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Who Remembers the Forgotten Pilots?

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Photo of Joan Hughes by a Stirling Bomber she piloted in WW2

I’m really looking forward to you meeting Odette and Beryl when Virgin Flight is released into the world on 1st December. It’s available to pre-order now on mybook.to/VirginFlight.  It was such a joy to write and I was reluctant to let the characters go.  In fact, I still miss them.

The early reviews coming through are phenomenal, and I’m delighted that readers are enjoying their story as much as I enjoyed living it and retelling it.  For those of you who don’t read historical fiction, maybe you can think of the book as a slow burn romance with adventures in aeroplanes set a number of years ago :0)?

History gives us an insight into the past, shows lessons we may learn and gives us context for current events.  It doesn’t have to be depressing either. I’m fascinated by the WW2 period, not because of the war, but because women were finally given opportunities that wouldn’t otherwise have been available to them. And they rose to the challenge.

We also need stories about people overcoming adversity and thriving despite that. The themes of love and loss are universal and endure throughout time. So yes, Virgin Flight is about women who fly during WW2, delivering the planes needed by the RAF. An Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA) Pilot could be flying a damaged bomber one flight and a pristine Spitfire from the factory the next, and they could fly five or six deliveries a day from sun up to half an hour before dark, so they were long days.

I’ve nothing but admiration for the women pilots, many of whom hadn’t flown before the war, and some of whom never flew again afterwards. Sadly, the misogyny returned once the war was over. The women who impressed me the most were those who went on and found ways to continue flying despite the prejudice against taking on female pilots by the big airlines.  ATA pilots like Diana Barnato Walker, who was the first British woman to break the sound barrier, Joan Hughes, who became a stunt pilot for films and Mary Ellis who later became Managing Director of Sandown airport were exceptional in that they continued to fly after the war.

As part of my research, I visited the Air Transport Auxiliary Museum, in Maidenhead, near the Head Quarters aerodrome of White Waltham. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing artefacts and reading extra details that you can’t get in books. And did I need to have a go in the Spitfire simulator? Of course I did! When I was younger (and had more money!) I used to fly light aircraft and microlights, but the speed with which the “spitfire” covered the ground, and the extent of the poor visibility surprised me. My esteem for the pilots went up threefold.

For this remembrance weekend (Veteran’s Day in the US) I honour all those courageous women who risked their lives every time they flew, relying solely on a map and compass, without the aid of  flying instruments or radios.  They frequently faced poor weather as they undertook their assigned deliveries.  The ATA were sometimes described as the forgotten pilots as they didn’t get the media attention given to the RAF pilots. They are not forgotten.

What’s the Inspiration For a Story?

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Recently, I’ve been delighted to be invited to speak and read from my books and answer questions. One question that comes up quite regularly is, “Where I get the inspiration for my stories, is it a location, or a character?”

I know some people hear (or see) a character and how they behave in the world, but for me it is a situation, a challenge or conflict and I start thinking, “what if?”

My debut novel, Warm Pearls and Paper Cranes was prompted because one of my aunts instructed that she be buried with her housemate and friend rather than in the family plot. They weren’t lesbians, but I thought what if? What if two women had hidden their relationship from everyone for years, what would happen if they were put into different care homes? What if they were estranged from their relatives because they hadn’t been honest about who they were?

This book is also close to my heart as I became more distant from my aunt as she was very religious and didn’t approve of my lifestyle, and had always planned to reconnect when I had more time. So, I guess it was a way of trying to seek resolution, or absolution, for not getting to see her before she died. At least in Warm Pearls there is a happy ending and Maud is reconciled to her niece, Hannah.

Of Light and Love was inspired by an artist friend who was losing her eyesight and couldn’t paint any more. How gutting it must be to no longer do what you had devoted your life to, what gave you your sense of purpose and identity. What if you couldn’t paint anymore? Because the novel was a romance it seemed appropriate Caro had lost her muse. And because everyone loves a grumpy and sunshine, she needed a counterpoint to her grumpiness in the form of Laura. Of course, Laura also has a depth to her and her sunshine is often an act to cover up her hurt.

My newest release, Green for Love is an enemies-to-lovers story featuring an eco-warrior versus an oil executive. They meet in a high-end women’s only club and really click emotionally. Then they discover who the other is, and it all goes wrong with a clash of their different values and approach to life.

What was the inspiration? I was dating a woman and it seemed to be going well. We’d got to the third date and, being curious, I asked if she thought that her eco activism was effective, as I was genuinely interested. It was clearly the wrong thing to say. I had intended it as a conversation opener, not the fizzling end of what could be. Needless to say, we didn’t see each other again.

