Walk with Fragrance

With all the talk of Wimbledon and grass (a very important subject if you’re a Wimbledon player, official, or fan), I thought I would post about a very different form of lawn.

If you think “The Camomile Lawn” is the title of a book by Mary Wesley, you’d be right. Out of her novels, it’s my second favourite book of hers and I’m delighted to own a signed copy. The novel was turned into a television production described as very close to the original book. This mini-series starred Felicity Kendal, and Paul Eddington of “The Good Life” fame. It also starred Tara Fitzgerald and Claire Bloom, among other recognisable names.

The story is a dramatic backdrop to wartime England as seen through the eyes of five cousins. The expansive camomile lawn sits at the back of a large house owned by one of the character’s aunts. Being the favourite holiday spot for the cousins they gather there in August 1939 at a time when they are still able to enjoy the innocence of youth, even while facing the imminent prospect of war. The novel moves back and forth from this picturesque setting to the devastation of a bombed London where people fight for survival with all the wit and warmth that is common to the human spirit when faced with such dire circumstances. The cousins suffer through loves and losses, while holding dear to the memory of that more innocent time when they played on The Camomile Lawn. Memories of these sometimes-dangerous games (such as “The Terror Run” on the cliff path) are recalled when years later the family gather for a funeral. They also recall their uninhibited behaviour during the war.

One might well wonder why Mary Wesley chose such a setting as a camomile lawn for the book if one has not experienced “walking with fragrance” a phrase coined by one UK supplier. The scent is such that it could well invoke rich memories, memory being a profound theme of the book. Originating from Greek, the name chamomile, or camomile, means “earth-apple” and although it relates more to the way the plant grows low to the ground and the daisy-like flower some varieties can produce, I liken it more to the scent. Camomile is not a grass, nor related to one. It is a ground-covering plant like many rockery plants. I’ve discovered that it grows and spreads by sending out shoots on all sides from which further roots seem to form and travel down into the soil. Larger plants can have some shoots carefully removed and replanted to fill in barer spots.

Like most herbs, camomile has a long history of therapeutic uses, ranging from skin disorders, cancer treatments, and anti-inflammation creams. Most famously, we associate camomile with its calming influence, particularly with regard to herbal tea. Of the many thousands of people who regularly purchase camomile tea, probably few have heard of growing a whole lawn out of this plant and yet it creates the softest, most springy lawn imaginable. Note: I am not telling you to grow a lawn and make your tea out of it. There are many varieties of this plant and some are better for growing purposes, while others more palatable for tea. Like any plant, do not ingest it unless you are certain it is safe to do so.

A camomile lawn is not only pleasurable to walk on because of its bouncy trait but because of the incredible scent that’s released when the plant is trodden on or rained upon. Elizabethan England knew all about camomile and many poets sang its praises. Buckingham Palace boasts a camomile lawn that dates back to George V.

The one practical advantage of the modern variety of camomile grown for lawns is that the plants require no cutting. You can choose between flowering and non-flowering varieties but I always chose Treneague (available from www.camomilelawns.co.uk). No, I don’t have shares in the company, nor am I advertising for them, but if you’re interested in growing a lawn of your own this is my recommendation, although neither I nor the company can guarantee success. I can only say that I’ve never been exactly green-fingered but if there is one plant I simply “must have” in my garden, it is this.

Here is a picture of the camomile lawn in my last garden.

I was devastated that I had to leave it behind. In my new home, we have too much concrete for my liking. I have started by planting some areas with camomile this year, and I began with this:

This photo was taken on the day of planting. They are coming along and I fully expect that by the end of this summer this area will be a full, soft, rich green.

The most important thing to consider when choosing to plant a camomile lawn is the scent. Some liken it to apples. I agree but I find that it also makes me think of “citrus” and “fresh”, literally as in a breath of fresh air. I’ve found that the scent seems to clean the air and that breathing in the fragrance for me has a cooling effect. You’ll find this and other information on the camomile site as mentioned above, including that this could be the answer to hayfever sufferers. Choose the non-flowering variety and there’s no pollen! So, green in dry summers, no cutting, a great scent, you can use it to grow a whole lawn or in feature spots (even as a seat!) or as your main path, because the one thing camomile likes is to be walked on! Walk on it and it grows better. You can intermingle it with other plants, with flagstones, with shingle. The only rule is don’t plant it with any form of grass. The grass is too invasive and will take over. Go on. Walk with fragrance. I can’t scream it’s praises enough…although, I doubt Wimbledon would consider it as an alternative for tennis.

