Blurb and first review Casablanca, My Heart

Every day now I hope to get that message from my publisher Tim Roux at Night Publishing that my book Casablanca, My Heart is available as an e-book. I can’t wait to send you the links so you can all read and -hopefully – enjoy my story. For now, I’d like to share the blurb my dear friend and editor Sheila Mary Belshaw wrote for me and her review that is waiting to go up on Amazon. Hope both work as appetizers!

                                                        Cover e-book

Blurb: 

What happens when a grieving romantic novelist meets a Moroccan Prince in Casablanca – the city of her dreams?

Romantic novelist Heather Simpson’s idyllic marriage to renowned artist Luuk Routers ends in tragedy when he is permanently brain damaged in a car accident for which Heather is wrongly held publicly responsible.

To distance herself from this heartbreak, she assumes the pen-name Femmy Lovecraft and after several years of nursing her comatose husband is persuaded by her closest friend, Rita, to take a much needed break to do research for her next novel – a cruise to the city of her dreams – Casablanca.

But the night before the ship docks in Casablanca, Heather is accosted by a mysterious stranger purported on the ship to be a Moroccan Prince, and she ends up with far more than a break or research for her novel.

How did the mysterious stranger find out Heather’s real identity? Why does he follow her ashore in the port of Casablanca? And why has he been stalking her for years?
And what is it about this handsome half French/half Moroccan man that Heather cannot resist?

The massive consequences of their brief one-day lustful liaison are far reaching and lasting for Heather.
But will she and Ghalib Tourniquet ever find each other again?

                                                     Cover pocket

Review:

This is an unusual romantic novel, and I was mesmerised by it from the very first page.

Heather Simpson is a successful romantic novelist whose first love and marriage to the famous artist Luuk Routers has come to a tragic end after an unavoidable car accident for which Heather wrongly takes the blame. To protect her identity she assumes the pseudonym Femmy Lovecraft for her novels, at the same time continuing to nurse her beloved Luuk who remains in a coma. Persuaded by her friend Rita to give herself a break from this sadness and follow her dream to visit Casablanca to do research for her new novel, she embarks on a cruise which calls at Casablanca. But just before the ship docks she is confronted on deck by a handsome stranger who mysteriously knows her true identity.

From this moment on her life changes dramatically. Although at first shunning the attentions of the stranger, annoyed and puzzled that he should know her true identity, she nevertheless finds herself overcome with lust for this handsome half French, half Moroccan man of royal blood. But his passionate seduction of her is short-lived. Overcome with guilt, Heather flees back to the ship that afternoon, vowing never to see Ghalib Tourniquet again.

Told first from Heather’s point of view, and then from Ghalib Tourniquet with his fascinating blend of two cultures, the two voices complement each other in a most intriguing way. Warren has the enviable ability of being able to place herself in the head of each of her main characters, giving the prose an immediacy and a directness which is both vibrant and cinematic and made me feel I was right there watching the characters and living every moment of the action, the emotion and the heartache.

This debut novelist has a keen eye for detail; her prose is enriched by her fresh observation of things one often overlooks, and I found myself re-reading some of her passages for the sheer joy of the sound of them.

The characterisation is deep and revealing, especially of the main characters, whose lives the author explores far beyond the boundaries of the plot, which I will not reveal any further, but which will leave you on the edge of your seats as you follow the intricacies of their lives and bite your nails wondering whether Heather and Ghalib will ever get together again.

Sheila Mary Belshaw  

Please bear with me

I’m very sorry I’m unable to share with you new blogs and post new interviews for you but one of my children is seriously ill and I want to be near her in hospital.

Hope to add new stuff soon. I MISS WRITING and I MISS YOU commenting on my blog. Please keep us in your prayers and thoughts.

Loads of liefs, Hannah xxx

The book in my womb

What do a first book and a first baby have in common? Both are the result of creative processes that at a given point – often clearly remembered, but not always!- germinate in the secret, deep recesses of our Self, a place to which we have no tangible access. They both grow largely unseen by the outer world. When all is well, they both start their life in our heart, after which the foetus via the body and the story via the mind end up permeating our soul, becoming more important and bigger every day until at some point they just have to emerge to show their unique, beautiful being to us all.

I guess you understand I’m in the last phase of my first book pregnancy. Every day now I hope to receive that happy mail from my accoucheur/publisher Tim Roux that the delivery has begun. Earlier this month I wrote a guestblog about this birthing process for my friend Craig Saunders and this is the repost. The original post can be read at http://www.petrifiedtank.blogspot.com/2012/03/book-in-my-womb.html Thanks again, Craig!

