Monday, 2 January 2012

The Good and The Bad

One Year On

This time last year I was mourning the death of my mother at the age of one hundred. Although the last years of her life were impaired by macular vision and hearing loss, she remained mentally alert. When asked how she was, Mum always replied she was amongst life’s lucky ones because she had a lovely flat in a retirement home, good health compared to many others and sufficient money as well as a loving family. ‘Some people of my age,’ she said, ‘have no one and others have families who scarcely keep in touch.’

Mum’s last birthday was on Boxing Day, 2012. She enjoyed her party and took pleasure in her card from the Queen. On the night of the 28th she left her body in her sleep.

I still miss her very much but am not selfish enough to wish she had lived on suffering from ill health.

My nine year old grandson write this moving tribute to her, which the teacher did not dare to read to the class for fear she would cry.

Death

Why do people have to die?
Why can’t they stay with us forever?

When Mum and Dad told me Great Grandma had died
It felt as though all the happiness had been sucked out of the world by a giant black hole.
My heart had completely deflated.
No one can describe death.

If me and my dad and all the people who came for my great grandma could build a ladder to get her down
We really truly would.
Nobody can describe death.

In the church at the funeral, sadness on everyone’s faces,
My heart was in my boots,
It was like despair had taken over.
It was like the world was black.
Tears filled my eyes as people said all the kind things my great grandma had done.
I fought hard to keep them back.
But hearing all the good things she had done my heart filled like a champion weight lifter pushing it up.
Nobody can describe death.

Death creates a big black hole in you but you can fill it up with happy memories of the person that died.
But still…Nobody can describe death.







When he read it to me over the phone, tears welled up in my eyes, but I restrained my grief, remembering a quotation from the translation of The Bhagavad-Gita As It Is by A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. “As the embodied soul continually passes, in this body, from boyhood to youth to old age, the soul similarly passes into another body at death.

This year I have achieved so much that my mother would have been pleased with. Three of my novels will be published in 2012. I have had two articles, first Baroness Orczy, and then The Scarlet Pimpernel, and a third, Samuel Pepys, will also be published in 2012 by Vintage Press.

I’m fortunate to be able to have children and grandchildren who I love dearly, to write historical fiction and articles and to garden organically. As Mum advised me, I’m counting my blessings.

My garden’s been very productive this year. From the time the rhubarb was ready to eat to now, when I have herbs and vegetables – Swiss chard, New Zealand Spinach, parsnips, turnips, red and green kale, brussel sprouts, – in the garden - carrots, marrows and pumpkins stored in the garden shed, and home grown veggies and fruit in the freezer, I have been at least 60% self-sufficient. The only disaster was the fate of 40 kilos of home grown potatoes stored in Hessian sacks in the garden shed which mice nibbled. They even nibbled the sacks!

Hopefully, 2012 will be happy for all of us, and I wish you all a healthy and prosperous New Year in which all your dreams come true.

Rosemary Morris
Historical Novelist

New releases from MuseItUp.
Tangled Love 27th January 2012.

Sunday’s Child June, 2012.
False Pretences, October 2012

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Saturday, 15 October 2011

Memories of Kenya and The Bolter by Frances Osborne

Memories of Kenya & The Bolter by Frances Osborne


I have mixed memories of my life in Kenya from 1961 to 1982. On the plus side are my happy recollections of the coast with its golden beaches, the grasslands teaming with wild animals, the lush green highlands. On the minus side I was always a stranger in a strange land. I missed my family and friends in England and in spite of a privileged lifestyle wanted to live in England. In fact, one of the happiest days of my life was when I returned to Europe for good.

Although Kenyan life was not one I embraced, I enjoy reading about the country. Karen Von Blixen’s Out of Africa and Elizabeth Huxley’s Flame Trees of Thika are two of my favourite books. I also found The Lunatic Express about the building of the railway interesting, and shuddered at the thought of the man eating lions the workers encountered in – if my memory is correct – Tsavo on the way from Mombasa to Nairobi.

I am now reading The Bolter the biography of Idina Sackville by Frances Osborne, about which Valerie Grove of the Times writes: ‘A corker of a subject, Idina’s behaviour…probably inspired The Bolter in Nancy Mitford’s The Pursuit of Love. Osborne’s richly wrought descriptions of glittering Paris nights and lush mountainous landscapes of Kenya’s Happy Valley are fabulous…A breakneck-paced, thoroughly diverting story.’

Apart from the account of Idina Sackville’s life are evocative descriptions of Kenya – the land, its people and settlers.

Idina and her second husband, Charles, won a 3,000 acre farm in a government lottery. When they reached their land: “…ahead of them the Aberdare Hills rolled dark green in the setting sun; from them fell ice-cold brooks, swollen by the recent rains. Below these their virgin farmland glowed with luminescent grassland and thick, red soil.”

