#WEP August Challenge - my #flashfiction using the movie, Chocolat as the prompt.

Hello there! I'm glad you came by to read my #flashfiction based on the movie prompt - Chocolat. Those who have read my novel, Paris Dreams, will recognise the restaurant where I set the two main characters' first break up. My follow up book, still in the works, is also set in Paris, and is based on a traditional French cookery school. I've incorporated some ideas from that as well. And even the service overseas is in my new book, so I had several ideas to play with for this story. 

Please enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this.

Tastes of Love

 

The restaurant, with its silky red walls and black chandeliers, wrapped its dark arms around me, welcomed me home to Paris after a long absence. As a war correspondent in the Middle East, food, any food was a bonus eaten on the run, but I can’t recall the taste, but I recall much else I’d rather forget.

“Concentrate on the joys you’ve experienced, not the tragedies,” my therapist, Celeste, advised during  our session today.

“What do you know of tragedy?” I couldn’t help saying, raw from my latest loss.

“Pardon. You’re right of course.” She smoothed her perfect chignon, freshened her bright red lipstick then cooed to her pet birds in the covered courtyard of her luxurious apartment. “But try.”

I’m trying. 

Immersing myself in what has always brought me joy – traditional French food. Traditional French food never changes and tonight I relished that. I’ve had enough change for now. The meals at Le Chocolat (pronounced show-ko-lah, don’t you love it!) are typically French – plain, tasty, inexpensive peasant's food which is what I love best. It’s never fussy with modern twists and miniscule servings which don’t work for me. I rarely choose my restaurants by Michelin stars – I choose those with hearty, old-fashioned meals like Maman and Grand’Mere used to cook.

Waiters here are as traditional as the food. My favorite, Maurice, caught my eye, hurried to my table, pulled out my chair, flicked a crisp white napkin and placed it on my lap. “Shall I bring the mussels, Cara?” He scanned the room. “But where is your friend?”

Oh my heart. “He couldn’t make it, désolé. Mais oui to the mussels, s’il te plait, Maurice.”

I dealt with those rattly little mouthfuls of joy quickly, relishing the white wine and cream sauce, nectar of the gods. I struggled to stay in the moment, sorry Celeste; I shake my head and instead anticipate the rich onion soup, Le Chocolat's signature dish.

Maurice was already whipping away my plate and placing a huge white bowl before me. Ooh la la. What could beat the shot of sweet onion fragrance on a bitter winter's night?  Hmm. Concentrate, Cara. That soaked garlicky bread and long, stringy toasted cheese always sticks to my chin. Let’s face it; there is no elegant way to eat this dense soup, but tonight no one dabs my messy face with a napkin. But the soup; I wanted to live in the bowl, be revived by the nourishing juices, build myself up for my next assignment, Ukraine. Where will I find food over there?

Maurice offered me a free cocktail. I held the tiny, jeweled glass against the light, mesmerized by the play of diamonds and rich red liquid. I held it close to my nose, hesitated, sipped. It tasted of rose perfume, a sweet flavor that clashed with my morbid thoughts. Guilt crept over me; I try to push it away, but it refuses to leave. Why should I survive to live another day, eat another joyous meal, while my fellow correspondent, Benoit, ate his last meal then stepped onto an IB outside the restaurant? 

I will visit his parents in Montmartre after dinner which is why my stomach is taut and I’m forcing myself to enjoy every mouthful. For Benoit. Benoit. We shared so many meals at Le Chocolat and Maurice always gave us that tiny cocktail. He was performing an act of kindness, but memories turned my taste to dust.

I pushed it aside and ordered a rich red to accompany the Beef Bourguignon which Maurice has delivered to my table. The sharp aromas of tiny roasted onions, carrot, and rich, red, melt-in-your-mouth beef...my stomach danced, relaxed a little. How Benoit loved this dish and always reached across the table to finish mine! 

I lifted my fork, speared a cube of tender meat. The flavor of red wine mixed with onion and herbs revealed to me, if the mussels and onion soup hadn't already convinced me, that I was back in Paris.

It was pleasant beyond words to be drinking good wine and eating excellent food - a bottle of wine and a plate of comforting food is always good company, tonight, my only company.

