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Author, Avid Tweeter & Blogger, Lover of books, Teacher of Maths & Swimming, Mother, Speaks Spanish, Friend to many...

Saturday, 9 May 2015

May? Seriously?

How on earth did that happen?

I wrote my last blog post in December! Truth is, I am over 60,000 words into my novel but it is nowhere near completion.

Writing historical fiction is like running a marathon. I would have to train for years before I ever tried one. This book is doing the same to me.

One tiny step at a time.

The problem is not only time but also the thought process. Writing a scene is so hard to visualise and at times I take a week just to think about how I will approach it.

I think I'll stick to normal fiction after this...

Here is a snippet for anyone interested! Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Vanessa :)

"The sight of the iron steam tug waiting on the Thames left Bolton with mixed feelings. It was not much to look at, with a set of twin central funnels that churned out black smoke and large wheels at either side, but it would serve as a taxi to the next destination. As he boarded, with a small bag to carry his meagre possessions, he glanced back at the Woolwich docks and wondered when, if ever, he would return. As they set off, Bolton decided to join some of the crew and wave at a few children racing alongside the ship.

The journey to Gravesend did not take too long and soon they came up alongside a much bigger vessel and got ready to disembark. The HM Adventure was surely not as famous as the vessel that took James Cook to record the first European contact with the eastern coastline of Australia, but it certainly took its fair share of recruits over the Atlantic Ocean. With its iron cladding and central sails it resembled a tin bath from his youth. Not as glorious as the beautiful tall ships he longed to sail aboard.

It seemed to take days before the ship was ready to sail. When it did, progress was slow and steady. Bolton made his way below deck and tried to find his brother, Emmott, who was also on board. The smell was already worse than that emanating from the Thames and he dreaded the thought of been stuck on board for about a month. He knew vermin was bound to lie in wait ready to pounce at night-time. No doubt this would be a long trip. The main consolation was the fact he was heading for the West Indies. It was surely going to be more exciting than gloomy, grey England."