Although the land had been developed by the time I lived in Kenya, there were many such views in the Highlands and always the rich red, fertile soil. When Idina settled there “Each bush throbbed with creatures large and small. Elephant, giraffe and antelope rustled through breaking out and swaying across open land. Leopard and monkey hung from trees reverberating with birdsong….at night when Idina and Charles sat outside they were surrounded by lookouts watching for wandering elephant, big cats or buffalo – its long, curved horns the most lethal of all.”

All this I can relate to but if I regret anything it is the golden Mombasa beaches on the undeveloped, idyllic south coast where we rented a house during our children’s school holidays. We played in the surf, swam in the warm sea and searched for shells at peace with the world.

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
http://rosemarymorris.blogspot.com

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Saturday, 10 September 2011

From Highgate Hill to Kindle

From Highgate Hill to Kindle
When my mother was a small girl, my grandfather, Charles, stood holding her hand on Highgate Hill. Together they watched one of the first aeroplanes fly overhead. He looked down at Mother and said: ‘Nothing will come of those flying machines.”
Born within the sound of Bow Bells, the eldest of eight children, Charles was a scholarship boy at Westminster Boys School and sang in the choir at Westminster Abbey. Unfortunately, due to his father’s death, Charles had to leave school at the age of fourteen and find a job so that he could help my great-grandmother financially. Nevertheless, he acquired a lifelong love of reading, and I believe he would have been very enthusiastic about Kindle and other such devices.
Grandfather was fortunate to be born in time to benefit from the liberalism of the Prime Minister, Gladstone. Many people were opposed to mass education because they feared it would teach the workers to think for themselves, decide their lives were unsatisfactory and revolt. (The upper classes were always frightened of revolution.) However, the Education Act Reform Bill allowed schools to be set up by the Education Department in any district where provision was either inefficient or suitable; and from 1880 onwards it was compulsory for children to attend school until they were twelve years old.
When there were insufficient schools for the number of children a School Board was created and required to provide elementary education for children from the age of five to twelve.
Although parents had to pay school fees in the Board paid poor children’s fees.
By 1873 40% of the population lived in areas where education was compulsory. Fortunately for my grandparents they both lived in such an area, Charles receiving an excellent education and Annie’s a good one.
Annie’s father had been a rich man but he ‘took to the bottle’ and brought his wife and thirteen children to the ‘breadline.’ My great-grandmother earned a living as a midwife and Annie, her eldest daughter, was expected too help. However, my great-grandmother always found the pennies for her children to go to school but, (almost unbelievable to modern ears) one of Annie’s teacher’s said: ‘Oh, Annie, if you always come to school with a baby strapped to your back, your back will become crooked. Can you imagine what would happen today if a primary school child arrived in her classroom with a baby on her back? Leave aside IT studies, the world of e-books and print on demand, it is obvious there is an enormous gulf between schools for poor children in those days and modern day schools.
Annie valued her rudimentary education, and she always enjoyed reading, as she put it, ‘a good novel’, the more she cried over the sad or heart-touching parts the more she enjoyed it. She wept bucket loads over Little Nell in Dickens Old Curiosity Shop and admired Sir Walter Scot’s hero, Ivanhoe and wept over Rebecca’s unrequited love. Not bad for a child who carried a baby brother or sister on her back to school.
Had Annie been born earlier she might not have attended school until she was twelve years old. I think she would have learned the three r’s at school, but once she mastered the basics great-grandmother would have kept her at home to help. Fortunately, Annie mastered reading, writing and arithmetic, was taught domestic science and enjoyed gymnastics and art and crafts.
Annie could not have imagined future advances in education but I wonder if she valued her schooldays far more than many children do today. In England the powers of schools to expel unruly students have been eroded. Teachers’ means to discipline children have been reduced to the point at which disruptive children regularly prevent the rest of the class from learning. (I am not the only one who thinks that the abolishment of corporal punishment is praiseworthy, but in the United Kingdom teachers should be allowed to restrain violent pupils.
Most of today’s children enjoy far more material benefits than Charles and Annie could have ever hoped to enjoy, but this does not automatically mean their lives are either happier or more enriched. Certainly, good conduct as well as the attainment of academic standards was stressed and valued when Charles and Annie were at school. It was taken for granted that all children – unless they had a learning disability - would be able to read when they left school. I do not have statistics to prove it but believe those children who completed their elementary education unable to read were a tiny minority. Sadly, this is not true today. There are frequent articles in the newspapers and mention on television news broadcasts about children who leave secondary school unable to read at the age of sixteen.
The following gives me an idea as to the basic education Annie received.