They say you should weave your life disappointments into your stories, so that became the nub of the conflict. Maybe there was a hangover though, as it took time and a rethink of one of the characters, because I didn’t like her in the first draft. Some authors can write someone they don’t like. I can’t.

It took a rewrite, after discussions with my editor, to really get under Lia’s skin, to hear her voice and understand where she was coming from, to really engage with her softer side. I think the story is so much stronger because of that, and certainly the early reviews bear that out. It’s available now on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited so you can check it out.

Has a particular incident spurred you to write, or wonder, “what if?”

Is there still a need for Sapphic Fiction?

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In my book group, it was my turn to choose the book this time. Naturally I chose an independent sapphic book, with the intention of trying to encourage my fellow readers to dip their toes into the waters of sapphic fiction. We had a discussion of the last lesfic book they had read, Jane Rule’s Desert of the Heart, which is probably as old as I am!

Sadly, I don’t think I converted anyone.  They said the book I chose was light and predictable.  It was a romance and by definition a romance should have a happy ending. As a group they’re used to reading literary fiction and they expected twists and turns and depth, so I guess they’re not used to the tropes and expectations of the genre. They would expect a mystery to solve the mystery at the end, surely?

Someone posed the question about whether there is a need for independent sapphic fiction any more. By inference there are so many sapphic themed books in the mainstream now it’s not necessary to have a separate genre. Certainly judging by the number of mainstream novels in the Amazon top 100 lesbian fiction bestsellers, they do seem to be pushing out the independent sapphic books.

I think it’s great that people can go into a bookshop and pick up a sapphic themed book, whether that’s from a mainstream publisher or an independent publisher, but the independent publishers will never get full access to the main shelves because those are tied up with the top publishers ( in the same way that the big music publishers gain access to the radio air lists).

So do we need an independent sapphic genre with publishing done by independent authors or small publishing houses? Yes we do, in my opinion, for the following reasons:

  1. Mainstream sapphic literature is written primarily by mainly white women of a certain age from the UK or USA. Whereas independent Sapphic fiction gives a voice and resonance to  the diversity of cultures and different identities within the term sapphic.
  2. Mainstream sapphic fiction is produced by large publishing houses who are primarily concerned with the profits they will make, therefore will tend towards what will appeal to the mass market (as happens in the movie business and the music business). Independent authors can and should include the range of diverse opinions and stories and take bigger risks in what they write and publish.
  3. Most of the mainstream books in the Amazon top 100 lesbian books are certainly less predictable than the sapphic fiction, but they are also much more likely to have an ambiguous or unhappy ending. As a community we need to have books dealing with life’s struggles with happy endings and believe we can walk off into the sunset holding hands.

If mainstream sapphic fiction truly embraced diversity and life affirming novels then maybe we wouldn’t need a separate shelf for sapphic fiction, but sadly people seem to be becoming entrenched in their reading (and watching and voting) habits rather than being open to discussing a different viewpoint. So I shall continue to read the literary fiction and sapphic fiction, both of which I love, and next time it’s my turn to choose a book I shall select another independent sapphic book for them to read and appraise. Maybe one day they will pick up another sapphic book and enjoy it. I can hope.

Why Bother With New Year’s Resolutions…

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Distracting The Princess from the sounds of fireworks on New Year's Eve

…if 64% of us will abandon them within one month of making them? Over the years I have repeatedly vowed to get fitter and lose weight and I’m still only seven pounds lighter than I’ve ever been. Admittedly, post menopause it’s fighting hormones (or lack of them) and the lowering of metabolism, but that doesn’t mean I should give up completely, does it?

My professional career was governed by goals, so much so I sweat and my pulse rises if I think I’m going to miss a deadline. There aren’t huge consequences if what I’m working on is delayed now, but I still feel agitated with anxiety. Not that I’ll give up.

I’ve made resolutions again this year in different areas of my life, including wanting to publish two books this year.

At New Year’s Eve we took stock of the last twelve months. This is probably the most useful part of the process, to reflect on what we’re grateful for and acknowledging the losses or disappointments.

For me the highlights were seeing my daughter graduate and having my debut novel, Warm Pearls and Paper Cranes, being given a Golden Crown Literary Society (Goldie) award. They were special particularly as my daughter struggles with her mental health and I was delighted she completed her degree despite that. For Warm Pearls I had no expectations that a dual timeline historical romance would be received as well as it was, as I was writing what I wanted to read and I’m so glad that others seemed to share that.

