Authors Electric

Ann Davison arriving in New York Our holiday in America began in New York. I knew that the place I most wanted to see was the Hudson River. I’d read and re-read the last chapters of My Ship is So Small, Ann Davison’s funny and moving account of her arrival in Felicity Ann and the end of their record-setting voyage together. Desperate to find somewhere, anywhere, to tie up for the night, Ann accepts a tow from a fisherman, runs aground on a sunken barge and spends the night in a mysterious boat cemetery.  The following morning she sets out to sail the last few miles to 79th Street yacht basin. But it’s closed. Everyone tells her this is the only place for yachts. Where else can she go? Darkness is falling once again when a crew of Engineers take pity on her. ‘Why don’t you tie up with us at our place?’ ‘Why don’t I indeed, where are you?’ ‘Pier 75, the fireboat pier.’     So away they go together, moor for the night and settle down to some serious celebrating. T...

2011 version I first wrote Edge of Dreams way, way back. It was probably my third completed novel and the first that was realistically worth carrying on with! I think I posted a couple of months ago about my first novel I hand-wrote as a teenager? After that I wrote an otherworld fantasy that was also pretty dire (but again, I got to the end) and I can’t even find the dot-matrix print out or the old computer files, which were pre-Word and would probably be unreadable anyway.  So Edge wasn’t too bad. And I know I posted about the motivational aspect of this book a couple of months ago too, but stick with me - this isn't a complete regurgitation. I sat on it for a long time while life happened, then dusted it off and rewrote it a few times. This was the first novel I submitted to traditional publishers (indie publishing wasn’t a thing back then), and it did almost get picked up by Chicken House, failing at the last hurdle of the Acquisitions meeting. Still, it gave me a little confi...

 We've just had the de-clutterers round again, and I think they've at last finished with the front room. After a couple of sessions earlier in the year they had got rid of most of the complete rubbish, so this time they reached the far corners of the room and retrieved some treasures, relatively speaking. Old photographs and holiday souvenirs, a bit of family jewellery, more sheet music, and what seemed like thousands of letters from my mother. To put this in some sort of context, the front room had started out as quite an organised sitting-room, had morphed into my bedroom for a while and then into a store-room which as well as our own family clutter had accommodated whatever was left over when we cleared out first my mother's house and then my brother's some years ago. While I was in hospital having my hip replaced, family members had pushed things into the corners to make sure I had enough space to walk about in safely, and then the next time I was in hospital, havin...

A Misalignment of the Stars   Recently I suffered a painful bout of sciatica, something which I have experienced before but never with this level of intensity. I was becalmed for a few weeks, being unable to walk more than a few paces. Stairs were almost impossible to climb. Co-incidentally, however, the author Lissa Evans* with whom I have an online acquaintance, posted a compelling recommendation on social media of a book entitled  To Exist As I Am  by Grace Spence Green. It was subtitled  A Doctor’s Notes on Recovery and Radical Acceptance . Trusting in Lissa’s judgement of the book, I ordered a copy using my local library’s reservation service. It arrived within three days, and I began reading it.    The book is the extraordinary story of Grace Spence Green’s journey, after suffering a spinal cord injury which paralysed her from the waist down, which gave a completely new cast to a life that was up to that point her training as a fourth-year medical stu...