Then Amazon to see if I’ve any further reviews (only have 4).  I check KDP to see if I’ve sold a book. Then I read some blogs.

Having any illness can be lonely, even when you’re surrounded by those you love.  Especially neurological diseases and mental illness because the unseen disabilities often have the least support.  I yearn to be an author because I need to live a fulfilling life; it’s self help for someone who spends long periods at home.  Life doesn’t stop for others when you’re disabled; friends work and socialise, your kids move out and rightly have lives of their own; so it’s up to me to make things work.

So when you read my book not only are you bringing my characters to life, you’re bringing me to life.  Thank you for that. X

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merry Christmas

Christmas is a funny time for myelopathers.  Maybe some of us feel under pressure to produce the perfect Christmas day and are already stooped in pain and it’s only Christmas Eve. Maybe others isolate themselves because they lack the energy to get dressed and join in with family.  We say ours is a hidden disability but I think that is sometimes an excuse we make because our families lack empathy. When I move it’s all too obvious that something is amiss.  The pain of course invisibly attacks the nervous system but I think it’s evident in my grimace and the way my body caves inwards that I’m suffering.

I don’t personally know any of you…but I think about you…my friends united against this horrible degenerative disease.  I hope that your family and friends are kind to you, that they rally round you…that they understand your limitations.

I never imagined seven years ago when I was diagnosed that the battle would be this huge, this gruelling, this demoralising.  If you’d asked me then was I coping…I’d say there wasn’t anything I couldn’t conquer.  Right now I feel like I’m at war with myself. I’m a person I don’t recognise.  I’m jumpy, anxious, easily upset, unable to form coherent sentences, all weekend I’ve called Kitty’s boyfriend Jack when his name is Zac.  He’s such a dear, he worked out that becames my other daughter’s partner is James I was mixing the two together.  I can’t remember anything.  Historically it’s been my husband who upsets the apple cart, right now it’s me…which adds to my guilt.  Other than being in constant pain…I’m ticketty boo.

Regardless of everything I have just moaned about I couldn’t be happier.  On Saturday I sat enjoying a Christmas lunch with the five people I love most in the world.  I used to say to them I love you more than all the desserts in the world, all the seas and when I look at my husband, sons and daughters I know I am the luckiest person.  They totally get me, they know the ugly side of me and they do whatever they can to make me as comfortable and supported as anyone with a painful disability can be.

And I want that for you all this Christmas. I think right now if you feel unhappy or distressed you should stop doing what you are doing.  It’s better to have beans on toast and feel as well and as happy as you can be.  If your family are taking you for granted and letting you dig a hole for yourself tidying and cooking you owe it to yourself to say no this is to much, no I’m not coping.

I’ve had serious mental health issues this year.  I’ve never been so glad to see the back of of a year in my life.  I’ve nearly ruined Christmas; I just managed to pull myself together for the family meal. I know I need to keep communicating with my family, to admit when I’m in pain, to not physically push myself because I’m gaining weight which I hate.

Yes I’m disabled, yes my life is very limited, but I can’t expect others to know how bad I feel if I don’t tell them. It’s my responsibility to ask for help.  I owe it to my family to ask for help.

I’m taking control of my life back by escaping into writing, by blogging and now vlogging.  I am going to shout from the rooftops that I feel like I’ve been twisted inside out I’m in so much pain, that’s what cervical myelopathy does to you…But there is always hope and sunny days ahead.  Great things are ahead of us.  Be vocal. Cry. Sing. Argue…but don’t suffer silently.  You deserve better.

Happy Christmas myelopathers.  Thank you for being there for me through https://www.facebook.com/groups/myelopathy.support/ Thank youhttps://www.facebook.com/myelopathy.org/   I intend to raise money through Jen’s bookclub The BB’s, who are so brilliant with me, my book sales – if anyone needs a present for 14+ to adult ladies please buy Random Attachment, 10% of royalties go to Myelopathy.org and 10% to YMCA West London https://www.amazon.co.uk/RANDOM-ATTACHMENT-Gertrude-T-Kitty/dp/1790375347/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1544651916&sr=8-3&keywords=random+attachment

And lastly if anyone wants to get to know me better and my take on myelopathy please check out my youtube channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwao3_-p4ISUoWlVOhZYnsQ

 

 

 

 

We were liars

IMG_0364Titles and straplines are funny things.  “Which are lies? Which is truth? You decide.”  This is a novel of repressed memories, of withheld facts but lies? I’m not even sure why the close-knit group were named ‘the liars’ by their family. I get that whenever tragedy strikes there is gossip and twisting of facts.  That those involved have their own perspective of events.  But if you’d asked me what the title hinted at, it would be children weaving a web of lies.  A novel challenging the reader to differentiate between lies and truth.

