Authors Electric

I feel at present a bit like a locked-up princess in a castle , because the pavement in my street has been dug up in order to lay cables. The result is that for two days I've had a very small opening through which to exit, and heaven help me if I'd suddenly put on weight. As for a shopping trolley, forget it. T here also does seem to be a serious shortage of local princes on white horses ... My film project has gone quiet at present, partly because I unexpectedly had to undergo surgery due to a medical error. Because of a totally benign mark which might, or might not have been (it wasn't), I was scheduled for a 'needle' biopsy - a very minor procedure, except that in my case I was given, in error, a 'core' biopsy under a local anaesthetic which damaged an existing breast implant, so fairly swift surgery, due to possible infection, was vital , and my implant, which had been in place for almost seventeen years, had to be re moved, to be replaced in a...

It's lovely when you receive a letter from someone who's enjoyed your book. But a little more unusual when you get a letter from the characters themselves! The other day I was curious when the postman delivered a brown padded envelope, and even more curious to find a hand written letter on a kind of scroll, and something wrapped in a piece of black material and tied with a black ribbon. A cursory glance at the letter had me noticing the words Cross of Aes Dana – which, if you've read my YA time slip book, Celeste you'll know is a magical pendant that my character Megan (alias Celeste) has to guard with her life, as it possesses the power of eternal life. I instantly thought it was from one of the teenagers I'd spoken to at their school recently – until I saw the letter was signed by Megan, Freya and Jamie.  That trio of names rang a bell – my characters in the book! They explained that they'd retrieved the Cross of Aes...

          Twenty years ago, I wrote my first picture book text, Tattybogle . It was published in 1995 and is still providing me with opportunities such as school visits, and a modest amount of income.           When Andersen let it go out of print, I bought a print run from them because I needed to keep the supply of books going. It is basically a simple story of a happy scarecrow, but it has elements of the seasons and the cycle of birth, death and - rebirth? I've been challenged about this by a vicar and it is or was on the RI curriculum in some schools to form the basis of a discussion about the differences between reincarnation and resurrection.           I've also been asked for a copy by a mother preparing her children for the death of a cousin, and it is used in hospices for children and adults.Who'd have thought? Well, I would, for one,...

It’s a funny thing, releasing a novel. You think you’ve made everything up, then someone informs you that it’s not as fictional as you’d hoped. And moreover, you got it wrong. Th e other day I had an email to say that the fusty village where I’d set the action in My Me mories of a Future Life was not spelled Vellonoweth but Vellanoweth. ‘No it’s not,’ I replied, thinking my correspondent had a cheek. ‘I made it up.’ ‘It’s near Penzance,’ he said. Oh dear. It was. I honestly had no idea the place existed. My Vellonoweth, with an o, was inspired by a stand-out surname I spotted in a magazine. It embodied everything I needed for my setting - a fusty, sleepy hell full of dreary people. If I used a real town I couldn’t take it to the stifling depths I needed. But it turns out there is a real Vellanoweth. So I may have some apologisi ng to do. Here it is. 1 I’m sorry I gave you a terrible amateur dramatics society, which was performing a musical they’d written themselves abo...

  Ghost Song by Susan Price               As Ambrosi trod over the bridge [to the Ghost World ], its note changed, rising and falling. He could feel its rising curve beneath his feet, and, at the height of the arch, he saw the shape of a great and beautiful tree, winter-bare of leaves. It rose out of the empty dark with the pale, pale sheen of steel by moonlight, faintly outlined against the blackness and the stars. The stars shone through its branches, like brilliant, unseasonable fruit. He stood still, and the changing, thrumming note of the bridge steadied, but other sounds, distant and eerie, crept to his ears. The stars, every one of the thousands of stars, as it spun in darkness, spun its own crystalline, icy, piercing note that mingled with the thrumming of the bridge, and wove and interwove with the note of every other star. Cold, thrilling, calling harmony: poignant discord: the music of the spheres. ...

Hello! This is my first post here on Kindle Authors UK, so I thought I’d tell you a few things about myself. I on ce volunteered for an experiment in ESP. I sat in a room and was told to close my eyes and think of nothing while someone in another room beamed thoughts at me. A researcher put wires on my head to record my brain patterns and see if any communication was taking place between us. To help me zone out he put a swirly mandala on the wall and played me white noise through headphones (thank you, SantaRosa OldSkool for the one below). Honestly, I tried to think of nothing but it was just like an episode of The Avengers . Brainwashing, EEGs, far eastern symbols; and all in a leafy suburb of London. With some difficulty, I locked in on the husky hiss in my headphones. After a while I began to he ar voices. Inside my head. Very faint, but definitely people talking. Eureka, was this ESP? I heard the crackly whisper of a jingle, and then … was that Bon Jovi’s...