Maurice saw I was immersed in my food and drink and left me to my joys and sorrows, only coming by to top up my wine at regular intervals. I saw in his doleful eyes that he’d realized Benoit wasn’t coming back, and he offered succor in the way he knew best. 

He raised his eyebrows.

I nodded. Yes, please.

Chocolat.

We always finished our meal with a platter of perfectly-created chocolat in all shapes, sizes and colors.

I reached for a dark star-shaped chocolate with golden hearts and placed it on my tongue.

“Au revoir, Benoit,” I whispered. “I hope you’re somewhere enjoying plentiful food, my love.”

TAGLINE: Food is a memory trigger extraordinaire!

~*~

WORDS: 817

FCA

BIG NEWS! A FLASH FICTION ANTHOLOGY!

Mock up cover only created on Canva

If you enjoy writing flash fiction, please go HERE to read about WEP's upcoming Anthology. If you've ever written to a WEP challenge, or do so before December '23, you are invited to submit.

If you like the idea of writing to prompts, October is our next, run by our very own thriller queen, Yolanda Renee. Please think about what you could do with the Phantom of the Opera prompt. Go HERE for ideas to get your creative juices flowing.

Thanks again for reading! I'll visit as soon as I can.

Denise

#WEP August challenge - #Moonlight Sonata - #photoessay - Tonga underwater volcano.

 Hello friends!

Here is my entry in the WEP writing contest for the prompt, Moonlight Sonata. Many ideas ran through my mind when I saw the prompt, but the image inspired the following, a photo essay. 

MOONLIGHT SONATA

Sonata form is a (musical) structure generally consisting of three main sections: an exposition, a development, and a recapitulation. It has been used widely since the middle of the 18th century.

Sounds like the structure of a story to me – an exposition (beginning), a development (middle) and a recapitulation (denouement).

SUNRISE. SUNSET

“The 15 January blast sent shock waves around the globe and defied scientific expectations.” (nature.com)

Exposition

The spectacle we’re seeing in our Australian skies begins and ends each day on a grace note. Every morning and evening during our unaccustomed-bitter-cold-flood-prone winter, there’s a gift to be had if we look upward, an astonishing beauty that offers a time to reflect in those few moments between dark and light in the morning and light and dark at night.

Australia and the Pacific Islands

Where did these spectacular daily shows of outstanding beauty originate? In Tonga. Tonga? Yes. The undersea volcanic eruption that devastated the little Pacific Island and surrounding islands on 15 January 2022 lasted 11 hours and cost precious lives. It was the most powerful explosion in more than 30 years, with an equivalent force of 100 Hiroshima bombs. Scientists have not yet worked out exactly what happened during the cataclysmic explosion — and what it means for future volcanic risks. The eruption is forcing scientists to rethink their ideas on the hazards posed by the many submarine volcanoes that lurk beneath the waves of the Pacific Ocean.

The volcano, full name Hunga Tonga–Hunga Ha‘apai, erupted before dawn, 492 feet (150 meters) below the ocean's surface, when the island was bathed in moonlight. It sent a plume of ash soaring into the upper atmosphere and triggered a tsunami that destroyed homes on Tonga’s nearby islands. The plume of ash and dust reached higher into the atmosphere than any other eruption on record and triggered more than 590,000 lightning strikes in three days. Reverberations from the eruption circled the globe multiple times, but probably most of us knew nothing about it.

The extraordinary power of the blast, captured by a range of sophisticated Earth-observing satellites, has challenged ideas about the physics of eruptions. Researchers are finding it hard to explain why the volcano sent a cloud to such heights, yet emitted less ash than would be expected for an eruption of such magnitude. And the shock waves that rippled through the atmosphere and oceans are unlike anything seen in the modern scientific era.

The eruption threw up vast amounts of ash, sulphates and water vapor into the stratosphere, three times as many aerosols as usual contributing to …

The development …

…what we’re seeing in our evening skies. Particles in the atmosphere provide a surface on which to scatter light which results in breath-taking sunrises and sunsets. It provides a vast show-off moment in the battle of the realms, earthly versus heavenly. There are moments like this in nature – consider the mythical swansong of that silent bird who sings so sweetly just before death.

