Writing – Page 2 – I Walk Alone

Research rabbit hole – crime and punishment Southampton 1926

Research is key when writing believable historic fiction. Like most authors, I do the majority before I write a single word. Much of it involves working out the plot, and getting the setting and details right. With Land Fit For Heroes, much of the research revolved around the General Strike, Southampton Docks, and Melbourne Street. Crime and punishment was a theme running through this story, and finding out what happened to Southampton’s law breakers when they got caught led me down an interesting research rabbit hole and changed the direction of the plot completely.

Sneak preview – Seventh Daughter

My third historic novel is coming out soon. It’s another story set in Southampton, this time in Northam Street. In the summer of 1931, helping a neighbour unleashes a chain of events that threatens to tear the close-knit but impoverished Northam Street community apart. Daisy is convinced death is coming for someone. Will it be Jacob’s wife, Annie, or the women who have spirited her away — Nancy, the prostitute, Mabel, the handywoman or Daisy herself? Albie believes Jacob’s war wounds are behind his strange behaviour. The neighbours think he’s dangerous. If Albie can’t persuade them that Jacob poses no threat, somebody will get badly hurt. Sam’s unrequited love for Nancy is the least of his problems. He thinks he has escaped his troubled past until someone starts attacking women down by the docks. Then fingers point at him. ~ Read on for a sneak peek at chapter one . . .

Bluebells, witches and a family grave

The Common looked glorious as we walked towards the last parkrun of April. Everything was fresh, green and bursting with life. The air was crisp and rich with the smell of spring, freshly cut grass and damp earth. It was one of those mornings that make you glad to be alive. Of course, my main aim for the morning was visiting the dead, like I do most Saturday mornings. I was especially interested in the bluebells I’d heard were bursting out everywhere in the Old Cemetery.

Twenty-two, seventy-six and a ninety-nine

We Brits are famous for talking about the weather. It’s true, we do. There’s a good reason for this obsession. Although our little island rarely experiences the extreme weather other places have to contend with, ours is far from consistent. There are no guaranteed warm, dry summers, winter doesn’t necessarily mean snow, rain is always around the corner and it’s quite normal to get all four seasons in one day. When extremes do happen, we’re really not geared up for it. Our houses don’t have air conditioning and there are no snow ploughs or chains for car tyres. The last week has been a tad on the warm side. In fact, the Met Office recorded a record UK temperature of 40.3°C on 19 July. The media gleefully catastrophised. There were headlines like ‘How the heatwave broke Britain,’ and ‘Gates of Hell are opening.’ If it hadn’t been so warm, the men with sandwich boards would surely have been walking up and down, proclaiming that the end of the word was nigh. When people began saying it was far worse than the famous summer of 1976, eye-rolling in our house reached danger levels.

Procrastination

One thing all the writers I know have in common is an innate ability to procrastinate, particularly when they’re supposed to be writing. Perhaps it has something to do with having an overactive imagination, or maybe it’s because writing is much harder than people think. Then again, it could all be part of the process. By letting our minds wander or flit from one inconsequential thing to another, we may allow the ideas to come to us. Whatever it is, I know I do it a lot. Today, I thought I’d share a few of the odd things that lead me away from my keyboard.

Who was Tommy Lewis?

Seventh Daughter, the third book in my historic fiction series, is currently being prepared for publication and should be available shortly. The story is set in the summer of 1931 when helping a neighbour unleashes a chain of events that threatens to tear the close-knit but impoverished Northam Street community apart. A few of the characters will be familiar to anyone who has read Plagued and Land Fit For Heroes. One new character is mentioned several times, although he doesn’t make an appearance. Most residents of Southampton will recognise his name, Thomas Lewis, but how many know his story? I think it is about time I got round to telling it.

Stepping back in time ~ 1926

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This may be true, but when it comes to writing historic fiction, a picture can conjure a thousand words, at least for me. My stories might be inspired by family and odd things I’ve read here and there. The details might be sharpened by research using resources like JSTOR, old newspapers, Radio times archives, old OS maps, archived weather reports and local history pages on Facebook. The old photographs and postcards give me a feel for the era I’m writing about, though. They capture the essence of the time and place like words never can.

Percy and the Royal South Hants

On 11 January, I stood on the corner of Lyon Street and Onslow Road in the fog and thought about the best route home. The quickest way was to walk to the end of the road and turn left onto Derby Road and then right onto Mount Pleasant. I was so close to the Royal South Hants Hospital, though, it seemed silly not to see it while I was there. After all, it had played a pivotal role in Land Fit For Heroes, and I could almost imagine Percy running along the road in the dark. Of course, the hospital he would have seen no longer exists — at least, most of it doesn’t.

Misty St Denys morning

A cold, damp blanket of fog hung over Southampton on 11 January. As I crossed Cobden Bridge, I heard the haunting sound of distant fog horns and watched a lone gull circling. It felt as if he and I were alone on the river. Of course, we were far from alone, but walking in the fog imparts a feeling of splendid isolation. The water hanging in the air muffles the hum of traffic, and fellow travellers appear, like spectres out of the gloom, then disappear again as soon as they’ve passed. I’d planned to walk along the river, but the lack of visibility made me change my mind. Instead, I thought I might check out a few locations from my work in progress. St Denys was a key feature, so I walked across the bridge.

Mount Pleasant

The next stop on my 11 April walk was Mount Pleasant, the area tucked away between Bevois Valley and Northam. It’s so tiny, more or less just one road and an industrial estate, that the name doesn’t even appear on the map. Nice as it sounds, the name Mount Pleasant usually has ironic origins and Mount Pleasant in Southampton is no exception. At risk of offending the locals, it is about as far as it’s possible to get from a mount — being at sea level right on the edge of the River Itchen — and it isn’t exactly pleasant either. In fact it’s right on the edge of Southampton’s most notorious red light district. Having said that, the little terraced houses are lovely and the area has a very interesting history. This was what I’d come to explore.

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