UK writer’s conference

The UK isn’t a particularly friendly place when it comes to small press published and independantly published authors.  All the book fairs are by invitation only, and you only get an invitation if you’re already a celebrity.

So, we thought we would try to start up our own little con.  Start small and grow sustainably   If you’re interested in taking part in or helping to organise a (not too ambitious at present, but with potential) UK writers’ conference and book fair, please either join the yahoo group

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/writingconference2010/

or bookmark the blog

http://britlitcon.wordpress.com/

Hopefully by 2010 we can all meet up at our own event!

Grass!

Talking of the green, green grass of Wimbledon, there’s a fascinating blog post about lawns, their history and their uses at Mark Easton’s blog on the BBC Website.  It seemed too appropriate not to pass it on!

Anyone for tennis?

It’s that time of year again: strawberries, rain, athletic young folk leaping about in whites, and the gentle thwack of balls.  Tennis balls, that is.  Yup, Wimbledon is here again.  Two weeks of joy for tennis fans, two weeks of fuming and searching the tv listings for *anything* that isn’t tennis for those of a less sporting persuasion.  But hey, it is only once a year.

For me, it’s two weeks of bliss that bring back happy memories of perching on Mum’s knee and watching the likes of Ilie Nastase and a young Jimmy Connors on a grainy black and white tv.  These days it’s slightly less of an event, simply because thanks to cable television there’s more chance to catch up with our tennis heroes and heroines week in, week out.  Back then, if you missed the action at Wimbledon, you’d have to wait a whole year before you saw tennis again, with the minor exception of the US Open final.  Not the whole tournament, you understand – just the final.

So, for the next two weeks I may not be at my desk much.  Instead you can find me camped in the living room with a tray of sandwiches, and perhaps a laptop, hooked up to the telly and imbibing tennis intravenously.  As long as it doesn’t rain, of course.  Because Wimbledon is played on grass, the matches have to be stopped if it rains, in case someone slips over and hurts themselves.  This year, the All England Club have gone to vast expense to fit a roof over Centre Court, so that at least one match can continue if the heavens open.  Normally the spectators hate rain because it plays havoc with their viewing schedule.  This year, according to a BBC website survey, 80% actually want it to rain so they can see the new roof in action.

Including me, I’m ashamed to say.

Hello and wobbe gwain ev?

‘Hell is other people’. Of course it is. And that’s not me being existential (although I subscribe totally to that view of the world and especially that interpretation of identity and social interaction), it’s just me stating the obvious. We’re judged by how we look and what we wear. And I’m not just bemoaning the fact that, as a decrepit male, I can’t be photographed standing naked behind a pile of my books and hope it’ll create a sudden boost in sales. Anyway, perhaps most of all, we’re judged by how we speak.

(As an aside, I should add that writers are also judged by their books. After reading a passage from my first book where my detective sits at traffic lights watching schoolgirls cross the road and reflecting on how they look, my wife said ‘Oh. So you fancy schoolgirls then, do you?’)

No, as a writer of both novels and plays, it’s the speaking bit of the equation that interests me. Without wishing to offend anyone, I’d suggest that if you have a character saying ‘The proliferation of epistolary exegesis prohibits the development of arcane terminology to a devastating extent’, he won’t be carrying a hod on a building site. Nor will he be sharing a pint with someone who says ‘Oi, wanker! Shift your arse.’ But, again, that’s self-evident.

No, the real problems arise when you want to convey accents. If someone has a strong regional accent of any sort, that’s part of who they are. Take the accent away from them and they cease to be the same person. The trouble for the writer is that he/she needs to convey the accent in such a way that the reader doesn’t have to stop to ask ‘WTF’s that all about?’