Each night, I stand at my bedroom window and watch nature’s magnificent dance, the colors pale, then bright, then intense, before fading into the night. Those wondrous blazes of fiery warmth cause me to gaze at the sky, remember loved ones who have passed, loved ones who live nearby, loved ones living on the other side of the world. Definitely a spiritual moment.

I’m not up early enough to watch every sunrise, but when I am, I’m glad I’m present for the show. Not as spectacular as sunset, but spectacular all the same. That bright ray that promises another day is born, a day to do what you will, to make good choices or bad, to love or hate. (I always am thankful that the brightness I’m seeing isn’t from missiles, bombs or nuclear explosions. It’s just nature sharing its giggly joy at coming back for another show).

 The recapitulation

As the morning begins with the orange orb pushing upwards on our horizon or the night curtain is drawn on another day, don’t we all hope that it will last a little longer? By the time we rush for our cameras, it’s gone. Then we remind ourselves that nothing lasts forever.

Summer is coming; the bitter cold that has clenched Australia for months while our brothers and sisters in the Northern Hemisphere have sweltered through heatwaves and fires, this too will pass. But on a bright note, the Tongan-inspired sunrises and sunsets will linger for another year.

The sunset sky is to me like an artist's canvas, filled with skilful brushstrokes of reds, purples, oranges and yellows. As the sunset fades, the sun gradually melts into the sky like paint into canvas, like a person waving goodbye and walking into the distance, far, far away; and darkness settles in and night closes around us, softly, like a fading musical note at the close of a symphony.

TAGLINE: There are more things that nature has wrought than humans can ever imagine.

808 words

FCA

I hope you enjoyed my take on the entry. Click in my sidebar to read more entries in our writing competition.

I'm On The Road Again as of this morning, the 17th, hauling my caravan northwards to hotter climes in the tropics. We are in the grips of, to us, a freezing winter. 

I'll answer comments as soon as I'm able.

And if you want to join the fun and are ready to be creeped out for Halloween, consider writing something for us in October - Thriller!!!! 

After a hiatus, Renee is back with a vengeance. She has treats galore in store for you! She really loves her horror-fests. And as a prize for the best entry, Renee offers a beta read/critique of your WIP. Go for it!!!

If horror's not your thing, go HERE for other ideas.

Thanks for reading ...

Denise

#IWSG August #How #travel influences #writing - A new #cozymystery from Elizabeth Varadan

 Hi all!

Welcome to the August IWSG. Today I'm not answering the optional question. Instead, I'm talking about connecting with blogger friends and how travel influences our writing.

The awesome co-hosts for the August 3 posting of the IWSG are Tara Tyler, Lisa Buie Collard, Loni Townsend, and Lee Lowery!

  Be sure to visit the
Insecure Writer’s Support Group Website!!!

Many bloggers have abandoned blogging for Facebook or Twitter or some such, but there are a few die-hard bloggers still around to keep me company.

The blogosphere is a wonderful place. I know I'm not the only one who has made friends for life and who has gone on to meet some in person, turning a digital friendship into a personal one. If we're feeling insecure, chatting with a blogger friend is often the antidote.

Even when blogger friends are only digital, I've found them awesome writing partners because we're in a truly global community and help each other in several ways:

- I often flick off a quick email about words/phrases/spellings that might be used in, for example, the US, as my books are marketed to a primarily US audience. 

- I can ask a blogger in a certain city something only a local might know and they can do the same. I had a recent query about words/phrases that would have been used in early Australia, for example, and I was happy to oblige.

- I can flick off the first chapter of a tricky manuscript when I just can't nail it. Bloggers as beta readers are worth their weight in reciprocal opportunities.

- I've made good virtual friends due to travel. When I was traveling in Portugal a few years back, Elizabeth Varadan asked me to check something in the Portuguese city of Braga. She since moved to the city in question herself. Like me, Elizabeth likes to write the settings she knows, and her travels influence her books.

I asked Elizabeth one question:

What influence on your writing did living in Portugal have?

I first went to Braga specifically to get first-hand information for my first book in the series. At that time my husband and I had been traveling to Galicia to a village vacation home we had bought, but I wanted to set a mystery in Portugal, so I checked to see what Portuguese city of interest was close enough to Galicia to visit — and it was Braga. I had done research online and made contacts online as well whom I met on our first visit in spring of that year, when the series opens. This was in 2014 (the year of the series).

