Monday 3 December 2012

Love and Loss and Chinese Politics.

You'll notice, if you have read any of my previous work, that I tend to write about human emotions. Love and loss are my favourite subjects. They fascinate me, because really, I am torn between not understanding them enough and feeling like I understand them too much.

However, sometimes I do write about other things. I was fascinated earlier in the year by a slice of Chinese history. I won't go into it in detail here, but I was reading a lot about the Great Leap Forward and the Four Pests Campaign initiated by Mao Zedong. The idea was that there were four key pests who ate the grain that the Chinese labourers worked hard to farm and harvest - flies, mosquitos, rats and sparrows - and that by eradicating these, the nation would be better off. Unfortunately the plan kinda backfired, as by killing the majority of the sparrow population, the insects that they fed upon, including locusts, went through a huge population explosion, leading to a terrible ecological imbalance. This in turn contributed to the Great Chinese Famine in which 30 million people died.



Everyone, Come and Fight Sparrows

They are the enemy, picking at the grain.
The grain so scarce,
Our population so great.
We are at war, everyone, come and fight.
The boys with their stones
And slingshots, popping and snapping
Knocking them spinning down,
And men with their guns,
Decimating, the feathers falling.

Out in the streets
We bang pots and pans,
We hammer on drums,
And the birds circle in the sky,
Stranded.
Too scared to land
Until they fall, exhausted, 
To the ground.
And we have won.

Tear down their nests.
Climb trees and take eggs.
Smash them, grab the nestlings
And crush them.
Be a good soldier 
In this war against pests.
There will be rewards for those
Who kill the most;
Awards and recognition.
And we have won.

The evil dirt brown birds
Driven close to extinction.
The grain safe from their
Greedy, snapping beaks.
They are gone.

Out in the streets
We celebrate.
We bang on our drums and
No more birds circle in the sky.
Now locusts swarm our land.
The food of the birds
Now uncontrolled.
Their population so great.

Our harvest has been exceptional,
Tell them that in the cities.
Our campaign was a success.
We have won.
We fought the sparrows,
We were the victors.
But the farmers were taken
To work in the cities
And the locusts have eaten our crops.

They are they enemy, devouring our grain.
The grain so plentiful.
Yet no one to harvest it.
Our ally, the sparrows,
Are gone. 

The cities take the grain
That we have managed to save
And ship it to Africa, to Cuba,
While we starve in our villages
Out in the hills.
Away from the public eye.
The propaganda sells our success
Because we have won.

More locusts, then more,
An explosion of population so great.
We poison and spread our pesticides
And hear the earth sigh
As thirty million die.
Our pots and pans empty
Have we won?

Monday 26 November 2012

What you wish for.

Tonight's subject is "be careful what you wish for".

Growing up, I remember wishing that I was older, that I knew more, that I could do all of the things that I was "too young" for. Now, especially as Christmas draws closer, I think back to those days of innocence and wish that I could see the sparkles and magic through less jaded eyes.

I still believe in Father Christmas, of course...

Jayney x



Twinkle Twinkle

As a child I watched the stars
Wondering just what they are.
Up above the world they shine
Granting wishes from on high.
Twinkle Twinkle little star,
Grant my wish, tell me what you are.

Twinkle twinkle, then I saw
A light from ancient times, no more.
Not up above, but out in space.
Out of time, and out of place.
Supernova, dying star,
Now I know just what you are.

Wednesday 21 November 2012

Novels and Poems

I've been busily writing my follow up novel, working title "Derelict". When people ask me how long it took me to write "Charcoal" the answer varies between "2 years", which is the timespan from actually starting writing to finishing the final draft, to "all my life". This is, in many ways, true. I am hopeful that Derelict will not take quite as long to complete!

This month sees the publication of one of my poems "Jubilee Memories" in an anthology from Forward Poetry. Amazingly, it has a jubilee theme - although the celebrations seem like a long time ago now.

I have a different poem for you today, based on one too many visits to soft play areas.

Sunday Dads

All the kids in the cage
Whilst the Sunday dads sit down
Drinking tea, reading the paper,
Looking everywhere but
At the two mewling boys
They brought with them.
Stood, finger-gripping 
The netted enclosure,
Everything padded and safe.
"Dad!" A shout. "Watch me!"
And reluctantly they look up
From their papers to see 
nothing special.
Once a week, this routine:
Kids in their scruffs, and 
Dads in their bests.
Letting the mums know 
They're doing ok. That
Everything's fine (now).
Down the wavy slide
And up the padded path.
"I've had an accident in the ball pool"
Is covered up by the statement
That it's time to go home. 