The Sapphic fiction books that left me thinking and therefore I enjoyed the most in 2022 were, in no particular order:

Don’t Tell Me Who To Love by Emma Nichols. I love the sensuousness of Emma’s writing and her descriptions of Granada were delicious. I could almost imagine myself looking out towards the Alhambra and feel the claustrophobia of family expectations.

Zamira Saliev by Valden Bush. Valden has a real talent for writing a gripping adventure story and expertly wove in a sweet romance between two unlikely characters.

Dead Letters from Paradise by Ann McMan. It would come under the title of mystery, but I love that Ann is a master at writing about dark subjects with humour and compassion.

Curious Wine by Katherine V Forrest. This was a reread this year, as two people I interviewed for my newsletter both said it was one of their favourite books. Despite being written in the early 80s, it still holds up and the characters are as fresh as ever and her writing is beautiful.

No Strings by Lucy Bexley. This is laugh out loud at times, and again I loved the comments about difficult subjects.

The Caphenon by Fletcher Delancey. This was a re-read and one of my comfort reads. Honestly wouldn’t it be fabulous to live in a place with a strong compassionate female leader who puts the good of the country before her own personal needs?

And my favourite audiobooks were:

A Whisper of Solace by Milena McKay. I resisted this for a while as I assumed it was all hype, and honestly did the world really need another Hollywood Ice Queen? I’m so glad I did as Milena shreds the typical tropes and grabs us by the throat with the emotional journey.

If I Don’t Ask by E.J.Noyes. Okay, I’m a sucker for Abby Craden voicing Rebecca Keane. Who cares if we know the story, it was interesting to get a different perspective and more back story, this was cat nip.

Sharing New Year’s Eve with friends, I loved exploring their hopes for the next year and relished the opportunity to have an in-depth conversation about their goals, desires and what makes them tick. It was also great to play with The Princess and try and distract her from the sounds of exploding fireworks.

Have a healthy and prosperous 2023 and thank you for reading and supporting my writing.

A League Of Their Own, The Queen and me

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Princess Elizabeth ( later Queen Elizabeth II) as an ambulance driver during WW2

Whatever your views on monarchy there is little doubt the passing of Queen Elizabeth II signifies the end of an era. For a 96-year-old woman to continue working for her country is phenomenal. She devoted her life to her service, which seemed to be a facet of the war generation who put duty first.

When I was doing research for my debut novel, Warm Pearls And Paper Cranes, I interviewed people who lived through WWII and the theme through all the narratives was the overriding sense of duty, of putting their needs aside for the greater good. This was something Maud held true to, just like the Queen.

Despite her wealth and power, the Queen had very little wriggle room to express herself, and she was supposed to be entirely neutral. I love that she engaged in a little humorous subterfuge, making political comments even though she never said a word out of place. For example, she wore a brooch given to her by the Obamas, when she met Trump; she wore a floral blue and yellow hat that looked like the European flag in post Brexit Britain; and drove the Saudi prince herself in her Land Rover. I also wonder if Paddington Bear coming to tea for the Jubilee was not just about the joke about what she had in her handbag, but also that she welcomed the bear from Peru, the refugee, at a time when the Government is making refugees criminals and deporting them to Rwanda, rather than treating them with the compassion and respect they deserve.

The lack of expression and opportunities was even more so with ordinary people. Ironically, women were only given opportunities because of war, whether that was jobs or unchaperoned access to a social life, and there would’ve been no women’s baseball team if it hadn’t been for the Second World War.

Like any self-respecting lesbian, I devoured the series A League Of Their Own desperate for queer representation on the small screen. The storyline that resonated most was that of Max and Clance, their wonderful friendship, and battling for representation and access to equal opportunities, which was denied them, despite there being an edict to help the war effort.

Although there are more opportunities for people now irrespective of race, gender, sexual orientation than there were when the Queen served as an ambulance driver during the war, we need to cling onto our rights and push for those who are denied to be who they truly are.

I did not Queue (capitalised of course) for hours to see the coffin, but I do mourn the end of the second Elizabethan age, and rue the passing of the putting-others-first war generation, and hope that we will continue to approach life with discussion across the divide and retain a sense of humour.

Of Art and Artists…

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Gentileschi, Artemisia; Self Portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria; The National Gallery, London; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/self-portrait-as-saint-catherine-of-alexandria-243732

Last week I completed the final edits on my new novel, Of Light and Love, which tells the story of a famous artist, Caro, who loses her muse when her wife dies and she can no longer paint. She has to resort to letting out a room to a younger woman, Laura, who is studying animation. It is a sapphic age gap romance, and also gave me an excuse to explore the nature of art. Naturally it required a lot of (extra) research, which was interesting, although most never reaches the page.