Saying that my strapline A Boy, A Girl, A killer is embarrassingly basic.  Regarding titles, I named RANDOM ATTACHMENT in a minute.  I don’t deliberate, if my first idea fits the brief then onward I go – writing is what I love…or my imagination is limited! The strapline was harder than writing the book; I failed the challenge miserably but I think it’s pretty clear what the story is about.

IMG_0357 I enjoyed WE WERE LIARS. I read it over a few days. The story is beautifully and brilliantly told. I didn’t see the twist coming which is a credit to the author’s skill.  I was intrigued by what was being kept from Cady but I didn’t feel desperate to find out.  But that can be a good thing because you were with the characters whist they idled their holidays away.

I need to connect to characters. I liked Cady but I wasn’t gutted for her.  Yes she had headaches that immobilised her, yes pain was severely affecting her life but I knew by the end of the book her issues would be resolved.

Her love for Gat felt more like a crush – it didn’t burn within her.  It was more a response to a close friendship and an awareness of physical changes as they blossomed. I didn’t feel he was the love of her life. Had I, the conclusion would have hit me harder.

The fairytale concept I liked but they were too long and one too many.

I wasn’t totally convinced by Cady as a character.  THE REBIRTH OF HENRY WHITTLE (TRHW) has multiple pov’s.  RANDOM ATTACHMENT is a third person narrator; sometimes the young adult voice is lost within an adult narrator and I felt this true of WE WERE LIARS.  The writing is quality but there was no differentiation between the eleven year old cady and the fifteen year old.  I think that is common of YA books and it’s not always down to the writer.  My former agent loved the premise of TRHW and Phoenix’s voice. Yet throughout the editing process, bit by bit, she toned it down to the point it was lost.

Here’s what HotKeyBooks had to say about TRHW This has a pretty dark premise at its core, I actually really liked the story. It was weird and twisty…but Phoenix’s voice ended up feeling a bit self-conscious.”

And so began the withdrawal of my agent who’d steered the book in the direction of ‘making Phoenix’s voice more palatable’ because it was in part angry and frustrated. It was at this point I decided to self publish.  I couldn’t go through another year of editing to find out it’s not what publishers want.  My years are too precious and I love my writing too much to lose control again.

WE WERE LIARS was hugely successful and I see why.  I’m glad I read it. I enjoyed it. I didn’t love it but I would highly recommend it. I’m not going to hold the publisher HotKeyBooks against e.lockhart.  Instead I’m giving WE WERE LIARS an 8.5 out of 10.  My 10/10 would be a book I miss once it’s finished, a book I wish I hadn’t read so I could read it again, a book like Laura McHugh’s THE WEIGHT OF BLOOD or Sarah Pinborough’s THE DEATH HOUSE and undoubtedly 13 REASONS WHY which I read in a night I was so engrossed and in despair for Hannah. These are books that have huge crossover appeal, anyone over 14 could love them.

Opinions are subjective; I would never severely criticise a writer because what I dislike another reader could love, so I simply don’t review.  I have read many more books both YA and ADULT that didn’t meet my blogging standards. So to all those authors on my pages I salute you for the fantastic books you’ve written. WE WERE LIARS would make a great Christmas pressie for the 11-15 age group. Thank you e.lockhart for a wonderful read.

 

 

 

 

The Wolf

CHAPTER 2   THE WOLF

He rubbed the ointment generously into his knee before strapping it up and pulling a knee support over it.  His forehead was badly bruised.  His shoulder was fucked.
Reclining on the sofa he swallowed a cocktail of painkillers and muscle relaxants along with a glass of wine.
He considered the situation.  She could not identify him.  She had no idea where she’d been held.  He could walk right up to her, look her straight in the eye and she’d not know he was The Wolf.
He smiled.  She was a surprise; feistier than expected, a real risk taker. He’d underestimated her.
He looked at the photos beside him on the couch.  Her face turned away from the camera.  Her bare body, stiff with cold and fear. His smile widened.  He wanted her back.

Interested? Free on @kindleunlimited and available to purchase @amazon

When I write I listen to music that helps me connect with a specific emotion.  Like editing this I listened to LIVE OR DIE by Noah Cyrus, JyellowL Me N Me 2 and an old favourite Prodigy Breathe and a whole bunch of hiphop and creepy songs like Lo Fang’s Boris

Love it if you’d follow me. If you have any thoughts on YA/NA literature or on anything love to hear you https://twitter.com/gertrudetkitty