First Person Author Bio:
I was born in Liverpool, England, the youngest of six and spent most of my childhood running through the garden; either being chased by or chasing my brothers, sisters, cats and dogs. I helped my dad grow vegetables and had a favourite pear tree that I would climb into whenever I felt sad. Oh, and sometimes I went to school.
There were always lots of books around the house and I read them all, even the ones that I was far too young to understand.
I loved to write as a child, but then I saw the late great Ken Campbell perform a one-man-show of 'A Canterbury Tales' and I was hooked on theatre.
So trained as a photojournalist!
Didn't like it at all. Loved the photography part, not so much the journalism.
I decided to go back to college.
After gaining a Drama and English Literature degree, I worked for many years as an actor/tutor/script writer and abandoned prose in favour of dialogue.
Then I moved to Suffolk where I live in a 17th-century oak-beamed cottage with my husband and a number of rescue/feral cats. The lovely countryside begged to be photographed and I lost the acting bug in favour of capturing the beauty of nature. Stories popped into my head, influenced by some of the images I took. I had to write them down, but I'd forgotten how to write prose!
So I went back to college.
After gaining a Creative Writing diploma I won The Suffolk Book League's Short Story Competition. It gave me the confidence to write more and try to create a novel. I continue to write and publish short stories and work on other writing projects.
As well as being an author, I am an editor, I teach photography and creative writing for both adults and young people, and I'm constantly exploring new ways to create photographic images and experiment with language.
I enjoy cooking and experimenting with ingredients, so long as they are fruit and vegetables and rice and grains. Yes! I am a vegetarian, but don't hold that against me.
Favourite authors include: Annie Proulx, Vladimir Nabokov, Flannery O'Connor, Ray Bradbury and Shakespeare.
My writing day begins about 3.00am when I wake up with a brilliant idea. My writing day ends about 3.02am when that idea vanishes with consciousness. But I do try to get in a couple of hours writing in the early afternoon before going to work.
Fear stalks Cityplace. They’re coming.
“If you like action, and science fiction then you’ll appreciate one of the first books EVER that gives you high powered adrenalin with chilling revelations of utter suspense!”
Starving renegades are gathering, ready to storm the last safe haven in NotSoGreatBritAlbion.
Whispers of evil omens gather force as strange activities beyond the perimeter fence increase.
Panic sweeps throughout the town when Agros send in troops to wreak havoc.
Only Adara, a rebellious girl with a unique power can save the terrified folk of Cityplace from the evil that threatens.
“Orva and the other S.A.N.T.S. came to a halt. “Move! Now!”
The Agros and Praisebees ran quicker than quick. Cityfolk backed away from the object that stuck out from the ground like a simple pole. I turned my head in the direction of where the Praisebees and Agro army had fled, but saw nowt.
The bomb exploded.
Bods flew into the air, landing hard on the ground. Dust swirled, smoke plumed, yells and screams near deafened me. Before Santy or I could do anything but cough, there came another great bang. The whole place seemed to shudder.
I lost my footing and Santy had to grab my arm to stop me from falling. Through the haze of chaos, I saw street lamps fall and folk stagger around all befuddled.
“Get cover! To the Auditorium. Quick!” Orva ran amongst the injured and confused, shouting instructions. The other S.A.N.T.S. did their best to steer folk up the steps. We emerged from our hiding place and went with fleet-foot to the same place.
Two fems, dressed in bedtime clothes pushed past us and ran shrieking for the steps as another great bang sent chunks of buildings crashing down around us.
Folk lay strewn around the square. Some were moaning, trying to stand, others lay motionless. I could not help but gulp when I saw a bub crawl from underneath a blood-soaked bod.”
The struggle to survive just got harder.
‘I loved the unique language, and both the style and the voice of the book reminded me of Patrick Ness' Walking Chaos Trilogy. I would definitely recommend it to people who enjoy his books! A brilliant and unique read for adults and young adults alike.’
After Agros abduct her brother and lay waste to her home, Adara embarks on a perilous quest through the hostile Wilderness to save Deogol from a sinister fate.
But her journey through the ravaged terrain of NotSoGreatBritAlbion is fraught with danger when her search is jeopardised by lustful Woodsmales, savage Wolfies, and corrupt monks in the Monastery in the Clouds.
It’s a good job I’m trained in S.A.N.T. ways, for I’ll need all my roughhouse skills to keep the Agro spies, Nearlys and Wolfies at bay until I find and bring home my bro and all the other missing Meeks.
I just wish I knew who or what is following my every move.
“The grumbling, rumbling noise grew louder and I smelled a pungent wetness waft across my face. The darkness seemed to thicken around us and I saw red dots appear here and there. They winked and burned and I knew they were the soulless eyes of the Cloniewolves that Eadgard had described. A dagger-like voice slashed into our ears.
“Heel! Heel, you rawbone jackals. Heel!”
A whip crack sound echoed round us and the burning flecks disappeared. I felt both Wirt’s and Eadgard’s hands relax in mine. A different smell spiralled up towards my nasal passages. A sweet and sickly aroma like something gone rotten.
“Strangers here, we tell. We leave all to mercy of houndlings, have ourselves goodly feed. Meat scarce to come by, we here not particular where it comes from. All better when fresh.”
“Quiet, Marcellus. Stand back, shine our light.”
“Do as we say. Or Vea will hear of this.”
The stinky pong diminished and I heard a sparkly crackle sound. Then a light as bright as two suns, or so it seemed in the blackness of our surrounding, splashed before our eyes. I held my hand across my face and blinked until my vision made sense of such illumination. I gave out a greatly gasp and let instinct propel me backwards at the sight that came into view.”
Trust no one - not even family.
‘Exciting, fun, unique, and creative. The author is truly a gifted writer to be able to whip up something like this. Easily a must-read for dystopian adventure lovers out there.’
As filthy battles ensue and loved ones perish, Adara must sing The Song of Forgetfulness one last time if she is to save not only the Meeks, but all the folk of NotSoGreatBritAlbion, from a life of slavery and despair. There’s just one problem – Deogol.
Adara and her friends infiltrate Agro headquarters ready to free the Meeks. But there is a traitor. Someone who is in league with the enemy. Someone close to home.
It’s a sickly wind that blows. Ash black and full of menace. Agros. Lots of them.
Feet pounding, shaking the earth, drawing closer.
An unseen enemy equipped with tech we know nowt about.
All I have is my voice and the power of friendship.
I must act now before the Agro menace snuffs us out for good.
“Marcellus pinned Alfred’s arms behind his back and he let out a yelp. Eadgard pulled the prostrate guard from the floor and pushed him towards Wirt, who pointed a gun at the Agro’s head. The puny male began to weep and Eadgard walked away, a look of loathing on his face. He stood by one of the cubicles, turned his head and looked into the window. His eyes narrowed and he peered closer. I thought him daft since all I could see was gloom.
“Hey! Hey! Over here. I think I see something,” he said and beckoned us to join him. Kendra and I sped to his side, whilst Wirt and Marcellus pushed and prodded the Agro males before them. Eadgard had his nose squished against the glass causing a mist to form from his heavy breathing. He wiped the moisture away and near stuck his eyeballs to the glass so intensely did he stare through it. We all except for Alfred, and the Agros, crept nearer and looked into the darkened room behind.
We all jumped back.
Out from the unlitness, a face appeared.
Then another, and another, and another.
As light filled the cubicles we saw more and more young ‘uns and bubs alike, staring back at us.
Their hands pressed upon the panes.
Their eyes wide, their mouths open.”