I thought it would be fun to include some of the paintings referred to in the book. The main picture is by Artemisia Gentileschi, who is Caro’s hero (and mine). She was an amazingly resilient woman, and despite a traumatic life she painted until old age with passion and sensitivity. Caro and Laura travel to the National Gallery in London and rave over the painting above.

Three other paintings mentioned in the book are Escher’s staircases as depicted in Relativity, which distorts perspectives and gravity; what should be coming up is going down etc. This is how Caro feels some of the time, following the death of her wife. The next painting also features a staircase, and is Duchamp’s Nude Descending a Staircase. This was one of the first representations of movement in a painting. Caro decides she’d like to paint Laura as she dances around the kitchen when she’s cooking. The final painting shown above is one of a series of paintings by David Hockney, done during lockdown on an iPad. Laura and Caro have a “discussion” about whether you can really paint using digital media. Caro is not impressed.

Anyway, fingers crossed Of Light and Love will be out in September. In the meantime if you would like a free story, do sign up for my quarterly newsletter. Follow this link http://eepurl.com/h2Bien and receive a free copy of When Hannah met Suki. Hannah and Suki are two main characters from my debut novel Warm Pearls and Paper Cranes.

Cover for When Hannah met Suki

Exploding Out of Writer’s Block

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Hindenburg disaster
Hindenburg Disaster 1937

Okay that’s a tad dramatic, but to be honest I’ve been struggling the past few days to get words on the screen, for my latest novel, working title Love in a Green Climate. Ironically, I wrote more words per day when I was on holiday in Lanzarote than I have at home with no distractions. I even resorted to clearing out part of the garage and waiting in the line for the recycling centre to avoid writing. The story is all plotted out ( thanks to the Global Wordsmiths retreat a few weeks ago) and I have written the backstory of my characters, but the words flowed as readily as bitumen, by which I mean hardly at all.

I didn’t like the characters very much. It’s an enemies to lovers tale (two people on different sides of the climate change debate) and they were just being snarky and bitchy with each other. I thought there’s no way these two would ever get together. I pushed through, trying to force them together but nothing worked. They made it very clear they didn’t want to be in the same room together, never mind anything else.

So I paused and let them settle and sulk while I did more research on the whole climate change debate. I love electric cars but it worries me that lithium, which is critical in batteries, is a finite resource and is devastating for the environment when it’s extracted. I then explored the use of hydrogen, which got a bad rep after the Hindenburg disaster in the 1930s, yet the latest technology uses smaller cells and is less explosive than fossil fuels. To be truly ecological though the hydrogen needs to be made using renewable energy. As always there are compromises and concerns, and I wanted to show this in the novel without becoming proselytising. I’ve taken copious notes, but I was still stuck on the writing.

If you don’t like your characters how can you write about them? I can’t, and I’m sure people wouldn’t want to read about them either, unless they have a very strong understanding of why they are as they are.

This morning about five am I woke from a strange dream where I was running. Although I entered half marathons and 10ks in the past, I haven’t run for about ten years because my knees have had it, but it seemed obvious that my characters needed to go for an impromptu run to break down the barriers while they sweated and competed against each other. I don’t know if it will make the final cut, but it was the breakthrough I needed to get me back on track. I was going to say “off and running” but thought that would be too groan worthy.

Finally, my characters are talking to me. But they’re feisty, strong women and don’t want to be coralled where they don’t want to go. So I’ll let them have a bit more rope and see where they take me. Wish me luck.

Everything is Blue and Yellow

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Download a copy today on getbook.at/LesFicEclecticUkraine to read some great WLW stories and raise money to help Ukraine

Facing down the barrel of another war it is too easy to slip into helpless rage and sorrow, even though it may be pointless.
I don’t normally make political comments but I detest unfairness and lack of compassion and humanity towards the Ukrainian refugees.

I wrote a poem after the capitulation in Afghanistan, but sadly it applies equally to the Ukraine where people fleeing war are denied access to the UK and have to go through ridiculous bureaucratic processes to have their visa applications scrutinised.

