A chat between two writers


I first met Claire and Helena through the flash fiction site ‘Friday Fictioneers‘ and I’m so pleased that I did. Their writing, though very different is quite brilliant.

Claire Fuller's avatarClaire Fuller

Last week I had an online chat with Helena Hann-Basquiat a Canadian writer, about our recent and forthcoming publications.

My novel Our Endless Numbered Days, has already received positive reviews in the national press, and Helena currently has a Pubslush campaign taking pre-orders for Memoirs of a Dilettante Volume Two, and is also publishing a Shakespearean-style play, a tragi-comedy called Penelope, Countess of Arcadia. 

Overheard over coffee at Helena’s…

The one, the only Helena Hann-Basquiat, everyone's favorite dilettante

I’ve just grabbed a coffee, are you sitting comfortably?

Claire Fuller Colour

Yep!

The one, the only Helena Hann-Basquiat, everyone's favorite dilettante

Well, Claire, I guess to start off, I should say that I really only know you from Friday Fictioneers, but that I’ve already a respect for your writing. I can’t recall how long ago you announced that Our Endless Numbered Days was being published, but I recall being excited. How long a journey has this been for you?

Claire Fuller Colour

The book sold in the UK and Canada nineteen months ago…

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Making Tracks


I’m late, I’m late… thanks Rochelle for keeping us on the straight and narrow and to Dawn for a lovely photo from her trek to Machu Picchu – it’s on my list…

Copyright Dawn Q.

Copyright Dawn Q. Landau

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Making Tracks

The juiciest blackberries grew alongside the tracks; with a sick husband and five children to feed, Anna happily accepted nature’s help. Becky snatched the pail from her mother, furious the others were never sent picking.

At lunchtime Anna set off to look for her. Though her eldest child might have womanly curves, she was still a child. Anna found the half-filled pail, but no sign of her daughter.

In a car heading out of town, Becky smoothed her new dress.  She felt the driver’s eyes on her body and smiled.  She could handle him, just like the boys in school.

 

 click Mr Frog to read more great stories

 

Sending warmest congratulations to Rochelle on having her second book accepted and to Claire Fuller whose debut novel ‘Our Endless Numbered Days’ has received some great reviews.  I am full of admiration for them both, it is lovely to share their company and their well deserved success, they have set the bar very high for us lesser mortals…

Tracking down ‘my convict’


2015 is the year I intend to devote to completing the story of the life of my ancestor, Richard Boothman. I thought it may be good to recap on how I started this journey and where I am so far, for those of you who may not have seen the earlier posts.

Convict in my tree – part 1

I started researching my family tree almost ten years ago and today, like thousands of other people across the world, I am still trying to find my story; where I came from and what shaped me.  I started where all good ancestry researchers should, with my living relatives.  From them I got a lot of basic, necessary information like dates and places of birth and names of spouses etc which was a great place to start.

As I built my family tree, with more and more information gleaned from various sources, not least of which was ancestry.co.uk a story from my childhood kept coming back and niggling at the back of my mind.  My paternal grandmother was a great storyteller; I used to sit at her feet enthralled, listening to stories ranging from fairies at the bottom of my grandfather’s allotment to the tale of the man who, being wrongfully accused of a very, very bad crime, was sent far, far away from his family and friends to a desolate place across the sea, never to return.  I remember my sister and I having very bad dreams about him and my mother telling us not to fret as it was only a story and not true.

Over the years my research dragged on.  Then one day, I got a letter from my aunt, in response to a plea for help with the seemingly endless list of children borne to my great grandparents.  She listed all the children that she knew of and then, at the bottom of the last page, mentioned just how bad life had been for some people in those days and gave as an example,  the visits made to Lancaster Castle by female members of my great great grandmother’s family.  She had been told the stories as a little girl, about women walking miles to visit a male relative imprisoned in the jail there.

This must be the man in my grandmother’s story.  He was real!  I knew then that I wouldn’t rest until I had found out all I could, I just had to know who this man was and if indeed he was one of my ancestors…………….(to be continued)

Convict in my tree – part 2

The story of the convict stayed with me and I spent many nights on the computer, searching the family history sites trying to find out anything I could.  I decided to write to the librarian in Colne, explain what information I had and see if they had any documents that could throw some light on the story my aunt had told me.

I eventually had a reply, telling me there was only one man from the town who seemed to fit the bill.  His name was Richard Boothman and, at a riot in Colne on 10 August 1840 he killed a policeman.

I went onto the Lancaster prison website and typed his name into the database, nothing. There were long lists of prisoners who had stolen bread, horses, murdered their neighbours, husbands and wives, but no mention of Richard Boothman. Then one morning, whilst trying to sort out all the papers and folders I had on my family tree, I came across a package at the bottom of the box.  It contained an old book, all about the history of Colne, that had belonged to my great grandmother and had been given to me when my grandmother died.  It was written by a local historian in 1878.  I had scanned it briefly when I received it, but the writing style was very staid and after a while, just plain boring, so I had not got very far and had stopped not long after the bit about a supposed Roman settlement!

