Lightbulb Moments

We're off  gallivanting again today. We're off to Barnard Castle, click one time haunt of Richard III, where dh and I will then split. I'm off to a Border Reivers Writers' Group lunch for a couple of hours, and dh will enjoy a stroll around the country town, the antique shops and a pub lunch. He may even go as far as Bowes Museum, but no doubt I'll be driving back home!

Barnard Castle is in the south of County Durham, and it's about as far south as our group extends. It's only fair that the member who lives there should have everyone come to her instead of it always being Sue who travels miles and miles to reach us, whether we're in the Tyne valley, Morpeth or as far north as Alnwick. Today we're supposed to be discussing sex/seduction scenes, taking examples of our own writing of said scenes for discussion. That'll be fun! Maybe there will be notes on it here on Monday. Maybe I'll report my funny little experience with the Amazon tags - which all reverted back to normal when I checked a couple of days later. I've even considered re-instating them! I could at least label Far After Gold as a steamy romance....

Last night I had a lightbulb moment. I've re-written a whole chapter of the first Matho story in the last few days, and I suddenly realised the chapter would read better from Meg's POV because she has more to lose and it will give the reader a chance to feel Meg's fear and observe Matho's anger at her betrayal. So when I get home this afternoon, that's what I'll be doing.

A talk, the torch and changes

Durham Cathedral

Had a great day with Jean Fullerton on Thursday and Friday. She came up from London to talk to our writers group, The Border Reivers and we all enjoyed a welcoming BBQ at the home of one of our members even though it was far to chilly to stand about outside. Only the actual barbie stood outside!
At one stage I thought the Olympic Torch going through Newcastle was going to jam up our arrangements for getting Jean back on time to the 4pm train to London, but all worked out well.

She spoke of cringing when she looked back at some of her early works (books that didn't get published) and I so sympathise with her, because I recently set out to get an old title ready to go up on Kindle and got quite a surprise as I started reading.

The storyline was fine, but there were signs of muddled motivation and a fair bit of repetition, not to mention some odd sentences here and there. As I read through I certainly cringed - and immediately started putting the thing right. Far After Gold has been truly re-edited over the last fortnight, ready for its second debut. I've almost re-written it!

The uploading process to Amazon had updates in April this year and the process certainly seem to work better for me than they did last time I tried it. I have a cover to sort, but in a few days, I'll chance uploading my story and see how it goes.

Catching Up!

This week has flown by and I missed both Wednesday and Friday posts. Several reasons - watching the tennis at Roland Garros, receiving my first cheques from Amazon for sales since my first self-published title in October 2011 and, of course, banking it!
Then the four day celebrations of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee - so much to watch on tv! At the beginning of the week we had the living room emptied while dh painted it, but we managed to finish it before having people in on Wednesday night after a lovely meal at Caffe Vivo on the Quayside in Newcastle.
Yesterday I put FAIR BORDER BRIDE up for free for a day on Amazon Kindle and almost 1200 people downloaded it - 1 in Spain, 2 in France, 24 in Germany and the rest split between the UK and the US, with the bullk in the US. One day I might reach Italy, too!
I have an equally busy week coming up. A walk with a friend either Tuesday or Wednesday, depending on whcih is the better day weather-wise, a hair appointment and the usual mundane grocery shopping. Thursday and Friday will be taken up with Border Reivers activities. Orion author Jean Fullerton is coming from the deep south (London!) to talk to us about various topics to do with writing, which promises to be entertaining as well as instructive. We're planning a BBQ on Thursday night to welcome her, and the meeting is on Friday.

Hot Trod, anyone?

A Hot trod is a lawful pursuit of reivers and maybe it’s time to talk about them since they figure in two of my books. Trods were peculiar to the borderlands between Scotland and England. The whole area, known as the Marches, was divided into administrative blocks, with three on each side of the border; an East, Middle and West March. Each March had a Warden, who maintained law and order within that area. The East Marches were the smallest of the six and glared at each other across the Tweed from Carham to Berwick. Pleasant farmed land, with the Tweed easily forded. Armies of both nations marched endlessly across the the Eastern Marches, looting as they went.

The Middle Marches fronted each other across the Cheviots, and the crime rate of the two regions was legend. The wide, desolate hills were criss-crossed by reivers’ trails and one of the Wardens declared it an “unchristened country.”

The West Marches contained the Debateable Land, disputed over by both nations, and pursued reivers disappeared into it whenever danger threatened to get too close.  The people of Carlisle lived within easy riding distance of the Liddesdale hordes, but seemed to suffer less than the English Middle March because it was well defended, with a string of castles and fortresses that included Naworth, mentioned on this blog a week or two back. Also the broad Eden, like the treacherous Solway tide, was a genuine barrier.

Once raided by reivers, a man could complain to the Warden and gain justice that way. He could wait and plan a retaliatory raid, which most did because they often got their goods back with interest. Or he could decide on a pursuit. This was strictly legal, even if the trail took them across the border. Scott named it “the fatal privilege” because it enshrined the right to recover one’s property (usually hoofed and alive) by force, and to deal (usually nastily) with the thieves themselves. It had to take place within six days of the raid. If followed immediately, it was a hot trod; if followed later, a cold trod.