On the passing of Priti’s Bill
( Priti Patel is the UK Home Secretary responsible for visas to enter the UK)
January 2022

Desperation does not wait
for embassies to file
its visa application,
If the embassy’s still there,
Or the authorities approve.
If you need to flee
to save your life
To catch the last plane out
You go.
And all the lives
And limbs blown up
The scrambling of minds
Was it worth the sacrifice?
For nothing?
Our shame at leaving Kabul to its fate,
The women’s lives undone, unwound,
The promises we’ve broken,
The lies we told.
Where is humanity?
Hiding in fear
Along with trust
And cowering under cover.
And the minister of liquid lies
Says we’re all right
Don’t worry
Like giving a dummy
To a baby.
But we know, we see, we witness.
We stand, we shout, we tear down walls.
If there are no rights for everyone
There are no rights at all.
—-

And so months later we are faced with another humanitarian crisis, this time in Ukraine. As individuals we cannot stop the war, but we can support those agencies who are on the ground making a difference, and those who are making small acts of resistance where they can.
I admire those in Russia opposing the war, like the old woman on the metro wearing yellow and blue, I wish her courage.
To those in Ukraine resisting as they can I wish for strength and resilience.
For those fleeing war I wish for safety and welcome.

For those who mock and satirise i am grateful for the smile, like the council in Don Laoghaire, Ireland who have proposed a change of address for the Russian Embassy from Orwell Road to Independent Ukraine Road.

If everyone of us did a little we can impact the lives of those fleeing and help.
When Robyn Nyx of Butterworth Books asked if I’d be happy for my story to be included in the lesfic eclectic 3 anthology which is now being sold through Amazon to raise funds for the Disaster Emergency Committee in Ukraine I jumped at the chance.
So please donate what you can directly to DEC

https://www.dec.org.uk/


And also,
do yourself a favour,
download lesfic eclectic 3.
You raise money to help agencies in Ukraine AND you get to read some fabulous WLW fiction from both established authors and newbies like me.
The link to purchase is:

getbook.at/LesFicEclecticUkraine

Thank you.

🙏

To Read or Not To Read, That is the Question?

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Recording studio for a day

There is nothing so excruciating as hearing your own voice played back with all the stumbles and sibilants. I take my hat off to the professional voice actors who do this day in and day out. My editor suggested that I record me reading my debut novel, Warm Pearls and Paper Cranes. I would have loved to pay for a professional to bring the characters to life, but it is a dual timeline, dual romance book, which means it is long, and would be beyond the budget of a debut author, unless I treat it as a loss leader!

We only recorded three chapters ( of fifty) as a sample and it took all morning. I was very lucky that a friend has all the equipment ( and editing skills) and was happy to do it as a favour, but I felt guilty at taking up his time. I couldn’t help giggling at a malapropism or two and was surprised at all the pacing errors, sharp intakes of breath, and crinkly trousers. Who knew walking trousers have a noisy rustle to them?

You would have thought with two degrees, professional qualifications and a career’s worth of presentations that I would be able to read my own words without sounding inarticulate, but no. To be fair, Paul, my friend, said with some practice and chopping it down into smaller segments I could get there. The question is whether I want to invest the time and effort and maybe still not be happy with the result. Conversely, I could squint at my bank account and pay for a professional, but what if they don’t voice my characters as I have them in my head, and I’m still disappointed?

So I’m left with a dilemma; to record my own work or not. What are your views on authors narrated their own works?

The Unexpected Emotions On Completing the Shitty First Draft

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Finish of the Shitty First Draft…

I’ve completed the shitty first draft of my latest novel with a day to spare. The revised goal was to complete it by the end of the year, and it has been a struggle as I’ve spent a large chunk of the last few months looking after my 92-year-old Dad and my brother who has just had a major operation. I was then laid low with labyrinthitis, which sounds like it ought to by a sequel to a film by Guillermo Del Toro, but is an infection of the inner ear, so it was sit up and throw up for a number of weeks. I’m very grateful to the help of my friends and the writing retreat run by Global Wordsmiths to get me to the finish line.

After dancing around the lounge in celebration, I returned to the computer, was faced with an empty page, and felt … bereft. I’ve got a million things to do, none of which appeals, and I know I’ll motivate myself to do at least some of them later on, but I was surprised by the strength of the emotion. It’s not as if I don’t know I’ll need to rewrite the novel a few times before it is fit for public consumption, because I do, but I expected to feel jubilation and relief and a sense of achievement, not an aching sense of loss. So, after a cup of tea and a little reflection I reckoned it was the loss of sense of purpose. Not the obligations and duties which seem to increase exponentially because those are always there with their heavy reminders, but the sense of doing something that fills my thoughts and warms my soul.

Does anyone else have this sense of deflation after finishing something?