I am not usually in the habit of visiting psychics but I had an appointment with one last week as she was promoted to me by my hairdresser and I am in the habit of listening carefully to my hairdresser as this magical creature possesses potions so strong she is able to keep all my stray, grey hairs at bay. Oh vanity! The lady dog whisperer was lauded and applauded in no uncertain terms and with my Jack Russell getting grumpier and more difficult by the day a visit down that slippery spiritual path seemed like a viable one.

After the lady dog whisperer had summed up all my dog’s pregnant thoughts and wishes for the remaining years of his life, the very grey-haired lady turned her attention to me and started shining her light through me. One of the first things she did was grip her abdomen and ask me if something was wrong with my womb. First thing that shot through me was ‘oh no, am I getting that old that even my womb starts sagging?’ but I immediately picked up the hint and with a beaming smile announced:

“My first book is going to be published next month! That must be it.” This was followed by “Aha’s” and lots of nodding. We couldn’t agree more that this was the ‘birth’ she felt in my womb. My imagination and her intuition fitted snugly together and we were convinced we could see the viable foetus, now almost full-grown and ready to engage.

This blog is not about wombs and dog whisperers, but this little scene came to mind when Craig asked me to write a guest blog about my first book Casablanca, My Heart, to be published by Night Publishing in the next couple of weeks. Tim Roux hasn’t given me the exact date but mentioned the merry month of March for its launch.

So what was this pregnancy like? It wouldn’t surprise me it will go down in the annals as the longest book pregnancy in human history. I was born a writer – the apple never falls far from the tree – being my father’s daughter, but it took me almost 56 years to become a published author. Uncertainty about my craft and living in a non-English country were the main reasons for this prolonged pregnancy. But why look back when looking ahead is much more interesting?

I wrote Casablanca, My Heart four years ago and after some vague attempts at finding an agent/ publisher dropped the idea of publication once again and stored the file alongside all the other finished and half-finished manuscripts, poems and short stories. Joining the writers’ site Authonomy in October 2010 with another manuscript has – with hindsight– been the turning point in my writing career. And I’m not the only one! It was the first time my isolation as a writer was lifted and my self-confidence started to grow. I found kindred spirits, read, discussed, wrote. I launched my website www.hannahwarrenauthor.com in January 2011 and gradually found my way and my voice. Casablanca, My Heart was retrieved and dusted. In 2011 it was edited by no less than three professional editors as I remain a “foreigner” in the English language and I’m an absolute perfectionist. As I had done a dozen or so interviews with Night Publishing authors on my blog, I came to know them quite well and finally had the nerve to ask Tim if he’d also publish my book. To my absolute delight he said YES!

No matter how old and sedated I ought to be by now, I am still an all or nothing kind of person, which means I also write in fits and starts. Seven years ago, I started my magnum opus – you know the one that never gets finished – called Prior To You, a thriller. I wrote 58,000 words of it during NaNoWriMo 2011 and the manuscript is now at some 85,000 with perhaps 25,000 to go, but I’m not writing much at the moment, it’s all rather wishy-washy writing-wise. I guess I’m waiting for the birth of No 1 and people’s reactions to it before seriously considering another book. I truly despise my own insecurity but I doubt it will ever change. No reader, no exulting review will be able to fully take that away from me, but I hope – one day – I’ll understand what ‘nothing that is human can be perfect’ means.

However, with all my heart I hope you’ll enjoy Casablanca, My Heart. I call it ‘a light read’, it’s but a dream….

And hopefully my book-baby will only hear these words:

Jane Alexander on Pinterest

I love sharing secrets with you about myself so here is another one. We moved to Holland when I was about 13 months old and my parents insist my first Dutch word was “hebben”, loosely translated as “wanna have”. But I don’t really consider myself the materialistic type. Wanting new gadgets and hoarding new social media is part of the Monkey I am in the Chinese Zodiac. Curiosity, endless curiosity. Hence, my sudden interest in Pinterest. Had no idea what it was – still haven’t - but it looks appeasing to the eye or is it the “I” ? . It triggers the visual artist in me, the one that lurks behind the facade of words.

Anyway, before my blabbing gets out of hand, let me share with you what my much thorougher, much more well-documented friend Jane Alexander blogged about Pinterest. She breathes Visual.

Jane’s original blog can be found at: http://exmoorjane.blogspot.com/search?q=pinterest

Words fail me

Words fail me so often. It’s why I often turn to music. But then, also to image.