 We fell in love with Braga. It’s an historic city with art, beautiful gardens, and interesting architecture, and, like Galicia, both a Roman and a Celtic history. We ate at restaurants I had chosen from online, and we made lovely friends who told us about events and new places. Walking the streets, visiting the shops, having the tactile and logistic sense of the place made all the difference in the details I could use in my books, as did the feel of the weather and the light at differing times of day. Now, of course, after many visits, followed by living there for over a year, it’s so familiar. I can close my eyes and picture a particular building or the angle of a street, feel the cobblestones. Not to mention being able to recall foods I savor.

Does Elizabeth have your attention?

Released on August 4, is her new cozy mystery, set in Braga, Portugal, titled Deadly Verse. It's about a stolen manuscript by Portugal's most famous Renaissance poet, Luis Vaz de Camoes. 

Sounds intriguing to me. This is what people are saying:

"Deadly Verse is a colorful and fascinating journey to Braga, Portugal. The murders, plot twists and turns, plus memorable characters will keep you reading until the surprise ending."      Cindy Sample, National bestselling and award-winning author of the Laurel McKay Mysteries

 “Two Americans in Braga, Portugal, are given an ancient poem by the country's famous poet to safeguard. When their friend is killed, the couple are drawn into the ruthless world of antiquarian booksellers and collectors. What sets this mystery apart are descriptions of the Portuguese setting, festivals, food and traditions. Varadan's writing becomes poetic when describing country and city she clearly loves.”      Sunny Frazier, author of the Christy Bristol Astrology Mysteries

 If you like cozy mysteries of the Sherlock Holmes ilk, support Elizabeth as she releases her new novel to the world (whilst winging her way back to the States). 

Elizabeth Varadan is a former teacher and Sherlock Holmes fan who writes poetry, children’s fiction, and adult mysteries. She and her husband live in Sacramento, California. They love to travel and divide their time abroad between Braga, Portugal, and Galicia, Spain.

 Varadan’s stories, flash fictions and poems have appeared in literary magazines and anthologies. Imogene and the Case of the Missing Pearls, a middle grade mystery featuring Sherlock Holmes, was published in 2015 by MX Publishing. Her story “Kidnapped” was included in a 2016 Holmes-related story collection, Beyond Watson, by Belanger Books, and “What the Raven Knew,” was included 2019 in Sherlock Holmes, Adventures in the Realms of Edgar A Poe. In 2017 Belanger Books published her picture book, Dragonella, in English and in Spanish, followed in 2018 by a children’s story collection, Carnival of the Animals. In 2019 her chapbook, Saudade, Thirty Poems of Longing, was published by Finishing Line Press.

Author Links

Blog: http://elizabethvaradansfourthwish.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/elizabethvaradan

Twitter: https://twitter.com/4thWishVaradan

Amazon author page: https://author.amazon.com/home

 Link to Trailer

https://vimeo.com/724543646?fbclid=IwAR0IL0xIFpUWW82LGkq1Aq0_aC7gFQ9MBAkpLRjLrvQcq34ehOnLcwoDgbw

 Release date

August 4, 2022

 Purchase Information

Amazon (allow a few days following August 4^th)

Belanger Books (allow a few days following August 4^th) 

~*~

A post from me wouldn't be complete without a shout out from WEP. If you'd like to join a group of enthusiastic writers, check out the August 1 post where the new challenge is explained. 

How could you resist writing something in response to this? You have two weeks to come up with your masterpiece!

A couple questions for you -

- Have you made excellent blogger friends?

- Do you swap intelligence regarding your WIPs?

- Do you read cozy mysteries?

Please support Elizabeth with an encouraging word as she embarks on a new adventure, settling back into the US.

Thanks, blogger friends,

I couldn't find a picture of a Portuguese Custard Tart (Pasteis de nata) - I was too busy eating them to take a lot of snaps, so you'll have to make do with Crème brûlée and coffee from Paris.

Denise

#WEPAUGUSTCHALLENGE - FREEDOM OF SPEECH - MY #FLASHFICTION, The Silent Apocalypse

 Hello everyone! Thanks for coming by to read more WEP entries for #YearoftheArt!

