Wednesday, 20 April 2016

Guest Blog about Rosemary Morris and Writing

Today I am a Caroll Bradd's guest. If you have time, you may read the blog. The link is:http://blog.lindacarroll-bradd.com/?p=920

All the best,

Rosemary Morris
Multi-published Historical Novelist

Friday, 15 April 2016

Free Read:Daisy my Flash Fiction Won 2nd Prize.

I'm pleased to share my350 word flash fiction 'Daisy' which won second prize at Watford Writers.


 

 
                                                               Daisy

 

Jack stared at the cheque. If the court verdict resulted in no other couple suffering as they had, it was more important than the money.

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, and took out a pair of tiny socks with lace-edged frills. The ones Daisy had worn when they had rushed her to outpatients at the weekend.

“Nothing serious,” the intern said.

Frightened, they gave Daisy her medicine, cooled her with damp flannels, and then, panic stricken, took her to the surgery.

A year ago they had looked forward to Daisy’s first white Christmas. Instead of celebrating it they watched snow gently settle on her tiny satin-lined coffin.

Their grief-stricken parents and other relatives rallied to help them. Fair weather friends avoided them, not knowing what to say.

Counselling helped to break free of their individual prison cells of sorrow, and to communicate with each other. It also gave Jack the courage to insist Emily visited her parents to be cossetted.

Alone in the house, where the memory of Daisy’s chuckles echoed, Jack had packed her clothes and toys. If his heart had been brutally ripped out, surely the pain could not have been worse. 

Tears filled his eyes. His arms ached to recapture the past. Another baby could never replace Daisy, but he or she would have a unique place filled with his love.

Jack sighed. Once, when he was a small boy he played with his sister’s doll and pushchair.

“What are you doing?” his mother had asked.

Even at that age he realised she was surprised.

“I’m pretending to be a daddy,” he replied.

He had always looked forward to bringing up his children, but now it was up to his wife.

Emily arrived as softly as one of the snowflakes falling outside.

For fear of upsetting her, he quickly returned the socks to his pocket.

She kissed his cheek. “I’m ready.”

“For what?” He hoped she would say what he longed to hear.

“Another baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more certain.”

A year later, Poppy joined Daisy in his heart forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday, 11 April 2016

Guest on Anastasia Pollock's Blog


11th April. Today I am a guest of Anastasia Pollock, crafts editor and reluctant amateur sleuth, on her blog, Crafty Knitters. My article features naval captain, Edward Howard, the hero of my novel, The Captain and The Countess. Edward’s outstanding artistic ability makes him more perceptive than most gentlemen in Queen Anne Stuart’s reign, 1706-1714. 

LINK:

 
http://www/anastasiapollack.blogspot.com/2016/04/crafts-with-anastasia-guest-author.html

 
Rosemary Morris

Multi Published Historical Novelist

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

Sunday, 10 April 2016

Stretching Mind and Body


Hooray. By almost ignoring social media for four months I have just finished researching, revising and editing my new 85,000 word historical novel. Three more chapters to post, one by one, to my online critique group. After I receive constructive feedback, I'll put the novel aside for a month before I read through it and make minor corrections etc.

 
This morning, I also worked in the garden, I planted a rosemary bush that languished in a plant pot all winter. At one end of an eight foot by five foot vegetable patch, I planted yellow gladioli in groups of five, removed tete-a-tete daffodils from pots and interspersed them with the gladioli. They will flower against the backdrop of the holly bush and make a splash of colour. I also raked the bed and worked potato fertiliser into it before planting chitted second early potatoes. Phew! I shall put my feet up and read for pleasure,

 
All the best,

Rosemary Morris

Multi Published Historical Novelist

 

Stretching the Mind and Body


Hooray. By almost ignoring social media for four months I have just finished researching, revising and editing my new 85,000 word historical novel. Three more chapters to post, one by one, to my online critique group. After I receive constructive feedback, I'll put the novel aside for a month before I read through it and make minor corrections etc.

 
This morning, I also worked in the garden, I planted a rosemary bush that languished in a plant pot all winter. At one end of an eight foot by five foot vegetable patch, I planted yellow gladioli in groups of five, removed tete-a-tete daffodils from pots and interspersed them with the gladioli. They will flower against the backdrop of the holly bush and make a splash of colour. I also raked the bed and worked potato fertiliser into it before planting chitted second early potatoes. Phew! I shall put my feet up and read for pleasure,

 
All the best,

Rosemary Morris

Multi Published Historical Novelist

 

Monday, 4 April 2016

Touching Base

I'm have returned to social media after two months during which I have been very productive. I finished the third of my days of the week series, Tuesday's Child and have nearly finished editing and revising it with the online critique group that I am a member of. Two of my Flash Fiction stories won second prizes at the Watford Writers, the group I belong to, and I've written a short story for a weekly woman's magazine. I also double checked the spelling and grammar in my mediaeval novel set in the reign of Edward II. Phew! And now it's nearly time to write a competition entry, a short story and begin a new novel, as well as getting on in my garden in which I grow, fruit, herbs, ornamentals and vegetables.

All the best,
Rosemary Morris
Multi Published Historical Novelist

 

Monday, 21 March 2016

Article re:Writing Historical Fiction at Love Romance

I have neglected all of you while completing the final revision and edit of my mediaeval novel set in the reign of Edward II, and writing my new novel, Tuesday's Child, set in the Regency era.
 
Just popping in to let you know that, to day, I am Dawn Roberts' guest at Love Romance, where she has posted my article about writing historical fiction.
Rosemary Morris
Author of Romantic Historical Novels


Tuesday, 16 February 2016

Free Flash Fiction Valentine's Day Story.

Watford Writers invited members to submit a Flash Fiction 350 word Valentine's Day story. I'm delighted to have won second prize for Unchained Love. I hope you enjoy it. Your comments will be very welcome.


Unchained Love

 

The consultant broke the news. “I’m very sorry to tell you both that Paul only has two months to live.”

He and I packed as much as possible into December and January. His last birthday celebrated at a restaurant, although he could eat little. Christmas, at our daughter’s house. My final goodbye at the graveside.

February brought slate grey skies and curtains of rain. Valentine’s Day approached. No cards or flowers for me this year

The shop is filled with heart-shaped balloons. Invitations to Be My Valentine. Cards ornamented with glitter, beads and ribbons are filled with romantic messages, and decorated with roses or cupids with bows in hand ready to shoot arrows.

I splash my way to Paul’s tombstone where I prop my card, wrapped in cling film. The rain washes away my tears, but can’t kill the powerful fragrance of red roses. It pierces my heart. I arrange the flowers in a vase and place them on the marble slab. God, please bless, my darling. One day, may we be reunited?

I trudge between graves, on some of which are sodden teddy bears. So much loss. My own threatens to overwhelm me. I want to run back to Paul’s last resting place and fling myself onto it. To tell him life is unbearable without him. Instead I catch the bus to the house we shared, every part of which brings poignant memories. Oh, we weren’t the perfect couple. Sometimes we had arguments, but they couldn’t have been important because I can’t remember what they were about.

I answer a knock on the front door. My next door neighbour holds out red roses. She smiles but looks curiously at me. “These came for you while you were out.”

Who on earth could they be from?

Alone, I read the card that nestled in the heart of the bouquet.

“My love, you filled my life with joy. Although I’ve left you, for my sake, please fill yours with happiness.”

I don’t know if I can ever again be happy, but day by day, for Paul’s sake, I shall try.