There’s a theory that people filter the world through a dominant sense. That, while most of us use all our senses, there tends to be one which comes more naturally, which elbows the others for first place. So we are generally visual, auditory or kinaesthetic in the way we relate to the world. I first came across this concept when I was taking some post-grad linguistics courses and looking at how our primary sense mode affects learning language. And, on that score I’m highly visual. I need to see words, as well as hear them. When I was at junior school we learned French purely by listening to it. I was rubbish. When we went up to senior school we shifted to learning the old-fashioned way, with books. I flew. Schools could do well by finding out how their pupils perceive the world and adapting learning programmes for them – it would save a lot of heartache.
Anyhow. It’s probably why I dislike the phone so much. I can’t rely on visual clues. And I hate audio-books with a passion.
Adrian, on the other hand, is purely auditory. He often barely notices how things and people look. The visual is totally unimportant to him. He’ll happily listen to spoken word for hours.

Sight is sensual to me. When I write (fiction) I see the scenes playing out as if I were at the cinema. A beautiful image will stop me clean in my tracks, take my breath away – as much as a piece of music, or a single chord, or a note (with all its over and undertones). As much as a a touch, a sensation (affecting not just the place touched but vibrating through body and space); as much as a taste (with all its various subtleties and innuendos). Yeah, I guess I feel all the senses pretty acutely.

But images. I grab them, I hoard them, I sink into them. I have journal upon journal brimming with images, all carefully cut out and pasted. And every time I write a book I have a mood board, a treasure map of images on the wall in front of me. It’s not so much about how the actual people and places look (because I know that, clear as day, in my mind – I don’t need other representations) but about the mood, the feel, the atmosphere of the book. One of the comments from the editor at HarperCollins who looked at Walker struck home. She talked about a novel having a ‘palette’ and that some of the colours of Walker’s palette didn’t ring true. And she was right. I had taken on board early advice from Philip Hensher about the book and included garish day-glo colours into what was always a book of moss and slate, green and grey. I hadn’t followed my visual eye. Needless to say, I took out the imposters.

A short while ago I discovered Pinterest. Thanks to Zoe. And oh my! This was what I had been craving. A place to squirrel away all the stunning images I find as I wander the web. So, if you want to see some of the visual inspiration for my book Walker, take a look here. If you want to see what was playing in my mind when I wrote my beloved Samael, look here. Right now I’m back to working on Tanit, the sequel to Samael. It’s proving a tough one to write – but then true love never runs smooth, eh? And the third one is coming together in images, even if the words are a long way away.

It’s a place of dreams. Of beauty and pain. Of other worlds.

So, yes, I like Pinterest, I really do. Sure, you can follow and be followed, but there isn’t the whole ‘in your face’ thing of other social media. And it seems like their policies are sound and they are (for now, at least) pretty human. There’s no advertising. And the Pin button grabs the URL of the place where you find the image, so the artist or photographer gets credit. As an image resource it’s incredible. Because so far it has tended to appeal to those of a visual bent (the place is crammed with artists, photographers, fashion bods, architects, designers and so on), you don’t get anywhere near the tacky crap you get from the usual Google image search. In fact, sometimes, it’s almost sweetly naïve – for example, tap in ‘lust’ and you get a whole pile of images of shoes and sofas!

But is it useful? Said a friend. ‘Do we really need another form of social media?’ Well. I suppose it depends what you want to do with it. Could you use it as another of marketing for your ‘product’, she asked. Sure. I see people selling stuff there – jewellery, design, art. But really, use your imagination. If you’re, say, a holiday letting business, you could entice with images, not just of the property but of the lifestyle surrounding it. It’s a god’s gift if you want to seduce, entrance, attract those with a strong visual sense. Hence all the ‘lust’ – people make wishlists on Pinterest. And I bet they buy.

Yeah, I put up a board for my books but I have to say that wasn’t really my main reason for joining. I’m just head over heels in love…with images.
But then again, I wonder. It’s so personal. It’s like revealing your soul. Far more than words. I dunno. This might be a short-lived love affair. But for now… it’s rather beautiful.

Anyhow. How do you perceive the world? If you write, do you use image? As well as words. And what are the images that stop you in your tracks?

Bio:
Jane Alexander is a journalist and author of over twenty non-fiction books on natural health and wellbeing (see her Amazon author page at http://amzn.com/e/B000APLEKK ). She’s also a social media addict. Catch her blog at http://exmoorjane.blogspot.com or chat to her on Twitter @exmoorjane

God’s scar tissue

Can’t write, can’t concentrate. The mind is a monstrous thought machine, making  eternal circles but not making sense. Where am I going? I need to write!

My thoughts revolve around one word all the time:

scar tissue

and then:

How did it get there?

I can’t do this on my own. It’s too big for little me. But I got the answer. There is, there always will be an answer when it’s really needed! This morning I got mine. In Church. Yes, I am still a Catholic – despite …you know… and we need a place to turn to, God’s House, when life overwhelms us, a place to pray, to light a candle.