I'll start with the awesome news that we've added Jemi Fraser to the WEP team. Jemi has been such an enthusiastic member since she discovered us. Her magic pen has placed in many challenges. I'm sure her enthusiasm will translate to a positive working relationship with the WEP team and the many enthusiastic writers who turn up every two months and share golden gems.

The WEP August challenge, FREEDOM OF SPEECH. 

Some people have let me know they are afraid of this subject. Maybe it is a little much following FREEDOM OF SPEECH. Nevertheless, I hope you will craft an entry which allows you to say what you want without being too worried about offending anyone. 

My story is one I posted a year ago, but the second half I've re-written to reflect this challenge. I tried to come up with something different, but my mind kept flashing to this story which was inspired by the series, 'Chernobyl'. Of course there are many parallels with the pandemic. During every disaster, there is a tug-of-war between the powerful and the powerless. At the moment, the innocents in Afghanistan are front of mind.

Without further ado here is my offering for FREEDOM OF SPEECH.

The Silent Apocalypse

The silent apocalypse began on June 17, 2050, at 3.24 in the morning. As the sun rose on Ground Zero on Day One, the disaster revealed itself.

 The town. A tourist mecca. Obliterated. Reduced to a blackened postcard.

A smoking sarcophagus 

No sign of life except for a red fox loping across the desolate landscape. Silence reigned except for ghostly voices shouted from empty streets, auditory mirages heard only by God Himself.

 Abandoned vehicles piled beside roads like discarded toys, in carparks, underneath apartment buildings. The aircraft hangar was empty of helicopters and small planes used in the hasty evacuation that began at midnight when the night workers raised the alarm.

 The story was inside the apartment buildings. Clothes draped over heaters. Unmade beds. Abandoned books on nightstands. Each room, an empty stage set at the end of a play. Waiting for the next act. The raised curtain.

 But the curtain would never rise again.

 Radioactivity.

 It had changed the color of the trees. Those who walked around the perimeter of the exclusion zone on Day Two dubbed it the Crimson Forest because of the foliage and the blood-red tape which looped from tree to tree, its nuclear symbol flapping in the gentle breeze. ‘Keep out! Danger!’

 Day Three. Dawn. Site inspection. Scientists in hazmat suits. Geiger counters emitting rhythmical electrical sounds like a coded message from another dimension.

 Radiation leaked out of the exclusion zone with every gust of wind, a silent killer.

 The people did not need to know.

 Best to keep the secret.

 Assured via their digital devices that it was business as usual, the people of Pérougé continued their life outside the exclusion zone, oblivious to Death already seeping through their bones, their cells, their blood. They enjoyed the amenities their town offered – restaurants, cinemas, theatres, sports centres, amusement parks. They were proud of their shiny new hospitals, little knowing they’d soon be overflowing with those presenting with suppurating sores, weakness, unexplained bleeding.

 The authorities downplayed the accident. Of course. That was the way things were done in 2050. Had always been done, really. In this world you were either the powerful or the powerless. People must be kept in blissful ignorance. Imagine if they knew the Geiger counter readings. The scientists were confused enough. Maybe that latest batch of counters was faulty.

 Nuclear reactors were being built in every powerful nation. If word spread of this disaster, a whole industry would be brought to its knees. The government would not allow that to happen. Even now “volunteers” were searching inside the reactor to ascertain the cause of the explosion. “Volunteers” were expendable.

 It was the people’s fault. They had demanded nuclear power when renewables failed them. No one wanted to shiver through darkness when the sun refused to shine or the wind refused to blow. Fossil fuels were yesterday's news.

 Under strict orders from the government to silence the chattering masses, Mayor Blaise called a Town Hall meeting. He needed to put out the fires begun by people showing symptoms of nuclear radiation.

 The mayor puffed out his chest and addressed the townspeople. ‘People of Pérougé, this is not another Chernobyl. Our knowledge of nuclear plants has grown exponentially since the 1980s.’

 A woman hugging a tiny baby to her chest stood, coughing, interrupting his prepared speech. Her voice wavered when she asked, ‘My name is Madame Buci. How bad is it, Monsieur Mayor?’ Her baby began to cry. The mother began to cry. Coupled with her coughing, it was a terrible sound.

 ‘Only one reactor has been compromised, Madame Buci. Stay outside the exclusion zone and no harm will come to you or your little one.’ The mayor wiped his forehead on a large handkerchief kept expressly for the purpose of wiping away his sins.