Monday 5 November 2012

Fire Night and Fireflies

Life has been busy, and although I have been writing, I haven't been updating this blog nearly enough.

Work on the second novel is coming along well though, despite life trying to get in the way.

As it is November 5th - Bonfire Night - the subject for the writing group tonight was fire. Here's what I made of that.

Fireflies make it look easy

You and I and the fireflies,
Near exhausted, nearing the end.
Alone in warm summer darkness
We sat beneath a canopy of ghostly pine,
Unseen, but scenting the air green.
You built a fire
From logs too thick, too wet,
Too sticky-fresh with sap to burn
And I watched the sparks fly
And fade.
Each danced for a moment
In a dervish whirl of orange.
Too soon, their time over, extinguished,
Spinning back to blackness.
You were shadow; I was silent.
Though we tried to make flames,
To ignite whatever we could find,
Whatever was left,
We failed.

Tuesday 18 September 2012

Free download of Charcoal!

If you haven't already downloaded my novel, Charcoal, you can get it for FREE from Amazon today and tomorrow (18th and 19th September).

The link to download is:

UK readers: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Charcoal-ebook/dp/B008FKBUJW

US readers: http://www.amazon.com/Charcoal-ebook/dp/B008FKBUJW

Please share the links with your friends and enjoy!

You don't need a Kindle to download it - you can get a free app for the PC or for iPod/iPad/iPhone etc.

Wednesday 12 September 2012

I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

Tonight I have been searching for something that I couldn't find. I thought I knew where I had put it...but apparently not! What it was is irrelevant, because I found some of my notebooks, and I thought I would share a couple of poems with you.

Would Like To Meet

Thank you for your message,
I'm pleased you like my 'pics'.
I've only just joined up here
And so far it's been quite....
An experience.

Yes, I'm into music
With quite eclectic taste -
You want to see more photos,
To see more than just my face?

First please tell me some more
About the things you do -
I don't want to see your six pack,
I'm not interested, thank you.

There'll be no naked photos
I'm not looking for that.
I've got a degree (I've got three),
A few kids, and some cats.

Sorry if that puts you off,
I'm not sure that we're matched.
I'm looking for intelligence
And opposites don't attract.


Digital

Love used to be kept in a box
Under the bed.
A strip of photographs,
Four white-bordered squares,
Photo booth fun with someone.
Me, looking younger,
Smiling. In love.

Now love is digitalised,
Trapped in a hard drive.
Messages on phone screens
For a month and then
Lost.
Our photographs never printed,
Never touched.

Then, when love is gone,
We click 'delete'
And move on.

Monday 10 September 2012

Let's write something "happy"

Regular readers of my work may know by now that I am not particularly known for writing cheerful pieces. I'm sure it's not a spoiler for my novel, Charcoal, to say that it's quite a dark story - after all, the blurb starts with "Jess is dead". Never going to be a romantic comedy, that one.

So I was feeling the pressure heading to my writing group tonight in the knowledge that the subject for tonight's writing was going to be something light-hearted. Light-hearted, I do not do. My genre is DARK-hearted.

Of course though, even given the subject of writing a piece about winning the lottery, from a partner's point of view, it doesn't have to have a happy ending.  You can read tonight's writing at the end of this post.

Firstly though, some news! I will be holding another Free Download Day for my novel on Tuesday next week. That will be the 18th September then.

The download link are:
for UK buyers: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Charcoal-ebook/dp/B008FKBUJW/
for US buyers: http://www.amazon.com/Charcoal-ebook/dp/B008FKBUJW/

If you haven't already bought a copy or missed out on the last free download then please get yourself a copy next Tuesday.  If you have read and enjoyed it already, then please share the links with your family, friends, followers, or anyone else that you think would like a free download.

Thank you!  Here's tonight's writing...

Not Forever

They say it's life changing, a lottery win. I used to think that it was impossible, but no. Again, I was wrong, and it was just improbable.  I stopped buying my weekly ticket years ago.  Once a week was manageable, a tax on the blindly optimistic maybe, but just one pound every seven days was fine. Then they started with their Thunderballs and bi-weekly draws, Eurowhatsits and, well, it was all too much. I gave up, as is my way. But Georgie, well, he never did.

I gave up on lots of things, over the years. We've been through our ups and downs, more of the downs than the ups, it has to be said. In and out of bad jobs, just about scraping by. We were neither of us ever meant for anything bigger or better than we had.