And find answers!

I opened my prayer book and this was what I found:

Scars

Every human being is wounded during his life

Often these are small wounds and they heal quickly and well;

we almost forget about them.

Sometimes the wound is deep,

the healing process is difficult,

and the memory stays with us.

We carry a constant reminder of it with us:

The scar.

The wound has healed, but the scar remains.

Scars are scratches on your soul,

but they can also radiate the riches

of a matured life,

such as the lines in the face of old age,

such as the signs of Jesus’ wounds

in the tales of his resurrection.

(Translation from the Dutch, text George Wüst sj)

I was crying as I read this, so fitting, so true! And then there was this personal prayer:

Good God,

the cross is an unfathomable sign

of suffering and death.

Please help me to not walk away from it,

when I see people suffer

or if I’m going through a rough patch myself,

but to look it in the face

in the example of Jesus, your Son. Amen.

Friendship at the core of my life

My father used to say: “Family you can’t choose, but friends you can”, which was his way of saying he had a thorough dislike of family and he always distanced himself from all family related matters during his life. It goes without saying that his strange view on blood ties has also had an impact on his offspring. I felt as if my father – consciously or unconsciously – drove a wedge between relatives every time they tried to connect at some level. And he was very good at that. My mother maintained normal relations with her English family and took us to visit them, without my father of course. But true to his philosophy my father maintained some life-long relationships with his friends. There were reasons for his strange, unhealthy behaviour and they form the leitmotiv of my thriller Prior To You. My paternal grandparents collaborated with the Nazis during world war two and my dad was an only child…

So my father taught me this lesson: friends count more than family. It was not until I became a mother that it struck home to me how strong and everlasting blood ties really are. But I was never close to my father and regret having listened to him. After I left home in 1974, I hardly ever saw him again. He died 19 December 2001 and it has taken me ten years to recover from what was a very complex mourning process. Grief for a dead parent is normal but grief mixed with anger, fear and hatred is poisonous. With hindsight, I should have tried harder to stay in touch with him when he was still around. It would have saved me a lot of undoing of tangled ties afterwards but I honestly would not have known how to do that. And it would have demanded an effort from his side, too. I learnt my lesson, though, and am very thankful I retraced my footsteps away from the estranged relationship I had with my mother so I can now care for her during her dementia and say a proper ‘goodbye’ to her.

Friends? Who, what are friends?

One of the best friends I’ve ever had has just died and we buried him in Kalmar, Sweden on 2 March. When I was writing my farewell speech about him, I pondered our friendship and friendships in general.

This is the part of my speech where I describe our first acquaintance:
There are very few people you come across in your life, of whom you instantly know you will become friends. To me Rolf was one of those people. Our friendship started off with a nice anecdote. All the international colleagues were in the same hotel in Szczecin, Poland in 1998 and I saw the hotel had a sauna so after a long day of meetings I asked if anyone else would be interested in making use of the facility, but only Rolf said ‘yes’ with his usual enthusiasm. We decided to make a go for it no matter what other people thought. I think they thought we were mad! But we felt so much at ease with each other despite the fact we had just met, that in our bathing suits we chatted and laughed and relaxed after all the hard work.

Perhaps friendship – which is a form of love – cannot be explained or rationalised, as at its core it is an emotion, a bond you feel, a connection between people larger than themselves. But I can say why friendship is crucial to folks like me with weak family ties. When you can trust and love a friend it feels as if Sir Walter Raleigh has thrown his coat over a muddy puddle so Elizabeth I doesn’t get dirty feet. You feel revered, listened to, related.
Friendship has none of the frenzy of romantic love, with all that pining for the beloved when you’re not together. In its purest form meeting up with a friend is rejoicing in the happening every time you see each other but when you each go your own way again there is no pain, no lacking. Friendship is a safe haven, a happy knowing that somewhere on this earth there is another special person of whom you think with great fondness, with whom you have shared and will share again many blissful moments. Hopefully!

My aim here isn’t to define friendship as every friendship is unique and everyone has his/her own ideas about it. All I want to say is that now I’ve lost one of my dearest friends, his death has made absolutely clear to me how much a friendship can mean and how great an inspiration it can be. I hope that from now on I will cherish my real friends even more than I already did and it doesn’t matter there aren’t that many!

To commemorate a great friend, this is what I will do:
Some 6 or 7 years ago Rolf and I had the idea to write a book about Öland in Sweden, where he had a summer house.  In the middle of the island of Öland on the Stora Alvaret stands a ruin, a reminder that at some point in time humans lived there, which is strange as the land is a barren steppe and far away from the village. During our walks on the Alvar, I had all sorts of romantic ideas about the daughter of the vicar of Smedby eloping with some rogue and I seriously discussed writing a book about this ruin and its inhabitants.