 A grey-haired man with a patchy red face pushed himself from his chair and stood unsteadily, using two walking sticks for balance. ‘What about Chernobyl? I heard—’

 ‘Chernobyl! Chernobyl!’ The crowd surged to their feet like an angry sea, fists pumped the air, faces suffused with anger. ‘How long did the authorities hush that up?’ A young man with a deathly white face screamed. ‘Don’t you think we study history! Thousands were infected, died, sacrificed on the altar of political malfeasance.’

 The mayor held his hands in the air until the crackle died down. ‘Don’t put credence in urban myths – Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, Fukushima... Nuclear disasters of a past time. Pérougé is safe as is every town, city and country outside the exclusion zone. Your new apartments are safe. Stay inside. Shut your windows until the radioactivity at Ground Zero recedes. We assure you, the radioactivity is contained.’

 ‘Bullshit!’ A man with fiery red hair called from the back of the hall, fighting off two burly security guards who tried to drag him outside. Even from a distance, anyone could see the red welts on his face and arms.

 Mayor Blaise ripped his prepared speech in half. ‘Sir, sit down. Listen. Did you see a nuclear cloud? No! Proof that modern technology is working to keep you safe.’

 The red-headed man refused to sit. He tugged and pulled and resisted all efforts to shut him down. ‘My name is Benoit Gabriel. I go on record as a proponent of free speech.' His gaze took in the crowd. 'This town will have its say. Every citizen deserves to be heard.’

 The crowd chanted: ‘Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!’

 ‘Do you hear that, Mister Mayor?’ Benoit asked. ‘We demand our right to be heard.’

 Mayor Blaise puffed out his chest. ‘There are occasions when freedom of speech is dangerous. This is such a time. I am the mayor. My committee is behind me! Sit, Sir. You have had your say!’

 Benoit pumped his fist into the air. ‘Hear me out. We, the people, do not trust you and your fancy committee in your fancy suits feeding us a barrel load of lies. You’re in and out, a whistle stop tour.  What do you care? I have my own Geiger counter. It’s old, but reliable. It's been in my family since Chernobyl. The readings have surged to astronomical levels. We’re guinea pigs. Safe, be damned.’

 Truer words were never spoken.

 Wolves howled.

 Darkness besieged the gates of the town as the silent killer spread its poison.

Soon the landscape would be a grim black postcard.

                                                   

                                            ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

WORDS: 1045

FCA

Thank you for reading my entry. If you like the idea of writing to a picture prompt, please join us for our October challenge where some let horror rip, while others manage to write without delving into their dark side. So what is your take on Edvard Munch's The Scream? We love to meet new writers! Our challenges are open to all!

#IWSG JUNE 2020. The Beginner's Guide to Loneliness - Laura Bambrey on changes in the #publishing world.

This month I'm continuing my guest blogs for blogger friends who've recently published. Today I welcome Laura Bambrey. I've known Laura nearly as long as I've been blogging and was delighted when I read her Facebook post when she was in the throes of excitement at having her manuscript picked up by Simon and Schuster! Go Laura! So I got onto her right away and invited her here for IWSG day.

Click HERE to access more IWSG posts

Alex's awesome co-hosts for the July 1 posting of the IWSG are Jenni Enzor, Beth Camp, Liesbet @ Roaming About, Tyrean Martinson, and Sandra Cox!

  Be sure to visit the
Insecure Writer’s Support Group Website!!!

July 1 question - There have been many industry changes in the last decade, so what are some changes you would like to see happen in the next decade?

Hi Denise and thank you for having me on your fabulous blog. It’s really exciting to be taking part in the ISWG as a debut author having been a part of the group as a blogger so many years ago - lapping up everyone’s advice and dreaming of the day!

This month’s question is a fascinating one, and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it before sitting down to write. I’ve realised that if it wasn’t for all the changes in the publishing industry over the last decade, I wouldn’t have a book coming out at the end of the month! I don’t have an agent, and yet I’ve been signed by Simon and Schuster. How? Because they hold one-day open submissions slots for their #DigitalOriginals line for various genres. Having spotted this open-call on Twitter, I submitted directly to them and was lucky enough that my manuscript caught their eye.