For a long time, all that we did have was each other. When we were working, that seemed to take over our lives and "us" was just a hobby that we sometimes, rarely, got to partake of.  Georgie got lucky though, he always had the best of that. He got a job at the fruit machine factory that seemed almost secure. Long hours, not quite decent money, but for what it was, it was something. It was enough.

"It's not forever," he said.

He was always looking towards the future, always optimistic, always positive. But a part of me hoped that it was forever. I'd become used to us passing each other by, him heading out of the house as I arrived home. The more time that we spent together, the more I tired of him.

I had signed up to a temping agency, with high hopes of becoming a PA to some top executive. Instead all I got was filing, typing, and a slap on the arse from some suited prick. Not quite what I had dreamed of, but is life ever what anyone dreams it will be?

"It's not forever," Georgie said, when I told him about the sleazeball who called me into his office, and then had me sit there and do nothing, just so that he could leer at me.

"I hope not," I replied, but I didn't mean just that incident, I meant everything. I hoped that none of it would be forever, the way that my life was then. I wanted change.

And, of course, things do change.  I was in that company, paid for my time and not for my skills, wasting my hours and their measly money, for only a month. Holiday cover, that was all, and then I was moved on.  Looking back, things would have been very different if I had stayed. In the next organisation, there was no sleazy suitman, but there was Alex.

I was used to being treated as a temporary inconvenience, being looked down upon and walked over, but Alex, well, he was different. You can guess what happens with a woman, unhappy in her life, meets someone that finally shows her some respect, and gives her some attention.

I was ready to leave Georgie, to tell him that this life of long hours, passing in the hallway, always hoping that it wouldn't be forever, that it wasn't enough. I was ready to tell him that I wanted out, but then, the improbable happened. The numbers came up, and that life changing moment happened.

Georgie ran into the lounge, Friday night, when he was meant to be at work until the early hours of Saturday morning. He was laughing and crying and I couldn't even work out what he was trying to say at first. Then I saw it in his hand, he was waving that pink-red ticket, and I knew. I knew that he had been right all along.

"We've won," he said in a gasping heavy burst.

I scrunched my eyes up, trying to block it out, trying to wish him away, but the world shifted to slow motion. I knew what was coming next. I didn't have to think of what to say, or how to react because there, coming down the stairs was the life changing moment. Alex, half dressed, but still smart, sophisticated, solvent; everything that I had wanted.

Georgie's face changed in a flash. He had gone from being a man who had everything to a man who had come home from work to find his wife had been sleeping with her boss.

And all I could think of to say was,

"It's not forever."

Monday 3 September 2012

A book and a butterfly.

You can now buy my haiku book, "five seven five", from Amazon in a download or paperback (pamphlet) version.  There are one hundred haiku in the book, on various topics.

If you head over to the Amazon page, you can get a free preview of some of them. If you want to see more of my haiku and micropoetry, and are on twitter, you can find my outpourings at @thehaikugirl.

I haven't been to Holmfirth Writers Group for the past few weeks, due to life, and that, but was back tonight. Sarah, who you may recall is the proprietor of the wonderful blog over at Sarah Writes,  led the session, and we wrote about, well, all sorts of things.  The topic was getting inside someone else's head and seeing things from a different perspective. In particular, we focused upon mental health.

This is my thirty minutes' worth.

Butterfly

This is Kiera. She's three years old. We were at the park, when I took this photograph. Up and down the slide, climbing on the monkey bars, begging me to push her on the swing, again and again.

"No," I said. "No. Mummy's too tired, too big. The baby in Mummy's tummy makes mummy so, so tired. No. No swings."

And though her face, for the briefest of moments, showed disappointment, that was fleeting. It passed, and again she was off on her way, chasing after a butterfly. A red-yellow-black burst of summer.

These are the things that I remember.  The sunshine, the laughter, the way that I said "no". But how was I to know what would come next? Life changes in the flash of an instant, in the flutter of a butterfly's wings.

This is Sophie.  On the fifteenth of September it will be her fourth birthday. I see her now, sitting on the floor, in front of the television, drawing pictures of flowers, faces, spiraling circles again and again.

"Mummy, draw with me?" she asks.

And I am busy, I am working. I have invoices to send, emails to answer, and that important deadline ticking ever close. But I stop.

"Yes," I say. "Yes, Sophie. Of course."

And we sit on the rug, while Peppa Pig jumps up and down in muddy puddles behind us.

"Draw me a dinosaur. Draw me a dog. Draw me the World."