The following are the six Standards of Education contained in the Revised code of Regulations, 1872
STANDARD I
Reading One of the narratives next in order after monosyllables in an elementary reading book used in the school.
Writing Copy in manuscript character a line of print, and write from dictation a few common words.
Arithmetic Simple addition and subtraction of numbers of not more than four figures, and the multiplication table to multiplication by six.
STANDARD II
Reading A short paragraph from an elementary reading book.
Writing A sentence from the same book, slowly read once, and then dictated in single words.
Arithmetic The multiplication table, and any simple rule as far as short division (inclusive).
STANDARD III
Reading A short paragraph from a more advanced reading book.
Writing A sentence slowly dictated once by a few words at a time, from the same book.
Arithmetic Long division and compound rules (money).
STANDARD IV
Reading A few lines of poetry or prose, at the choice of the inspector.
Writing A sentence slowly dictated once, by a few words at a time, from a reading book, such as is used in the first class of the school.
Arithmetic Compound rules (common weights and measures).
STANDARD V
Reading A short ordinary paragraph in a newspaper, or other modern narrative.
Writing Another short ordinary paragraph in a newspaper, or other modern narrative, slowly dictated once by a few words at a time.
Arithmetic Practice and bills of parcels.
STANDARD VI
Reading To read with fluency and expression.
Writing A short theme or letter, or an easy paraphrase.
Arithmetic Proportion and fractions (vulgar and decimal).
I assume that my paternal grandparents, George and Florence, were expected to achieve the goals set out above. However, George was a younger member of an old established West Country family of landowners. He received a superior education, enjoyed reading the Bible and studying politics newspapers, magazines and journals. He pasted cuttings about topics of national importance and the First and Second World wars in large leather bound scrapbooks. Yet his country roots always remained with him. By the time he married, he had moved to Kent and owned no more than a large back garden where he enjoyed keeping chickens and grew fruit and vegetables. Possibly, he would not have been deeply interested in computer technology. On the other hand, he might have enjoyed downloading articles, printing them and sticking them into his scrapbooks.
Florence, daughter of an architect, received a reasonable academic education at school, and, at home, a thorough education in deportment, social airs and graces and all matters domestic including sewing. Florence’s skill with the needle was much appreciated; she sewed for herself, her family and for church bazaars. One of my happiest memories is sitting on a stool at her feet stitching bugle beads onto chiffon. ‘Fairy stitches, tiny fairy stitches,’ she used to say to me. Thanks to her, I have always enjoyed sewing and knitting.
Today, ‘liberated’ women have a multitude of modern conveniences, career opportunities, access to television, computers, the world wide web, e-mails, Amazon, kindle etc., but, by and large, are they as contented as my grandmothers, who had the love of good men and took pride in their domestic skills? What, I ask myself, would they have made of modern technology?
In 1902, seven years before my father was born and eight years before my mother was born, the School Boards were abolished and Local Education Authorities replaced them. For the first time, secondary school education to the age of fourteen became compulsory. Would my grandparents have enjoyed further education? Regardless to the answer, I know Charles would have been as amazed by online publishing as he would have been by modern aircraft, although he stood on Highgate Hill with his small daughter’s hand in his and told her: ‘Nothing will come of those flying machines.”

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Sunday, 10 July 2011

Online Writers Critique Groups

Online Writers’ Critique Groups

Last week I wrote about Writers Circles. This week I’m writing about my experience of the three online writers’ critique groups which I belong to.

My experience of these groups for historical novelists has been positive. However, via the proverbial grape vine I’ve heard that some authors’ experiences have been unproductive. My advice would be to search for a suitable group.

Members of the groups I belong to are not allowed ‘to flame’. They are expected to be polite and offer constructive critiques.

Each group is for writers who are conversant with the unwritten rules of writing and are seeking publication.

In return for receiving critiques, members are expected to reciprocate.

Over the years, I have made new friends who trust my comments on their novels. A few of us met in person. One charming lady and I meet from time to time, visit places of historical interest and, over lunch, discuss ‘writerly’ matters.

There are always some fellow writers on the groups with whom I am on ‘the same wavelength.’ Through them I’ve been introduced to eras I know little about and they have been introduced to the Stuart Queen Anne’s era – 1702-1714.

When I receive a critique I always remind myself that the comments in it only reflect one person’s opinion and it is up to me to accept or reject them. Sometimes I have enjoyed writing a flowery passage which a critiquer rightly suggests toning down. On other occasions flaws and inconsistencies in the plot are pointed out.

It is also useful to receive comments on unconsciously telling the reader about an incident instead of revealing it through the character, on head hopping when I change from one character’s viewpoint to another’s, too much emotion or a lack of emotion at crucial points. All this is free for the taking and helps me to improve my novels.

Achieving publication has never been easy. There are more examples of writers whose work was rejected time and time again before they became either classical authors or modern best sellers than I have space to mention. I am sure you can think of some, including J. K. Rowlings who wrote the Harry Potter series. In order to be published writers need to do everything they can to help themselves. I belong to a writers circle and to critique groups in order to scrub, dust and polish every sentence in my work.