Of course, the explosion of social media means that the distance between reader and author is now almost invisible - just a screen separating them. From the moment The Beginner’s Guide to Loneliness was announced, I’ve been chatting about it with readers, reviewers and authors from around the world. An author’s work is no longer over when they sign off their final draft and hand it over to the publisher - and that’s something I find incredibly exciting. Whether you’re traditionally published, self-published or a hybrid of the two, the opportunity to be in conversation with the book community and potential readers is right there - a couple of clicks away.

If you can get online, then you have the ability to build up a community of readers around you. But don’t worry if you’re not there yet - I’ve seen many agents and publishers openly state that it’s not a deal-breaker if you don’t have a social media presence - if they love the book, they love the book. The flip side of this is that if they love the book and you have built up your author platform as well, then - bonus!! And there’s no doubt in my mind that all these bookish conversations help books reach new readers.

So what changes would I like to see in the industry in the next 10 years? I would love for e-books to hold equal importance and respect within the industry as physical books. So many amazing publishers, including my own, pour the full weight of their creativity, talent and drive into their digital publishing arms. Awesome indie authors are riding high in the charts and have vast followings of loyal readers. It’s now time for these e-books to be recognised and included on the bestseller lists, featured in the industry and mainstream media and become eligible for literary prizes. 

Here in the UK,  changes are already afoot. 2019 saw kindle chart-topping author Nicola May championing e-books, and following a discussion between her and Philip Jones of The Bookseller - the magazine published its very first e-book chart. There’s still a long way to go - but I look forward to more positive changes within the industry over the next decade. 

A book is a book, and it shouldn’t matter how it reaches its audience.

The Beginner's Guide to Loneliness is out on 28th July and available to pre-order now!

The Blurb

The perfect feel-good read from an exciting new voice in women’s fiction, for fans of Heidi Swain, Cathy Bramley and Jenny Colgan.

Tori Williamson is alone. After a tragic event left her isolated from her loved ones, she’s been struggling to find her way back to, well – herself. That’s why she set up her blog, The Beginner’s Guide to Loneliness, as a way of – anonymously – connecting with the outside world and reaching others who just need a little help sometimes.

When she’s offered a free spot on a wellbeing retreat in exchange for a review on her blog, Tori is anxious about opening herself up to new surroundings. But after her three closest friends – who she talks to online but has never actually met – convince her it’ll do her some good, she reluctantly agrees and heads off for three weeks in the wild (well, a farm in Wales).

From the moment she arrives, Tori is sceptical and quickly finds herself drawn to fellow sceptic Than, the retreat’s dark and mysterious latecomer. But as the beauty of The Farm slowly comes to light she realizes that opening herself up might not be the worst thing. And sharing a yurt with fellow retreater Bay definitely isn’t.  Will the retreat be able to fix Tori? Or will she finally learn that being lonely doesn’t mean she’s broken . . .

Welcome to The Beginner’s Guide to Loneliness! Where you can learn to move mountains by picking up the smallest of stones…

Amazon UK link

Amazon US link

Author Bio

Laura Bambrey was born in Dorset but raised in Wales. She’s worked as a trapeze choreographer, sculpture conservator and stilt walker, amongst others, and spent most of her time collecting stories from the people she met along the way.

She has spent many years as a book blogger and reviewer of women’s fiction and now lives in Devon with her very own romantic hero and a ridiculously fluffy rabbit named Mop. The Beginner’s Guide to Loneliness is her début novel.

You can follow her on:

Twitter, Facebook, Instagram or on her Blog

Thanks Laura! It was so exciting to host you today. I've pre-ordered and can't
wait to read. Thank you for sharing your
insights into publishing. I wish you every success!

If you'd like to show the love to Laura, please TWEET!



The Beginner's Guide to Loneliness The perfect feel-good read https://dencovey.blogspot.com/2020/07/iwsg-june-2020-beginners-guide-to.html @LauraBambrey @DeniseCCovey #debutauthor, #publishing, #ebook,
#DigitalOriginals, #SimonandSchuster
#IWSG


And of course I can't leave without inviting you all to participate in WEP's AUGUST challenge -

JUNE'S WEP was its usual success with fascinating dark tales for the URBAN NIGHTMARE we find ourselves in! Writing during this time has proved cathartic for so many.