Rolf was – as usual – very enthusiastic about it. He searched the archives for me to learn more about the history of the place because all the documents were in Swedish and I can’t read the language. I still have all Rolf’s notes about the trade route that existed across the Alvar at the end of the 19th century. It passed the former house, which had been a kind of resting place for travellers. Other priorities prevented me from getting around to writing the book but the book Daughter of the Alvar  will now be written and it will be dedicated to my dear friend, who kindled my love for Öland and Swedish folktales.

So I’m searching for a cottage to rent there this summer and start writing the rough draft on location.

If you’re interested in the magical place, read this:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stora_Alvaret

Lily Byrne interviews Stacey Danson

After reading Empty Chairs by my Australian friend Stacey Danson, I agreed with many readers that we needed a sequel. The book ended rather abruptly after describing the first eleven years of horrific child abuse that Stacey endured and her finding relative safety living with other runaway kids in a container in Sydney’s docking area. Stacey listened to her readers and did an equally amazing job delving back into these difficult years in her teens and gave us Faint Echoes of Laughter, an – at times – more harmonious account of the next decades of her life, starting with her five years as a street kid in the 1960s.

It goes without saying that I have tremendous respect and admiration for Stacey and I was glad to find an excellent interview that another dear friend of me, Catherine Chisnall aka Lily Byrne, did with Stacey after the release of Faint Echoes of Laughter. So tons of thanks, Lily Cat, for giving me permission to repost the interview. The original post can be read at:
http://blog.catherinechisnall.co.uk/2012/01/stacey-dansons-faint-echoes-of-laughter.html

Also please check out Lily’s blog with a lot of information on child abuse:

http://blog.catherinechisnall.co.uk/p/prevent-child-abuse.html

1.              Tell us more about your book.

Faint Echoes of Laughter was written in response to a large number of people who kindly asked what happened to me after I began living with the kids in “The Palace”:  the shipping container on the docks in Sydney where I ended up staying for five years; from the age of almost twelve till after my sixteenth birthday. It wasn’t a maudlin request made from people who were looking for a thrill read, these folks genuinely wanted to know how my life turned out. I felt an obligation to give them the answers.

2.              Why did you choose that title?

Faint Echoes of Laughter is what I hear every time I’m around the streets and the parks where we lived. I still hear the lovely sounds of normal kids playing and bathing in the fountains right in the heart of our beautiful city. I can hear us through the decades every time I go into the city, the reminders are right there. For most of the time they make me smile in remembrance. Some of the happiest days of my life where spent with the gang. At times we could almost convince ourselves that the way we were living was normal, because it became ‘normal’ to us.

3.              How has your life changed since you wrote Empty Chairs?

My geographical location has changed. I am now delighted to be living back in the heart of Sydney with my daughter. We share a rented apartment together and that arrangement has worked out so wonderfully well. She is probably the only other human being I would even consider living with. As for her, yes…she has said the same thing. We get on so damned well together, it’s unusual apparently for mother and child to feel that way as adults. She is now expecting her first child, and we are both like a couple of silly kids enjoying the wonder of the whole thing.

As for my personal life, I have been absolutely blown away by the numbers of total strangers that have reached out to me since the book came out. People that have thanked me for sharing the horror of my childhood, simply because it gave them a measure of understanding of what does go on even today, behind closed doors. For some folks they have shared with me the fact that they too have been abused and my work has given them a push toward seeking some help with their fears and remembered pain.

4.              From the comments on Amazon and various blogs, you have touched many, many lives in a positive way. How does that make you feel?

It’s a responsibility. I have to be so careful in this regard, for I am not a qualified counselor, I am not a professional in the field of abuse; I am simply someone that managed to scrape a life out for herself, and not linger in the pain of memories. People ask me for advice that I can only give as a person that lived beyond it. Perhaps they feel that if I could do it, they can do it.

Whatever the reasons I am hopeful that perhaps one or two or even a few people male and female may be prompted to seek professional advice where they may have been too overwhelmed to before they read Empty Chairs.

5.              Has anyone told you that your books have helped them practically, such as given them courage to walk away from abuse?

Yes, several people have entered into correspondence online with me in that regard. I doubt that I would have given them the courage to walk away. That courageous first step can only come from deep within the individual.

Perhaps I have simply helped them become aware that what they have going on currently or have gone through in their past, is not insurmountable.

In today’s world the awareness is far more common. The powers that be recognize that this monstrous behavior exists in numbers people find unbelievable and overwhelming.

Sadly it has desensitized many folks to the problem.

The numbers of people coming forward and talking about this dreadful thing, and indeed any violence perpetrated against an unwilling person, be they child or adult have swamped the professionals and the media.

