Nearly there...

I am currently designing and finalising the non-fiction book! Here is a sneak preview...

Hoping to publish by 14th November, 2017 - no pressure!

Typing away I go...

I am currently copying a diary written by Harriet Beanland (1865 - 1922), over 100 years ago. Found by my parents - it's lucky to have survived! It is fascinating, but time-consuming.

Here is an excerpt! I love her description & the fact we get to meet a character her mother talks about in her letters.

She looks so stern in this photo for someone with such amazing descriptions!

I am hoping to put all these original letters in a book for publication once I am done! Might be a while...

Vanessa :)

I forget what month in 1875 our cousin Fred Saword arrived from London, but Mother one day told us that a cousin was coming to see us soon. We were greatly excited. We knew we had an Uncle Charles, Aunt Emma and lots of cousins in London, and we had two photos on the sitting room mantel piece showing a thin gentleman with whiskers, and a thin child with long thin legs on his knee; and the other showing a stout lady holding a baby on her lap; these we knew were Uncle Charles and Aunt Emma.

I pictured cousin Fred as a tall, rosy-cheeked boy and was greatly disappointed to find when he arrived that he was dark & pale and very little bigger than myself!

I remember we were called into the shop very early one morning (or else very late one night) for the door was closed and there was Mother welcoming our cousin, a pale solemn looking boy with a scotch cap, and black suit. It seemed so odd to hear him address Mother as “Aunt”. We shyly shook hands with him, he did not kiss us (as I thought he would) but was very quiet & civil, though his big dark eyes stared at us with some curiousity.

I unfortunately do not remember much about his stay with us except that he was a great tease & plagued us most of the time, though he was very quiet & civil to Mother and Uncle Emmett.

The person he most enjoyed teasing however was poor Mrs McKendry! They were hostile to each other from the first, and his pranks used to drive her to frenzy! Many were the complaints Mother had to listen to from one & all!

I forget whether he went to school, but I think he used to help in the shop. He used to chase Bessie Robinson and me if he saw us while on an errand. Once he chased us all over the castle ramps. If he happened to catch us, he pulled our hair unmercifully, tossed our hats into the road, and made himself agreeable in many other ways.

I don’t think anyone was sorry when he left, but in justice to the lad I think he was lonely and home-sick, he had no companion of his own age to associate with & no doubt hated the shop and mean dark little house we lived in, and at the same time was too young to appreciate the beauty and romantic history and associations of Gibraltar.

One night I was wakened out of sleep by Fred rushing in the say “Goodbye”, he was going back to England. I heard Mother (who was with him) say, “Don’t waken the other children,” as he scampered through the room gathering up his belongings. As he was going down-stairs I heard him exclaim, “Aunt! I haven’t got my nightshirt!” and rush upstairs again. Mother called out, “Make haste Fred, the cab is at the door!” He rummaged about the bedroom, grumbling loudly, and at last called out, “I’m coming!” I fell asleep & in the morning we were told that Fred had gone, he had gone on board the mail the night before. I don’t think we shed any tears!

Exciting Times!

I have finished the first book in this collection! Woo hoo! (The first book covers the period of 1841-1866, mainly focused on London & Jamaica).

After sharing it with a friend from school (thank you, Emma) and my editor, Adam, it is clear I have some work to do, but overall they both loved it.

Emma read it in a day, and Adam wrote this...

"First of all – congratulations! This cannot have been at all easy to write – not only the research on your family history, but also all the other general historical points that you have included. The novel therefore works in at least three dimensions – a ‘true story’ of family history, a slice of history about Jamaica the US and UK, and finally a gripping love story.

Because of all these different aspects I found the novel highly interesting and readable, and I do think it’s a step up from your previous fictional pieces (hope you don’t mind me saying). I would definitely encourage you to explore publishing options as I think this will be an interesting read for a wide audience."

Obviously, I am over the moon and am working hard to finish the next book. But, realistically it might take a while.

I now have to look into getting an agent - am I brave enough?

I have been given letter written by Emma, and diaries from her son, Charles (my great grandfather). The process of transferring the text to computer is long and disheartening. I'll get there!

It is amazing how well written the diaries are... they were definitely educated! It ha made me rethink Emma's past a bit. She was one smart lady!

Her son, Charles, was an incredible man - I really hope to be able to tell his story one day too!

These sketches are in his diary... I always thought I got my artistic side from my mother - perhaps, I am wrong!

I just wrote some extracts from Harriett's diary (Bolton & Emma's first daughter), which made me chuckle. I'm glad they had trouble controlling children back then too!

"That same Sunday evening Mother took us to Church, not the King’s Chapel, but a strange church we had never gone to before. It was a large square building with a huge gallery on each side. There was a black pulpit very high up and a smaller one or reading desk underneath. The minister read the big Bible at the reading desk and prayed with his hands lifted up, and went up into the big round pulpit to preach. He wore a black gown, not a white surplice such as Mr Magee had. There were no stained windows as in King’s Chapel and no organ. The people sat down to sing and stood up when the Minister prayed. The singing was slow and spiritless I thought without any organ to accompany it.

John and I thought it was very funny and giggled most of the time. We sat in one of the side aisles under a gallery. On the front of the gallery opposite was a large clock. It ticked very loudly when the Minister was praying or preaching. The pew we were in was a very long one with no cushions. There were not many people in church. Artie stood up on the seat and stared at the people behind us. 

Mother pulled his frock and made him sit down. Ems went to sleep on her lap. Baby was at home in bed. John & I whispered and bittered so much that Mother looked quite annoyed, at last she signed to John to come & sit the other side of her. Then I tickled Artie and made him squeal out, s mother sternly whispered to me to go & sit at the end of the pew by myself! Even there I contrived to catch John’s eye & we would both splutter with suppressed laughter. Poor Mother! She must have been quite ashamed of our bad behaviour! I took a dislike to the ugly church and its old minister and hoped we should never go there anymore!

After the service the Minister came up to Mother and shook hands. He looked at us & I thought that Mother was apologising for our bad conduct in church.

When we came out she told me very sternly that she wouldn’t tolerate such misconduct in Church in the future and if I couldn’t make up my mind to behave better I should be locked up in the coal cup-board instead of going to church!"

A stern, but fair, mother I think. I definitely think this will help me picture Emma for the second book!

Enjoy & apologies for not sharing more!

All the best,
Vanessa