I picked it up again, wondering if there could possibly be anything in it about this case.  I sat on the floor of the study, slowly turning the thin, dry pages of small print until, towards the back of the book, in a chapter entitled “Guilty or Not Guilty” I found the story of Richard Boothman, weaver and murderer.

Since then I have spent hours trying to piece together his story and I am still working on it.  I have transcripts of letters he wrote from prison to his father, who never got over the shock of what happened to his son.  I read of him protesting his innocence and begging his father to find townspeople who would speak on his behalf at his trial and in one letter telling his father that ” the Assizes commence the 20th March” and could he please have a new pair of shoes.  Later, in February, he tells his father that he is” preparing to meet his fate with fortitude and courage”.  Some townspeople do make the long journey to speak for him at his trial, but he is found “guilty of  wilful murder”.

However, very strenuous efforts were made on his behalf for many believed in his innocence, and on 7 April 1841 there was success of a kind as a reprieve was issued.  But any hope was dashed on 14 April as he was served with an order for transportation for life.  Shortly after that he was taken from Lancaster prison to the prison hulks at Woolwich. He and the other prisoners were kept in squalid conditions and sent ashore to work across the river, unloading cargoes at the docks.  He worked there until he was transferred in shackles to the Barossa which set sail for Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) and arrived in Hobart on 13 January 1842.

The National Archive in Hobart  were very helpful and I obtained a lot of information from them, including reports that he served his sentence at Impression Bay, Westbury, Quamby, Peth and Launceston; that he was considered a good worker; that in January 1844 his original term of probation expired and on 5 February 1850 he was granted his “Ticket of Leave”. Finally on 7 June 1853 his conditional pardon was approved.  He married another prisoner, Mary Brown who had left London on the convict ship St Vincent and it seems he settled in Launceston where he farmed until his death in 1877.  He is buried just outside Launceston.

The times he lived in were incredibly hard, he was a weaver at the time of the Chartist riots, a period of great unrest and yes, he probably did fight to defend his livelihood. I am glad that he survived transportation when so many convicts perished; I believe in his innocence and feel sad that the punishment he received was so harsh and that he never saw his family again.

I have helped others find a place in their family tree for Richard Boothman and also fill in a few gaps in the lists of the convict ships, but as much as I would dearly love to find a place for him in my family tree, I can’t yet .  I know that some of my great great grandmother’s family lived in the same street as the Boothmans, could it be that the story that has come down to me, is one of  the women of the street coming together to support the family in a time of great need?  Could it be that the women who walked those long, long miles to Lancaster prison with food and clothing for Richard were his sisters and their close friends from the street?  Perhaps I’ll never know, perhaps we are not related, but I know I will go on looking

Extract from ‘Chartist Ancestors’

Richard Boothman: A Lancashire weaver, Boothman was convicted of killing a policeman (named Joseph Halstead) in a riot at Colne on 10 August 1840. George Rude argues that Boothman’s Chartist credentials are not necessarily clear, but that the circumstances of the incident suggest a “better than even” chance of a political motive. Boothman maintained his innocence, but after his original sentence of death was commuted to transportation for life, sailed for Tasmania on the Barossa, arriving in Hobart on 13 January 1842. After two years at Impression Bay, Boothman went to work at in the north of the island. He continued to deny responsibility for the crime and to ask relatives to petition for his return in letters home, but was to die in Launceston, Tasmania, in 1877.

 

Weed Killer


It’s that time again when we Friday Fictioneers are sharpening our wits and our pencils, trying to come up with a suitable story to satisfy our dynamic leader, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (she who must be obeyed).  Great photo this week courtesy of Roger Bultot.

I may miss the ‘Call for Submissions’ next week as we are taking a family holiday in Majorca. I’ll miss you and will do my best to catch up. Take care of yourselves x

 22 AugustGenre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Weed Killer

‘Can’t we have something other than weeds?’

‘I like weeds, they’re different’

‘I’d like some flowers Charlie’

‘Weeds are easy to grow; flowers aren’t macho’

‘And weeds are?’

‘I trim them, keep them in check’…

Sally went indoors.  They’d had the same argument for months, Charlie wouldn’t listen and she’d had enough.

She picked up the phone, it really was the only way to stop him.  And besides, neighbours had started complaining about the sickly smell emanating from the shed whenever he and Joe were in there, having a smoke.

She only wanted a few flowers.

Not much to ask.

 

More stories to delight you here –

An Invitation


I love the old desk in the photo this week and wonder how many ‘letters’ we will receive…

Thanks to Mr Fields for the photo and for Mrs Fields for continuing to mark our work and support our efforts.

Copyright Jan Fields

Copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

An Invitation

Dearest Ellen

My words will be a shock to you and I beg you be seated whilst you read them.

When I refused Henry’s proposal, I know you were saddened as you wanted us to be sisters.  My disposition would not have suited your brother and I believed the wedded state was not for me.

I write to you to confess that I was wrong in my belief and have accepted the proposal of marriage from Arthur Nicholls. The wedding will be in June, my dearest wish is that you will be my witness.  

