Welcome, Jen!
Hi Sue, and thanks for inviting me to join you on the blog
today.
It’s ‘publication eve’ and I’m fretting, as usual. Well,
partly fretting, and partly oddly calm. This is the first dip of my toe into
self-publishing, and although I’m nervous it’ll all end in failure, I’m also
slightly content in that if that is the case, at least I’m not letting anyone
down…
The Last Plantagenet?
has been several years in the making, having started life as an idea for an (at
the time) new Mills & Boon line, Historical Undone, looking for historical
fiction with a twist. I decided to explore the idea of being transported back
to the court of Richard III, and the idea just expanded from there to a short
piece of just under 20,000 words. Below is one of the scenes from early in the
story, just as Kate finds herself somewhere, but where, or when…?
“You! Come along now!
This is no time to be idle – hurry, now!”
Kate forced herself to
focus. She was standing, albeit uncertainly, still in the same kitchen, beside
the great fireplace, but now, the flames were a lot more real than they had
been minutes earlier. She gradually realised the voice was coming from a young
man in front of her, around her age, shouting at her, wearing a smart,
colourful livery, emblazoned with the royal crest. A live kitchen demonstration
hadn’t been part of the day’s programme, but whatever was going on, this man
seemed real enough, she thought, looking him up and down. As he continued to
stand in front of her, so did his anger.
“Now! This bread isn’t
going to deliver itself!” he barked at her again, pointing to the pewter tray
by the side of the fire.
Kate opened her mouth
to argue, explain that she wasn’t part of the re-enactment, that there had been
some sort of mistake, and that she really was just there to watch, not play
along. But the man wasn’t listening. He was staring at her, clearly waiting for
her to do something. She looked around her in confusion; how had health and
safety allowed a man to stand, half-naked, as he turned the spit in the flames,
fat from the roasting pig flying in all directions? Wait. A half-naked man?
Kate found her eyes wandering, then, remembering the liveried servant and keen
to avoid another blast of his anger, she picked up the tray he had indicated,
and followed him from the room. The pig, and the man, would no doubt still be
there on her return; she could return later, if it so took her fancy. She
thought back to every re-enactment she had ever attended, and tried to pull
herself together; she knew enough to get through whatever situation she had
found herself in.
As they rushed up the
narrow stairs, trays balanced precariously, Kate tried to understand what could
have happened to her. Her first thought was that it was all a dream; that the
lightning must have dislodged some masonry, and knocked her out. But this was
all too real. The smells were so pungent, the blazing heat of the fire so
fierce, and the cloth of her dress... Her dress! In her haste to pick up the
tray, Kate hadn’t even noticed what she was wearing. Now, she looked down on
herself, noting the intricate, albeit relatively shabby lacing on the front of
her gown, leading down to the low-heeled clogs on her feet. All her life she
had yearned for a dress like this, although, if she were honest, something of
higher class than serving clothes would have been nicer. Then a thought stopped
her in her tracks. She had been in jeans, t-shirt and ballet pumps at the
re-enactment. Who had dressed her up like this? And where were her own clothes?
Nervous, and now uncomfortable at the thought of being manhandled when
unconscious, Kate looked about her: the lad who had shouted at her earlier, the
other ‘servants’, those in a higher quality of dress that they were
encountering as they made their way through the stone passages; any of these
people could have done anything to her. The day felt a lot darker than it had
started out. For a moment, the thought flitted into her mind that somehow, this
really was fifteenth century England, and clearly, Kate’s role in this time was
that of a serving girl, not a duchess. But still, it couldn’t truly be real,
could it? Some sort of concussion, or drug-based stupor, brought on by too
strong a medication given to her after she had somehow knocked herself out, or
injured herself as she ran in from the rain. That was it. Cobbles did get
slippery in the rain, after all.
If you’d like to find out more, then please come and join in
the online launch tomorrow evening over on Facebook here, and of
course, the book itself is available for pre-order here
right now, if you want to make sure it’s on your kindle first thing to get
reading…
About Jennifer
Jennifer is
a marine biologist by training, who spent much of her childhood stalking Mary,
Queen of Scots (initially accidentally, but then with intention). She completed
her BSc and MSc at the University of Hull, and has worked as a marine
environmental consulting since graduating. Enrolling on an adult education
workshop on her return to the north-east reignited Jennifer’s pastime of
creative writing, and she has been filling notebooks ever since. In 2014,
Jennifer won the Story Tyne short story competition, and also continues to
develop her poetic voice, reading at a number of events, and with several
pieces available online. She is also part of The Next Page, running workshops
and other literary events in North Tyneside.
Jennifer’s
debut novel, Kindred Spirits: Tower of London, was released by Crooked Cat Books
in October 2015, with Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile following in June 2017. She can be
found online at her website, on Twitter and Facebook, as well as at The Next Page’s website. Her timeslip historical romance, The Last Plantagenet? is available for pre-order now.
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