I encountered this with that first book. It’s set where I live, in Aberdeen. I come originally from Plymouth, so you can imagine the disparity between the accents I heard when I was growing up and those I hear nowadays. In a pub in Plymouth (and I know because I lived in one) you’ll hear ‘Wobbe gwain ev?’ The same question in an Aberdeen pub might be ‘Fitchy for?’ Both are asking you what you want to drink. In ‘correct’ English, the first is ‘What are you going to have?’ and the second is ‘What are you for?’

So when, naturally enough, I made some of my fictional local coppers speak with an Aberdeen accent, my editor in London put me straight right away. ‘Fa ye spikkin till?’ (To whom are you speaking?) and ‘Fa’s ‘e loon?’ (Who is that boy?) would mean nothing at all to anyone south of Stonehaven and her suggestion was that I should restrict myself to letting the characters say ‘Aye’ to indicate that they were Scots. In the end, there had to be a compromise, so they weren’t incomprehensible, but they did retain some of their accents.

The annoying thing then was that, in an otherwise very enthusiastic review of my second book, the local paper wrote ‘Some of the Scots dialogue is a little suspect and inconsistent’.

See what I mean? Hell really is other people.

“Kissed by a Rose” – Contemporary Erotic Romance Novel – Released Today

My Latest novel, Kissed by a Rose, has hit the virtual bookshelves, priced at $6. At ninety-thousand words long, it’s my longest to date and, if I do say so myself, my best. (Well, I would say that, wouldn’t I?)

Kissed by a Rose is the story of an ordinary student, Adam Smith, living an ordinary university life in Westmouth, a small town on the South Coast of England, until he stumbles across the girl of his dreams. Quite literally in this case as the girl he stumbles upon is teen-idol movie star, Chloe Goodman.

Chloe is the very definition of a young English Rose – Beautiful. Charming. Intelligent. And folks in Hollywood are tipping her as the ‘next big thing’. But Chloe’s life on campus isn’t all wine and song, as Adam discovers when he finds her alone in the library, crying her eyes out.

Is Adam just what the young starlet needs? Is Chloe the best thing to ever happen to the young undergraduate? Or will one of them get hurt? Or will they both?

The only way to find out is to read the book. You can get it (and my other books) direct from the Phaze website -

If you’re looking for a romance novel that is a little bit different, Kissed by a Rose is for you. It’s told entirely from the hero’s point of view. It’s through Adam’s eyes that we see events unfold. It’s Adam’s thoughts, feelings and fears that we experience. And you’ll soon discover that Adam isn’t a stereotypical romantic hero. He doesn’t have a perfect body. He doesn’t always make the right choice or do the right thing. But he’s a real man, with real feelings – and he can get hurt. But he’s no wimp. When Chloe needs him – he stands up for the woman he loves. Just like a real man should.

People who’ve already read Kissed by a Rose are showering it with praise.

Lourenza Adlem said…

I want to congratulate you on a wonderful love story. Every single one of your characters had the ring of truth. You make it all seem so effortless. A very smooth reading experience.

Barbara Elsborg said…

It’s a tightly written novel which explores the pressures of stardom and celebrity and keeps the reader guessing until the very end. The sex was steamy and got hotter and hotter.

And Cassie Exline said

Kissed by a Rose is a must read for the summer. Sizzling sex blends with tender moments. With his deftness for detail, he has a way of making characters come to life and leap off the page. Just when you think you know what’s going to happen next—you’re wrong.

Interested? Want to know more? Check my website or blog, or search Twitter for the hashcode #KbaR. You’ll find excerpts, one liners and interviews with the cast.

And after you read Kissed by a Rose why not tell the whole world what you thought of it via Twitter? Just sum up your thoughts in 130 characters and append them with the hashtag #KbaR.

Kissed by a Rose – His Power. His Pleasure. His Pain.

Available now!

A Sign of the Political Times? – #bbcqt

It must be a sign of the interesting times in which we live, but the BBC have moved their ‘flagship’ political debate programme, Question Time, from it’s regular Thursday night 10:30pm (after the news) slot to a prime time, before the news, 9pm slot. I don’t know if this is a permanent change or not – I suspect not – but it does tell you just how troubled our democracy is in here in Blighty.