My concern is that too many people will ignore what is going on around them simply because they think the problem is too overwhelming to be dealt with. They are wrong. Each and every human being has a right to a quality of life un-tempered by fear and reprisal.

6.              I read that you re-visited the places of your childhood recently. Did it help? Did it make you feel worse?
I knew it was something I needed to do before I began writing Faint Echoes of Laughter. When I finished writing Empty Chairs I fell ill. A combination of physical factors and emotional distress I underwent whilst writing the book culminated in very poor health.

When I made the decision to write Faint Echoes I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it without going back and facing the remaining demons. I was shocked at just how vulnerable it made me feel to go back to the house where most of the abuse took place. I thought I would be able to stand there and look at it as just bricks and mortar…I was so very wrong. However once I had done it, and also revisited some places that had happy memories connected to them I knew I could write the book without as many harrowing flashbacks as before.

I still had bad ones, but not the debilitating ones I went through when writing Empty Chairs.

7.              What happened to your street friends, are they still with us?

No, Catherine. Apart from Jamie and myself they are all gone. It distresses me a great deal to talk about that. I cover it in the book. Most of those wonderful people ended their own lives. It should have been so different.

8.              What next for you as an author?

I have written two fiction novels and they will be published later this year. I want to see if I have what it takes to write good fiction, a totally different ballgame to writing both Empty Chairs and Faint Echoes of Laughter. I would like to spend my time creating characters and stories that allow folks to escape into them. Reading was always a savior for me, I would dearly love to create somewhere people can escape to with my writing. Time will tell.

9.          I hear you are to become a grandmother soon, how does that make you feel?

Joyous! Totally and completely joyous. My daughter is such a delight and has given me so much to be thankful for since the day she was born…the fact that she is going to have a baby is just the most wonderful news.
I am so damned thrilled that I have been granted the gift of still being here to experience being a Grandparent. How lucky I am.

I and every one with an ounce of humanity in the world, wish you the very best.

………………………..End of Interview……………………………….

Thank you so much Stacey and Lily Cat for this lovely exchange between two great authors and wonderful human beings and friends!!

Before I give you the links to Stacey’s Books, I want to share the Amazon review I wrote after reading Faint Echoes of Laughter:

There are people in this world – not big, famous names with lots of money and thus lots of opportunities – but real-life humans like Stacey Danson, who have had to fight awful ordeals and won despite all the odds; they deserve our reverence and show us what the real stuff is that heroes are made of; they are the flesh-and-blood survivors we like to read about, or watch on the screen.

But that’s only about Stacey’s beautiful personality.

As a reader we are in equal awe of her capacity to get her own story down on paper in straightforward, unadorned prose and turn her own thorny path into a page-turner, a wonderful warm, loving account of how she focuses on the good things that happened in her life after she escaped from her childhood hell. No ghost-writer needed here, she does it all herself.

I will not go into the contents of Stacey’s story as other reviewers have already done that extensively. In fact, I feel the reader cannot add anything to Faint Echoes of Laughter: it stands, it is, it reveals itself and we can only cry and rejoice. Oh, and hope Stacey’s bright light will enlighten more dark corners on this globe where child abuse lurks, and give hope to the hopeless, courage to the broken and healing to the wounded.

I truly hope Stacey Danson’s life story will be turned into a film as I believe it needs to reach and educate as many people as possible.

Please read Faint Echoes of Laughter and help spread Ms Danson’s light. It is so warm, so hopeful, so REAL!

Hannah

Links to Stacey’s books:
Her Amazon page:
http://www.amazon.com/Stacey-Danson/e/B004MTPFUK/ref=sr_tc_2_rm?qid=1330254376&sr=8-2-ent
Empty Chairs on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Empty-Chairs-ebook/dp/B004K6MJJK/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1 (Kindle)
http://www.amazon.com/Empty-Chairs-story-about-child/dp/1453858520/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_2 (Paperback)
Faint Echoes of Laughter on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Faint-Echoes-of-Laughter-ebook/dp/B006X17HGK/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1330254376&sr=8-3 (Kindle)
http://www.amazon.com/Faint-Echoes-Laughter-Stacey-Danson/dp/146990683X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1330254376&sr=8-1 (Paperback)

A heart ripped open

My heart is ripped open again, I catch the drop of bloods in my cupped hands and gaze at them through mist-filled eyes. My blood, the blood of centuries.

It isn’t a leaving lover, it isn’t even the funeral of a dear friend I’m about to attend, it is deeper, more permanent than the bonds of this life untying themselves from me.