And I do. I do all of this. The clock ticks, the computer switches itself to the screensaver. The family photographs play out on the monitor in a looping cycle. The emails are ignored and the deadline is put off. Because what matters is Sophie.

On her piece of paper, Sophie has drawn us. Mummy, Daddy, Sophie and Kiera. Kiera has wings, like a butterfly.

Like an angel.

And that picture, well, you know, I want to take hold of Sophie and hug her and kiss her and never let go of her. Because life changes in the blink of an eye.  It can go from a girl chasing a butterfly to a girl disappearing. From laughter to tears to sobbing that you feel will never ever stop. To pain that you know will never end.

"Kiera's my angel, Mummy."

"Your big sister," I say, and it hits me.  Sophie is older now than the girl in the photograph. The last picture that I ever took of Kiera. Sophie is the big girl now.

As the years have gone by, I have gauged Sophie's progress against what I knew from Kiera. Sophie spoke sooner, Kiera walked sooner. But now - what? What did I know about being a mother of a four year old?

Only to never, never let her out of my sight.

On the fireplace are photographs. Mummy, Daddy and Kiera together. Smiling, happy, together. Then Sophie, Mummy and Daddy, but never Sophie and Kiera. Never. My two children will never meet.

"Read to me, Mummy," Sophie says, but I am looking at her drawing and I have to bury my face into her soft hair to hide my tears.

Tuesday 14 August 2012

five seven five

Apologies for the lack of blog updates over the past couple of weeks. I have been wrapped up in the excitement of the Olympics.  I am eagerly awaiting the Paralympics now, which for me are as important, if not more so, than the Olympics.  In terms of my own "sport" if I were paralysed, I would never have the strength of mind to have written "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly". Those who have faith in the power of their bodies and minds inspire me.

If you have read any of my twitter posts, you will know that I write micropoetry, and in particular haiku.  I have decided, after a prompt from one of my twitter friends, to collect my favourite haiku from the past year and publish them. Not that I have set aside my novel writing, I am still hard at work - if you can call the joy of writing that (yes, it is hard work sometimes) - on the new book too.

I will, of course, update you with where and when you can get a copy of the haiku book - working title "five seven five".


Saturday 28 July 2012

Poetry publication and a Goodreads giveaway.

Well, I meant to write last night, whilst watching the Olympics opening ceremony. Who could do anything other than watch though? It was an amazing spectacle.

Yesterday I received a letter from Forward Poetry to let me know that one of my poems is going to be featured in an anthology to be published later this year.  It's a collection of poems to celebrate the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, and my poem is called "Jubilee Memories". I do think of myself more of a prose than poetry writer, so it is always a great feeling to have my poetry appreciated too.

You may have noticed that there is now a box to the right of the screen there linking to a Goodreads giveaway.  I am giving away a free signed copy of Charcoal through the site, closing date August 25th.  All you have to do is be a Goodreads member and click on the link.

If  you aren't already on Goodreads and you like reading - or if you are an author - then I highly recommend it.

Of course, you can still buy an ebook or paperback version of Charcoal from Amazon by clicking here.
If you have already bought and enjoyed it, it would be great if you could leave a review, and also tell your friends about it.

Wednesday 25 July 2012

Interview with a Vamp...no, wait...with me!

If you are interested in finding out a bit more about the background behind "Charcoal", where my ideas come from, or even where I come from, then head on over to "Sarah Writes".

It is an excellent blog, and this week features an interview with me, and a chance to win a copy of the paperback version of my novel.


Apologies for the lack of Monday evening writing this week.  The group worked on writing synopses, which involved debate over the storyline of Snow White, and several versions of the tale. I'll share this poem with you instead...there's a sweary in there - sorry!

A Keeper

They said, "He's a Keeper"
Which meant, I think, to them,
With their well-meaning ways,
That I should try to be
More than my normal self -
Or at least less like 'me'.

Without the cloying edge,
The sticky lust for love.
Keep my thoughts well tucked up
And try not to fuck up (this time).

But I'm not "a Keeper"
Which means, I think, to them,
With over-bearing ways,
I must try more to be
Unlike my normal self -
And means, to me, I'm 'me'.

Wednesday 18 July 2012

FREE download - today only!

#FREE book! 

You can download Charcoal by J.E.Rowney from Amazon FREE today only! 

Love, lust and obsession...and what happens when it all goes wrong. 

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Charcoal-ebook/dp/B008FKBUJW

htttp://www.amazon.com/charcoal-ebook/dp/B008FKBUJW

Please Share!