The scandal of PM’s expenses which has gripped the nation for almost two weeks now and has led to the effective sacking of the third most powerful person in the country, is the primary reason for tonight’s move. The last time that I can recall the BBC moving Question Time, was during the last election, when the Prime Minister faced questions from the public (as did the other two leaders, but in a change from the usual format they appeared on the platform individually rather than together. TB wasn’t keen on the idea of an actual ‘debate’ with his opponents).

Last week’s Question Time was the most compelling sixty minutes of television in a very long time. Three unfortunate MPs were offered up for public sacrifice by their parties and were joined on the panel by one of the deputy editors of The Daily Telegraph, the newspaper that broke this story, and the head of McDonalds in the UK. Now, it’s been said many times over the last week by many people, but when the head of MaccyD’s is able to take the moral high ground over the MPs, you know we’re in the crapper.

Margaret Beckett for Labour, Menzies Campbell for the Lib Dems and Theresa May for the Tories, had all obviously done something to upset someone in their parties to be put forward for the show – although I think the Lib Dems thought Menzies might keel over with heart failure and attract some sympathy for their side.

The usually sedate, polite, very ‘English”’ audience were actually heckling the panel, booing and one man got so angry he looked as if a blood vessel in his forehead might explode. I have truly never seen anything like it.

It was such a spectacle that it even made the news programmes on other channels the next day. If the MPs hadn’t already judged the mood of the electorate, then certainly got the message during that fascinating hour. The week since then has continued to see revelations about the expense claims of MPs on all sides – today we learned about the MP who claimed a floating duck house for his garden pond on expenses – and has seen some major political casualties as a result – the biggest so far being the Speaker of the House of Commons, Michael Martin, who was forced to announce his retirement from the position he’s held since 2000 after suffering a cringe-making verbal assault by MPs in the chamber on Tuesday.

I am being very careful here not to let this post spill over into my opinion of this whole scandal and the MPs who appear to have been milking the system for all its worth. If I start, I don’t think I’ll ever stop. Instead, I’ll guide my international audience – who may not know what the hell I’m on about – to the BBC’s coverage.

What I will say is that I’ believe we are watching the collapse of a democracy here. The trust that the British people have had for the institution of Parliament (not the MPs within it – I don’t think we’ve ever fully trusted them. I’m talking about the institution itself) is evaporating before out eyes. The ‘Mother of Parliaments’ is on its knees.

I have never known (and I admit, at 35 I wasn’t around during the day old days of the 70s) the mood of the country to be so angry – not just with the government, but with all of them. I only hope that the party leaders who are currently in the spotlight can show some genuine leadership and restore the trust in the oldest parliament in the world.

ps, what’s with the “#bbcqt” in the blog title? Well, it’s to do with “Twitter”. Hastags are used on Twitter to help people find tweets on particular topics. #bbcqt is the tag for anything to do with the Question Time programme, and is becoming synonymous with tweets regarding UK politics in general. ‘Live Tweeting” of QT, where folks at home make comments on the show as it’s shown, has been going on since around February. It’s enhanced my enjoyment of the show no end. Last week, for the first time, the hashtag was ‘trending’. There were so many people commenting on the show and using the tag that it showed up as a worldwide ‘hot topic’. We had people from America asking what it was all about. One even commented “Oh dear, the Brits are trending again”. So, look out for the tag tonight on the search.twitter.com website. 9pm – 10pm BST. It should be interesting to say the least.

pps – this is an article written for my regular blog, posted here as I thought you’d find it interesting.

Another One Bites the Dust

Please note, this is a slightly edited version of a short article I wrote a few years ago, highlighting the plight of small press magazines. It has appeared as a reprint no less than seven times. Even though it was a reprint, both print and electronic publications kept snapping it up every time I subbed it, which cannot give a clearer indication of how I struck a cord with the difficulties they face. Alas, the problem affects many authors who need these markets in order to succeed.

Potential talent has always had the problem of being recognised, tapped, and finding its place in the world. Writers everywhere have reason to mourn each time they say a fond farewell to yet another of their advocates, and bury the remains in the expanding graveyard of small-press magazines.