It is the stories, the echoes of stories that bring me to my knees, I go down every  time before I know it, before I recognise the pain, when I am still singing victory standing on my chariot in full daylight, when in fact I’m sinking, my heart pulled out, showing me the inside of my mortality.

The stories are always about the war that returns, war is the permanence of every story that will hook itself in my flesh, the grimmest state of human contact. I cannot let go, I have to know, I have to dig and dig until I find what’s hidden under the scorched soil, my nails breaking, my knees grazed, at the edge of my despair. All I find is a bleeding heart, the most virgin state of all. It cannot heal for it would die
if it did. It pulsates with the clock of history, unearthing our human wreckage, the tears witness of our truest state.

We think in absolutes and embrace them.

Sometimes I do not bleed, I iron shirts, I break eggs in a bowl or I comb my hair without watching myself, just the hair, a thing remotely part of me, bloodless. I think I can manage being that person, going here and there and not feeling too affected by the stories. It seems to work out well, sometimes for weeks on end, I step  through my day more certain I can do without a heart that bleeds. I manage life, keep it smooth and well tucked in like a shirt. I smile and fool myself, encouraging the semi order of things.

For my eyes don’t fall on the bare filigree branches of the birch tree silhouetted against the pastels of the evening sky, a plume of smoke from a chimney indicating warmth within, a flock of birds, black wings, swirling against the tender, outstretched colours, perfect in harmony, the only peace we know. I don’t see it, for I see objects, tasks, goals, useful relations, sleep, food. Life as a slight part of me.

When the stories come back, I have to look backwards, I look within, the sharp anguish when they take me apart. They force me to see everything, everywhere as the pulsating vein of life.

How I need the stories, but how they hurt.

Sessha Batto – the cover girl

Sessha Batto, author, long-time video specialist and loyal virtual friend is responsible for the covers of my first two books. Casablanca, My Heart to be published by Night Publishing in the early spring of 2012 and the second Prior To You a work in progress, for which I needed a cover to keep me going during Nano in November 2011 (National Novel Writing Month).

Next to being a real pro in her work, she is verrrryyy patient. And don’t forget how wonderful it is that you have a say in your own covers, something unheard of in traditional publishing. Whenever you need a cover, go to Sessha and let yourself be surprised!

I know Sessha is the magic – albeit almost invisible – hand behind numerous other covers and as I am curious by nature, I wanted to ask her all about her talent, knowing how pleased all the authors are with the eye-catching beauty she creates for them every single time. What is the art of cover-making like? Those who know Sessha and how modest she is about her huge talent, will understand how thrilled I am she consented to answering my nosy questions.

How long have you been making covers and how did that develop?

I started making book covers when I started writing seriously in 2009. I’ve been an
artist all my life, and spent over 25 years working in motion graphics so creating a visual to summarize my writing was a natural. I also find that early in the writing process cover ideas can help set a visual tone I can mirror in the text.

Can you tell us something about the technique of cover making?

Well, for me it starts with genre, you want to fit in with other books in the genre and yet be distinctive! That in itself, can be a challenge. I read the synopsis and then listen to what the writer thinks are the important elements. If they have pictures they used for reference, even better as everyone pictures things slightly differently. Then it’s off to look for photos. On average one of my covers uses ten to fifteen different images, although there have been a few that only use one or two. Then it’s off to photoshop where the images are cut, colored, positioned and effects are added. Then it’s on to type. Finding the perfect font or fonts to complement the image.

Which part of the design process do you like best?

My favorite part is composition, melding all the tiny bits pieces to, hopefully, reveal the image you were looking for.

What types of covers have you made?

A little bit of everything, YA, literary fiction, crime and thrillers, romance, sci-fi, fantasy, erotica. I’m willing to give most anything a try.

Apart from satisfied customers have you had remarkable reactions on your covers after the books were published?

A buyer from Barnes and Noble liked them very much, which made me smile. I also got a huge kick out of seeing Company of Fellows by Dan Holloway on display in the window of Blackwell’s after it won best Oxford novel last year.

How long on average does it take you to make a cover?

About a day for the first draft. After that it’s a back and forth, sometimes very few
changes, others starting over from scratch.

Do you have a favourite genre to make covers for? And if so, which one?

I’d say literary fiction, simply because there are fewer genre conventions so the possibilities are wide open.

Is there a big difference between your cover art and that of the commercial publishing houses? If so, what are the differences?

Absolutely there are differences. I don’t usually commission photography especially for a cover, instead I try to combine stock photos in new and unique ways. I don’t necessarily follow the trends and conventions quite so rigidly, either.

Which is the best cover you ever made, according to yourself? Why?

That’s an incredibly tough question, I have a number of favorites for different reasons.

Are you in a network of cover artists? If so, how and what do you communicate with each other?