Mark Knopfler and the Border Reivers

I've been listening to the sounds of Mark Knopfler and his new song The Border Reivers with some puzzlement. I'm a Knopfler fan, loved the music but could not make sense of the words. About seven hearings in, I mentioned this to my dh. He rolled over (we're still in bed at this point), listened and said "It's about Albion trucks called Border Reivers. Made in Glasgow. Nothing to do with your Border Reivers."

Aha. Various snatches of song became clear: "heading south from Glasgow...paperwork's all clear...my sleep times good...she's a navvy...in 1969..." Yes, it all fit.

"If you want to know more about Albion trucks," dh says chirpily, "I'll introduce you to Jim Wilkinson. He knows everything there is to know about the Border Reivers. He's got one in his garage."

Groan. My Border Reivers were some of the toughest desperadoes ever to live through history. Living both sides of the border between Scotland and England 1400-1700 they reived (stole) cattle, horses, wives, money from their own nation and from the residents of the opposing one without fear or quarter. They feature in my book TILL THE DAY GO DOWN, about to be published in November.

Halton church mouse

I love this place and not just because of the church mouse!

The walk on Wednesday paused here at Halton Church while we sat and enjoyed the view across the valley. Records say there was a church of some kind here in Roman times, and certainly the arch inside has a Roman feel to it. But I would say it is mostly medieval in style, and early medieval if I consider the battlements. A memory of the reiving days, perhaps, when not even a church was safe from the maruaders. The Moot Hall in Hexham is built in a similar style, and the Vicar's Pele Tower in Corbridge.

Halton Tower is a stone's throw away away to the west, and it is certainly noted as a fourteenth century tower built during the Border warfare. The house on the side is seventeenth century and there are said to be remnants of an older building to the north of the tower, but the house is in private hands so I can't go in and rummage around like I can at Aydon Castle, a mile and half to the south.

This is the area where I've chosen to set my Tudor romance TILL THE DAY GO DOWN, hopefully to be published sometimes this summer. The title comes from an old snatch of verse by Hobbie Noble, full of both threat and promise. I thought it gave the flavour of the men who lived then.

But will ye stay till the day go down

Until nght comes o'er the ground,

And I'll be a guide worth any twa

That may in Liddesdale be found.

Reading

The 3 books I ordered online last Sunday are here, so bravo The Book Depository. A period of study is in order now!

Enjoyed a girly lunch in Durham today and sneaked into the library on the way. - made myself 20 minutes late, but nothing lost as she was held up by an accident on the A1. We arrived at the meeting point within a minute of each other.

Left the library with a book on The Reivers by Andrew Moffat and copy of Soldier's Homecoming by Donna Alward. I read Donna's blog from time to time and since it is a 2008 M&B, I couldn't resist.

I adore libraries almost as much as I adore bookshops., and it is a rare day when I find nothing to interest me on library shelves. Read the second book of the Nora Roberts The Hollow trilogy in 2 days flat

but couldn't hack the biog of Jennie Churchill by Anne Sebba. Possibly my fault for not reading from beginning to end, but I found she uses pronouns far too much and I kept losing track of which "he" was under discussion. I thought it might be useful as background info for the 1893 rewrite I'm doing, but those years Jennie spent in Europe, so it wasn't much help. Nothing lost there. Except I must admit to being surprised to see that phaetons were still in use. Somehow I didn't expect that when Winston Churchill was one the subjects - after all, I remember Winston Churchill! So it follows it can't have been all that long ago...I know, I'm deluding myself.

The books are stacking up on me, and I can't decide which one to drop into first! Or should I be attending to work I should be doing for the critique group? Or, getting down to doing some writing of my own?

I find that I work hard on several chapters on one of my wips and then run out of steam, so I relax by turning to something else for a day or two. It only takes a small break. and then I feel the urge to go back It is one way of keeping all the plates spinning at the same time; seems to work for me.

King's hired thugs

A FASCINATING new book about the Border Reivers shatters the popular perception that the lawless families of the North were indigenous.
Julia Grint’s book Bastles explains: “During the 14th century, in an attempt to repopulate an area made a dangerous economic desert by Anglo-Scots warfare, Edward III encouraged what we would term ‘relocation’ to the Border region.”
“The people were chosen quite deliberately as being capable of brutish and violent behaviour; the settlers were brought in to form a protective ‘pale’ or bulwark and needed to be suitable for that purpose.”
In exchange for land and low rents, the King required military service on demand, and at first that worked well.

Taken together with a fascinating introduction that helps you step into the shoes of the Charltons, the Fenwicks, the Armstrongs, Royal machinations, the politics of the time and the geography that dictated the lifestyle, the book sets the scene.
The focus then narrows until it is on the holders of the names and graynes themselves – the bearers of the main surnames and subgroups formed by their descendents.
We learn about their activities, houses and even their clothes.
Bastles is published by Ergo Press, priced £7.99, and available from Cogito Books in Hexham, among other outlets.
See the full report at: helen.compson@hexham-courant.co.uk
Friday 11th July 2008

I can think of some local families who won't be too pleased at having their forebears labelled thugs.