Editors of, and writers for, these magazines face the same conundrum. Such magazines have selected availability and are usually obtainable by post or limited outlets. Therefore, the majority of the public do not get the opportunity to view much of the excellent body of work that is out there. Consequently, editors who wish to help talented writers often end up financing such endeavours from their own funds, for at least the first few years if not indefinitely. Struggling writers end up supporting the very publications that may help to launch successful careers that might otherwise have the misfortune of falling by the wayside. This leaves both the editor and writer ‘numb’ and disillusioned.

The subject is often further confused by the mistaken belief that editors and writers have ‘unlimited’ funds. The truth is the majority of writers, even published ones, often need to support their income by working on a part-time, if not full-time basis. Even when a small press publication is doing well, the editor usually tries to show his appreciation by paying contributors, even failing to cover costs, making it definitely a love rather than profit venture. Hence, many publications are transforming into ‘webzines’ as these are considerably cheaper to produce. This has a mixed reaction. On the one hand, I’ve come across a particular kind of snobbery that publishing on the ‘web’ isn’t real publishing. But the truth is, if your work has to meet a certain standard and demands of an editor, it should be no less valid than if produced in print. This form of publishing needs to be encouraged, not sneered at – it is, after all, meant to be a new millennium. In this regard, the advent of email makes submissions and replies cheaper for the editor and writer alike – it’s not only time that concerns the writer but the cost of paper, ink and postage. Writing can be ultimately one of the most rewarding experiences, but it is also costly in time and money.

From a writer’s point of view I try to support at least one such publication on a regular basis and others ‘as and when’, which also keeps me up to date with what they are currently publishing. In addition to this – as pointed out to me by editor, Trevor Denyer, of Roadworks magazine (now currently the editor of Midnight Street), – “I can’t emphasize enough how important it is for writers submitting their work, to study the market by buying AT LEAST one copy of the magazine. If everyone who submitted work did that, it would go a long way to helping protect the markets that they rely on.”

I also have to admit that, when I’m going to be in print, I’m not above telling friends and family and asking how many copies they would like. I’ve heard so often how proud they are and I’m only asking that they put their money where their mouth is! I’m asking no more or less than I would do for them. After all, they fork out good money for total strangers and value their books for a lifetime!

Night to Dawn is just one example of a small press magazine and issue 15 features my short story “Effigy in Garnet” (which is also available in Aoife’s Kiss September 2007 issue from Sam’s Dot Publishing). As for my story, is it romantic? Yes, though in a rather dark way. Is it horror? Yes. It’s been described as “a keeper” and one that an editor couldn’t refuse. Seeing as two editors felt that way, I think that’s a good enough recommendation. As you can tell I’m especially proud of this story, though for those of you who know me best for my romance novels this is definitely a different style of story-telling but one I enjoy immensely. You can purchase Night to Dawn at www.bloodredshadows.com

What’s in a name?

By Geoff Nelder

I laughed the other day because I received a request from a baby naming site to link with my writing one. Initially, I thought this was a curious variation of a Nigerian bank scam, but once my stomach subsided I realized there was some sense here.

 

When I started writing fiction, characters’ names appeared from a mix of telephone directories, atlases and local newspapers. A snag with the directory method is repetition and so time consuming. As my fiction reached into more exotic parts I found a site with a name engine that gave me lists of real names from different continents.

 

Choosing the right name for a character is as important, if not more so, than choosing one for a newborn. You don’t want a tough gangster being called Cedric, or – I realize I may be upsetting real people here – an academic called Buster. It isn’t so simple. One of our aims is to have our main characters undergo change during the plot. The change is usually one gleaned from experience such as surviving a crisis, or it could be a coming of age. For such a character a name that can also ‘grow up’ is handy. That’s why many novels use Robert. Bobby as the kid, Rob as he matures, Robert as a gentleman then Bob as an ancient with dementia.

 

As my main genres are science fiction and fantasy I have great fun making up names. It was a voyage of discovery when I conjured up a name for a prehistoric man living in the Middle East. Twenty thousand years ago was before any established religion so Mohammed was out. However, I reasoned that since that region would likely have had a proto-language that led to early Arabic. I played around with Omar but although ancient was too new for my character. I felt I needed a Q in there since it is a feature of so many names in that region. Oqmar thus was born. If you google Oqmar 99% of the hits are for my ancient man in my recent book.