Tuesday 17 July 2012

Routine

Last night's subject at Holmfirth Writers Group was the ordinary, everyday things. We put so much time and attention into capturing the spectacular, and the unusual, it was interesting to focus upon the minutiae of routine.

This was what I came up with in the thirty minute slot. It gave me lots of ideas for the future too though!




Routine

He sets the alarm for half past six.  Every morning, that blaring siren shocks her from sleep. She rolls, presses the off button and he goes back to his dreams, while she lies, bleary eyed, unnecessarily awake. She watches the shadows dance on the ceiling, imagining patterns, shapes, thinking of anything apart from the here and now.

At seven o'clock, she slides from beneath the duvet, opens the curtain. A crack at first, as if testing the day, dipping her toe before taking the plunge. But it's delaying the inevitable. There's no escaping it.

Glancing back to the bed, she sees him. One hairy buttock exposed, a leg poking out, the cover angled across him. She tries to stop the grimace that her thoughts cause to form, but she fails, and turns away.

Shower. Too hot. Always too hot. He changes the dial, raises the temperature, and every day she has to set it back. Make things normal again. She looks for the shampoo. Lid off. Standing on the floor. Why? Is it too much trouble to leave it somewhere reachable, somewhere convenient? Conditioner. Still here. He doesn't use it, doesn't touch it. A small victory. It is here; it is hers.

She towel dries her hair and puts on her robe. The one from the set. The "His and Hers". They look ridiculous - or they would if they ever wore them together. But their routine overlaps, mismatches, never quite concurs.

Back into the bedroom, he's lying on his back now. Snores echoing, naked, fully naked now. She looks away. It's twenty past seven.

Unseen, she dresses. The pink frillies underneath, black shift above. She pulls on the stockings, slips on the shoes, nods at her reflection and smiles. She sees his reflection behind her, and the smile snaps shut.

It's half past seven. She dries her hair downstairs, adding a handful of mousse, scrunching out her curls. Stands at the mirror in the living room, and applies her make-up, leaning over the framed photograph of him and her, four years ago. Her in a cream dress, him in a suit, smiling. Then it felt like truth. This thing that they were. It felt real, it felt permanent. Then, there was hope.

Now what was left? The day-to-day, passing each other, sharing a house. Dinners left in the oven for later. Plans left on the shelf for later. Hope lost somewhere along the way.

She keeps catching a glance of the photograph as she's reaching out with the mascara wand, stroking her eyelashes. She looked so much younger then. Or happier. It's eight o'clock.

She reaches out for the frame, picks it up, studies the two of them in their newly-wed stupor. And she almost, almost smiles, until she looks up and sees him there, reflected in the doorway. She puts the picture back and carries on with the routine.

Free Download Wednesday!

On Wednesday 18th July, the ebook version of my novel will be available as a FREE download from Amazon.

Remember that you don't have to own a Kindle to download and read it. You can get an app for the PC, iPad, iPhone, etc, which is just as effective.

The link is the same as the usual Amazon link to the book:


UK readers:  http://amazon.co.uk/Charcoal-ebook/dp/B008FKBUJW
USA readers: http://amazon.com/Charcoal-ebook/dp/B008FKBUJW

Please share this information widely! If you have read the book already, share with your friends!

Tuesday 10 July 2012

On Writing (Groups)

So, by now you know about my novel and where to buy it.

I have been working on my next book, which is an exploration of how we can set people upon a pedestal, and forget sometimes that they are, like us, only human.

An extract from "Charcoal" was read out on the local radio station over the weekend, as part of a presentation by Holmfirth Writers Group. Thanks to the powers of modern technology, you can use the "Listen Again" feature to hear it for yourself at:   http://www.twovalleysradio.co.uk/listenagain/

I am very grateful to Sarah Collie, another very talented writer, who read the extract for me, as I was unable to attend in person.  Sarah maintains an excellent blog at: http://spud09.blogspot.co.uk/

I joined Holmfirth Writers Group earlier this year, when I was "getting serious" about writing. The first ten percent of "Charcoal" took about two years to write, the remainder I wrote over the past six months. Knowing that I was not the only person sitting at a keyboard for hours on end - creating, deleting, frustrating, repeating, writing, writing, writing - that made all the difference. Other people were writing too - and I found them!

We meet weekly, write, read and share. And then we go to the pub for conversation and chips. It seems to be a long standing tradition!