Your loving and devoted friend

Charlotte

 

Read more Friday Fictioneers stories – I insist 

 

This letter could have been written by Charlotte Bronte to her dear friend Ellen Nussey. Ellen’s brother Henry did propose to Charlotte and she did refuse him citing her disposition as the main reason they would not get on.  Charlotte married her father’s curate Arthur Bell Nicholls in June 1854.  Sadly the marriage was happy but short, Charlotte died on 31 March 1855 in the early stages of pregnancy.

If you would like to read more the link will take you to the website of the  Bronte Society

Bronte Society

Bronte Society – Ellen Nussey

 

 

 

 

A Response to ‘Women Against Feminism.’


iwantedwings's avatariwantedwings

Imagine this:

The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.

Your world is full of freedom and possibility.

Then you…

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No Forks Needed


I’m pleased to say we are having a mini heatwave here in Wales; it happens so rarely I feel completely justified in revelling in it. It is also the week of the Royal Welsh Show, last year both exhibitors and visitors were up to their armpits in mud, slush and mire, so I am really pleased they can enjoy the sunshine too.

Glad to be able to submit an FF story this week and my thanks to our top chef Rochelle for selecting such an unusual photograph to tempt us with.  Thanks also to Marie Gail Stratford for taking it.

25 July 2014

No Forks Needed

Genre: Crime

Word Count: 100

Mary sat at her usual table, her laptop open and ready. The story she was writing was going well, but now she was stuck. Did she kill off the character giving her problems, or try to rework the plot? She was watching the street, waiting for her muse to return, when two strangers came in.

One man went to the kitchen. She heard a blood curdling scream and saw Wu Tan stagger out, clutching the knife embedded in his chest. The men ran into the street and disappeared.

Mary stared at Wu and flexed her fingers, her muse was back.

 

 for more stories from the other Fictioneers

The ‘why’ is the easy bit, the ‘what’ a little harder to understand


I have been following the recent WordPress challenge ‘Writing 101’ – you note that I say ‘following’ –  it should actually read ‘participating  in’ but I confess I have only added two posts instead of the intended post every day. (Sorry WP staffers, I fell by the wayside).

At the start, I really wanted to take part and answer the prompts with well thought out posts and if I can’t manage to get a post out there every day, what the heck am I doing joining up in the first place? But in my defence I also have a full-time job and the husband you will read about later. So a point for good intentions at least?

This started me thinking about blogging, why I do it and what I am hoping to achieve. The why is easy, I want to write, I have things to say,  having a blog is a way of getting my work and my thoughts out there, the second question I find harder to answer.

I started my blog exactly five years ago this weekend.  I had been thinking about retirement as my husband had taken early retirement and wanted me to do the same.  I had read reports in the press of the increasing numbers of people approaching retirement age, who wanted to carry on working, in some cases they just had to.  I wasn’t ready to retire then and I’m not now, but I thought that I would share my thoughts on my blog.  So my first post went out there ‘Some thoughts on retirement’.

I  thought it was a reasonably interesting subject and looked forward to a response from the blogosphere, but zilch – zero – nought – nix – nothing.

I was disappointed, realising  that I cared more than I thought I would about the fact no-one had read my blog. I thought about this ‘rejection’ for a while, then reasoned that obviously there must be a lot of other bloggers on WordPress discussing more interesting things than retirement. (Yes, I was that naive)

I carried on blogging.  But it wasn’t until towards the end of the year that one kind person clicked the ‘like’ button, and it was well into 2010 before my blog started receiving a few regular visitors. I analysed the posts and found that when I followed a photography challenge for instance, I had lots of visitors, but my normal posts carried on receiving little attention.

Undaunted, I carried on with a mix of photo challenges and ordinary posts.  Late summer of 2012 I was invited to join the Friday Fictioneers group.  I read a few of the posts submitted by some of the other writers and felt very dubious about attempting to join them. Their writing was of a very high standard – in my opinion it still is – and the idea of writing 100 words inspired by a photo prompt was huge a challenge, something I had never attempted before.

I took a deep breath, then submitted my first post ‘Shrouded‘. I was amazed by the almost instant feedback from the group. They were very welcoming, supportive and kind to a newcomer. When I faltered they urged me to continue, their criticism was always constructive and their support invaluable. Nowadays, we still share our stories but consider each other more as friends and the comments certainly reflect that – illnesses, family problems, travel plans have all been mentioned and shared.

Since joining the group two years ago, the visitors to my blog have increased, mainly through the other writers as we comment on each others’ stories, but also from new followers, who have found something they like and have stayed. And I thank them sincerely.

I’m delighted when someone leaves a comment, I enjoy responding and then reading and commenting on their work.  It’s a bit like building a pyramid, thankfully it hasn’t taken as long as the ones at Giza!

When I read the stats in a Daily Post, about the number of bloggers using WordPress – like several million – and the number of posts published each and every day – several more million –  I am doubly grateful that my posts have attracted any readers at all.  I am also pleased that my work is not just disappearing into the ether, nor am I talking to myself.

So, what do I hope to achieve? I think the answer has to be to just enjoy doing what I like doing, not worry too much that it’s not perfect, or going to set the world on fire. After all we can’t all be racehorses, there have to be some plodders farther down the field!