 

So what was the link I was asked to make from my website? It is Quick Baby Names. I gladly acceded because apart from having spent months trying to convince daughter that Ewan is a great name for her baby, the site gives the derivation and meanings. My daughter chose  Oliver, and he’s gorgeous.

What the *@#%* is a radgepacket?

The mysterious radgepacket…

I’m in a slightly weird position here. A few weeks ago I had a short story accepted by Byker Books for their latest anthology, which has the utterly unforgettable title of ‘Radgepacket – Tales From the Inner Cities Volume 2′. Of course, I was delighted – but I was also slightly baffled. And that bafflement has stayed, because in spite of emailing the editor regularly, reading the whole of the first anthology, and visiting the Byker Books website every other day, I still have no idea whatsoever what a radgepacket is. And that annoys me.

There are a couple of clues. For starters Byker Books is based in Newcastle, so I’m assuming it’s Geordie, or at least north-eastern, slang. And two, they specialise in dark, gritty, even shocking urban fiction of the sort your Aunt Agatha would faint if she read, so I’m assuming it has something to do with that. But otherwise, I’m stumped – and what’s more, a friend of mine who was born within spitting distance of Byker has also never come across the term.

So, can anyone out there come to the rescue? Is it something horribly rude, or in spite of appearances is it actually quite normal and dull? I would love to know!

By the way, the story I’ve had published is called ‘Rock and a Hard Place’ and involves Jed, an ageing rock star whose pushy manager suggests he pretends to be gay in order to attract the pink pound and sell more records. Needless to say all does not run according to plan and there are twists and double-twists galore as Jed meets his supposed boyfriend Simon, goes clubbing, enters a lookalike contest for himself, and generally tries to stay sane.

Here’s a brief taster to whet your appetites:

It’s all old Hinchcliffe’s fault that Jed Lemmon turned gay. There I was lounging in bed one Sunday afternoon, hand resting on some blonde babe’s left boob, when there was pandemonium downstairs and before I knew it he was banging on the bedroom door. That kind of pissed me off. I mean, I know he’s my manager and I gave him the key myself, but even rock stars deserve some privacy – even washed-up old scrotes like me.

I patted Suzie on the rump and sent her home, then scraped my jeans off the bedroom floor and dragged them on. A quick swig from the flask I’d hidden by the bed and I was more-or-less ready to face the old man.

“Wotcha Jed,” he said, grinning from ear to ear and jabbing me in the chest. “How’s things with you?”

“Oh fine, just fine,” I mumbled, trying not to watch as Suzie’s Jeep sped off bad-temperedly down the drive. “What can I do for you, Mr H?”

It was the usual – of course it was. He dropped the bonhomie, even as he dropped his rump into an over-padded chair. “Business as well as pleasure, Jed. Records, to be precise. We’re not selling enough. Sales are down for the seventh month in a row – nobody’s buying your stuff.”

I took my time lighting a cigarette. “I’m sorry, Mr H. I’ve done everything you said. I can’t think of anything else.” Well, why the hell should I? It’s why I pay him a bloody great wad of my earnings every month.

“I know – and I’m proud of you. But don’t worry, I’ve had a brainwave.”

My heart sank. Great bloke, old Hinchcliffe, and I couldn’t have got where I am without his help. But his brainwaves are notorious. We’d already had the Jed novelty hats and the posters given away with Choco-flakes, and as for Jed Lemmon dressing up as an orange to advertise yoghurt – I’d had nightmares for months.

His jaw developed a horizontal crack that might have been a smile. “It’s simple. We tell the world you’re gay.”

If you’d like to find out whether Jed gets out of it all unscathed you can find more details on my website, or you can order the anthology direct from Byker Books. Be warned, though, their fiction is high-octane stuff. As they themselves say, don’t buy the book if you like happy endings or stories about kittens playing with bits of string.

And someone, please, put me out of my misery and tell me what that darned radgepacket is….