I thought I would start to share my Monday night writing with you. It's spur of the moment, written in twenty minutes stuff, generated from a particular trigger from the week's "leader". Facilitator may be a better word.

Tonight, inspired by our recent weather, our topic was water.  I wrote this poem.

To The Sea


When the darkest days
Wrap their arms around me
Clawing, tearing, ripping deep.
When sense makes no sense.
I lose who I am.
I lose my purpose.
And doubt drags heavily.
When I am drained,
A shell, my tears spent,
A desert left inside of me.
Nothing else.
No trace of moisture left to spare -
Arid and incomplete.
Then, there is respite.
A rejuvination,
A rebalancing salination,
Provided only by the sea.
Then, the crashing waves
Echo my name back in their thunder,
Throwing themselves, tumbling.
Then, the immense tidal swell
Reminds me I am small
But strong in my stumbling.
The surf, a thousand tiny diamonds
Sparkling atop the deep emerald waves.
Priceless. Essential.
In the air, in the sound,
In the taste of salt on the wind,
I find who I am.
I find my purpose.

Wednesday 4 July 2012

Paperback format available now!

I am pleased to announce that "Charcoal" is now available for purchase in paperback format.


You can buy it from  Amazon.co.uk

or, if you are in the US, from Amazon.com


Please remember to return and leave a review once you have finished reading!

Friday 29 June 2012

Charcoal available NOW for download!

You can now purchase Charcoal for download from Amazon.

The print format will be available shortly, but if you want a preview, or if you prefer ebooks to paper, the Kindle version is on sale at:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Charcoal-ebook/dp/B008FKBUJW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1340963843&sr=8-1

There is a preview of the first few chapters available completely free of charge, and if you like it you can then download the whole book - or order the print copy next week!

You don't need a Kindle to read the ebook, as apps are available free of charge to allow you to read it on your PC, Mac or various smartphones and tablets.

So go ahead - try, and then buy!

Monday 18 June 2012

Positive feedback - always welcome!

CAKE magazine held a meetup at Nexus Art Cafe in Manchester last Saturday.  The cafe is one of their main distribution points for the print version of the publication.  The Fiction Stroker features a review of the event, along with praise for my short story. It's always lovely to receive feedback - especially when it is positive!

You can read the review here:  http://thefictionstroker.wordpress.com/2012/06/18/have-you-had-your-cake/


Friday 15 June 2012

A busy week, and a new short story published.

Well, I have spent most of my spare time reading "Charcoal", editing, reading again, making little changes here and there.  And I am pleased to say that I am on track to have the novel ready for publication by the end of the month, as planned.

Meanwhile, I submitted a short story to "Cake", a new Manchester-based publication. I am pleased to report they accepted my submission and have included in their June edition.

You can read it on their website at:
http://cakeshortandsweet.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/issue-2.pdf

If you are out and about in Manchester, look out for a print copy, as they distribute the publication at Portico Library, Nexus Art Cafe and the Tea Hive.

CAKE have a Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/cakeshortandsweet and a Twitter feed @cakeshortnsweet

In other news, depending on the weather, I may be venturing forth to Holmfirth Arts Festival over the weekend.  There is a "poetry busking" area, which sounds like an excellent outlet! 

Of course, there are lots of other events going on down there, so if you are anywhere nearby, then check out the website: http://www.holmfirthartsfestival.co.uk/

Thursday 7 June 2012

Charcoal Teaser...


"Jess is dead, and it's my fault."

Anna Macbeth  has spent her whole life trying to escape from her past.  She left the rural Yorkshire village where she grew up for life as a family lawyer in London, but what secrets did she take with her?

When a familiar voice telephones her with tragic news, Anna knows that running away is no longer an option, and that she has to return to face her demons.

What led Anna to flee from her home, and what is it that causes her to return?

"Charcoal" unfolds a dramatic sequence of events that demonstrate the consequences of desires fulfilled - and unfulfilled.

Saturday 2 June 2012

The proof of the story is in the telling...

Greetings, and welcome to my blog.

I am one of those people who has always been a writer, but has never - until now - written a book.

I have poems, stories and books full of notes that I have written dating back to my childhood.  Finally, I have had the time and the opportunity to write my debut novel.

My book, "Charcoal" is a romantic tragedy, about the consequences of desires fulfilled - and those left unfulfilled.

It will be published as a paperback and in ebook format for download towards the end of June, 2012.

You will be able to find me on my twitter account @jerowneywriter or on the Facebook page  http://www.facebook.com/jaynerowneywriter - and I will add more information to this blog very soon!