Not really. I know a few but, as with most businesses apart from writing, people tend to be very competitive and keep to themselves.

Is it difficult to discuss ideas about covers via email with your virtual customers? How do you solve problems?

Actually it’s about the same communicating in person as by e-mail. In general, the more a writer knows about how things look in his world, the easier it is. The more information they can pass on, the better. Except, and I really hate having to say this as I am a book junkie, but artists really do not have time to read the book before designing the cover. The quality of the final product really depends on the writer giving the artist detailed info in visual terms.

Any plans going commercial?

Absolutely. I’ve always been commercial, I’m just lousy at advertising myself. Anyone who’s interested can go take a look at my cover gallery. http://sesshabattousai.com/Book_Covers.html
and see if my style appeals to them. I’m now working in conjunction with the lovely Diane Nelson offering complete book prep services – editing, formating
and covers.

Bio:

Sessha is a sword-carrying Buddhist writer of angsty homoerotic fiction. She turned to writing full time after a twenty year stint in video production editing, scripting and creating motion graphics. Originally from Belfast, she lives in the States with her husband, son, very old cat and too many swords.

Thank you so much for this interview, dear Sessha!

Too many issues…

Guestblog on Young Adult literature by R.B. Harkess.

Life has so many facets. Writing has so many facets. Today I’m overjoyed to be able to post a guestblog on a writing topic I myself have zero knowledge about: YA literature. It wasn’t a household name when I was young because everybody (had to) read books – like it or not. There were children’s books and adult books but the ones for the age group in between was only vaguely distinguished, or at least that was my perception.

At the ripe age of eleven I had read my way through all the children’s books available in the library and was allowed to cross the hallway to the adult section. Nobody checked what I borrowed there; the small-town library was well-established in self-censoring the books they lended out.

I’m not going to extensively introduce R.B. to you as I’ll soon post an interview with this author in the interview section of my website. An avid reader as a young kid just like me, so much is clear.

So stay tuned! Enjoy R.B.’s views on books for youngsters and please leave a comment if you feel like it.

R.B.:

I was spending an idle afternoon flicking through the “Children’s Writers and Artists Yearbook”, and my eye was taken by a very interesting article by Gille Russell on the content of YA books. In a nutshell, Russell suggested there were “…too many issues-based books…teens need a varied diet”. Issues here implied pregnancy, self-harm, drugs and abuse.

When I started writing fiction for young adults, the first thing that came into my head (apart from the story) was something along the lines of ‘What the heck am I talking about?’ I’ll be honest; I hadn’t really read much YA, and I wasn’t even sure what the definitions were to make something count as YA.

So I started doing some research, and ended up on a number of sites I won’t actually mention, but which almost made me abandon the book. I found one community that believed that the only valid YA books had ‘a message’, and another community that believed that YA books had to deal with ‘teen issues’.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t disagree with either camp. I have no problem with books having a message – just so long as they don’t try to preach or coerce. I certainly don’t have a problem with books that deal with ‘teen issues’. Provided that the issues are dealt with constructively as well as realistically, they could be an absolute lifeline to someone. Support comes in many guises, and talking to another person isn’t always the best first step.

What I’m not comfortable with is anybody who suggests, for whatever reason, that YA literature has no value or worth if it doesn’t fall into either camp. Just like adults, kids and teens all need ‘down time’, a little escapism to lift them out of the world and show them somewhere else. Doesn’t matter what the genre is; paranormal romance, urban fantasy or dystopic adventure. What matters is that there is a place we can help young adults and kids go where they can feel there’s no ‘hidden agenda’.

The story I was writing was a science fiction adventure just like the ones I used to enjoy when I was in that wonderful time when my reading seemed to offer the whole universe to me – all on an 8 x 6 inch sheet of pulped wood. I carried on writing it, aiming to please the 12 or 14 year old me, the kid that spent most of his lunchtimes using the inter-reality portal cunningly disguised as Bristol Central Lending Library. I guess I did something right.

It got published.

Bio

“R B Harkess was born in Bristol but now lives just outside London, and studied a mad mixture of subjects at the Open University which had nothing to do with a career in I.T. The idea to write for a younger audience came as a flash of
inspiration whilst on holiday in Wiltshire, and the outline for the first book was written in two days. The rest of the family were not impressed with the timing of this.

Having only started writing seriously again in 2009, R B Harkess found an idea that would not work until he wrote it for a younger audience, and is now addicted to the genre.

Writing is complicated by a real-world job, and two cats – one of which likes to lie on the printer, which really doesn’t help”

“Aphrodite’s Dawn” now available from Amazon

www.rbharkess.co.uk for news, facebook and twitter links

Thank you, R.B.!!