Forthcoming release. Tangled Love (previously published as Tangled Hearts) 27.01.2012

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

http://rosemarymorris.blogspot.com

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Sunday, 3 July 2011

Writers Groups

Writers Groups

I spend eight hours or more writing and dealing with matters related to writing.

While writing there is no one to metaphorically hold my hand, encourage me and help me to improve my work in progress.

From my first draft of a novel or article I try to write to the best of my ability and avoid the many pitfalls which plague authors. By the time I have written several drafts, revised and edited my work I know it inside out, upside down and back to front, and that is the problem. I reach the stage when I no longer see typing errors and other mistakes because I am so familiar with my typescript – faulty punctuation, writing from the author’s point of view instead of the character’s and telling the character’s story instead of showing the character’s actions. No matter how interesting my novel or article is these unprofessional mistakes might result in an agent or publisher rejecting my submission.

Fortunately, there is help available. I belong to Watford Writers, which meets every Monday evening with the exception of Bank Holidays.

On manuscript evenings I read approximately 2,000 words from my work in progress and receive helpful comments. Someone might point out a weak spot in the plot, an awkward phrase or something unnecessary for which I am very grateful. After all, to achieve my goal of having more work published I need to constantly improve my craft.

Apart from manuscript evenings Watford Writers invites guest speakers or guests who conduct workshops. Last year I handed in my non-fiction article titled Baroness Orczy and Her Muse at a workshop. The feedback was invaluable. The article needed to be divided into two. I accepted the advice and used the material to write two articles, the first titled Baroness Orczy and the second titled The Scarlet Pimpernel.

At Watford Writers I heard about Vintage Script, a small press magazine devoted to past times. I submitted Baroness Orczy and the article has been published in the magazine’s first edition.

I’m so busy researching my novels and articles that I rarely venture into other fields. However, Watford Writers holds flash fiction competitions in which I have recently participated. So far, I haven’t won anything but writing something very different to my chosen field challenges me to ‘think outside my box’.

Recently, Watford Writers invited its members to submit a 500 word competition story. The theme is The Blue Door. To enter it I had to dig deep into my imagination to find what I hope is an original plot. My entry is called Paradise Lost and even if it is not placed I will still be pleased to have taken part.

Last week was one of the four social evenings held every year. A member organised a quiz – which dismayed me because I know so little about some subjects – for example sport and pop music.

Somewhat nervous I arrived at Café Cha Cha in Cassiobury Park on the quiz evening. It was a hot with a hint of thunder so we sat outside the café looking out over the beautiful park with drinks and plates of food from the buffet to which we all contributed.

I was pleased when I knew the answers to questions relating to gardening and literature but dismayed by the 25 questions about pop music.

Our group lagged behind but we had a stroke of luck. The organiser did not know that one of the ladies in our group had been a disc jockey in South Africa. We scored 50 out of 50 on that final round and won prizes. Mine was a writing magazine and a very useful computer dictionary.

So, if you can find a constructive writers circle that will welcome you, I suggest you visit it and amongst other things make new friends. If you live in or near Watford, Hertfordshire, do drop in at one of out meetings at 7.30. p.m. on Monday evenings. You will be very welcome,

All the best,

Rosemary

Tangled Love set in Queen Anne’s reign 1702-1714 to be published by Muse It Up on the 27.01.2012 (Previously published as Tangled Hearts.)

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
http://rosemarymorris.blogspot.com

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Sunday, 12 June 2011

Recommended Reads

Trencarrow Secret by Anita Davison

For readers who like a twist in the tale which takes them by surprise, I recommend Trencarrow Secret by Anita Davison.

I had the privilege of reading this novel by an accomplished author prior to publication and thoroughly enjoyed it

You can find out more about Anita and her novels at Anita’s beautifully designed blog:http://thedisorganisedauthor.blogspot.com

Isabel Hart is afraid of two things, the maze at Trencarrow where she got lost as a young child, and the lake where her brother David saved her from drowning in a boating accident.

With her twenty-first birthday and the announcement of her engagement imminent, Isabel decides it is time for her to face her demons and ventures into the maze. There she sees something which will alter her perceptions of herself and her family forever.

Isabel’s widowed aunt joins the house party, where her cousin confides she is in love with an enigmatic young man who surely cannot be what he pretends, for he is too dashing for homely Laura.

When Henry, Viscount Strachan and his mother arrive, ostensibly to use her ball as an arena for finding a wife, Isabel is determined not to like him.

As more secrets are revealed, Isabel begins to doubt she has chosen the right man, although her future fiancé has more vested in this marriage than Isabel realizes and has no intention of letting her go easily.

Will Isabel be able to put her preconceptions of marriage behind her and take charge of her own life, or is she destined to be controlled by others forever?

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