I don't write many older characters. I suppose age - as with most things - is relative in fiction. When I began writing The Watcher's Heir (my will-be-finished-one-day high fantasy epic), I was still at school and my hero began the story aged 25, an age I could not imagine ever reaching but an age I thought would still be considered young by many. If I ever manage to finish and edit that story, I'll be extending his - and a few others' - age! Having grown older, I've realised the advantages and the benefits of age. Of course, it's a bit of a disappointment that I'm never asked for ID in the shop anymore, or that people assume I'm my younger sisters' mother(!). But, on the whole, the pros have far outweighed the cons. The biggest con in terms of writing, is that it's difficult not to put an old head on young shoulders. Looking through books - both my own and those written by other people - it is clear just how easy it is to slip into the "ol...
I've been talking a lot about my family saga this month, so here's a little excerpt from Beneath Black Clouds and White . Although I published this second, it comes first chronologically. I hope you enjoy it! Chapter Nine Persephone and Rosanna Fotherby wasted little time as Peters left him, but began walking in the direction of Mayfair. After arriving at the house of Sir Manfred Chester so late on the last two occasions he had been a house guest, he was determined to arrive at a civilised time. He reached the white fronted house in the late afternoon and paused at the steps, uncertain that he should presume to simply arrive there. He walked across the road, rebuking himself for his lack of etiquette. He still carried the card that Peters had given him and he wondered at what the address was. It was somewhere in Westminster, and he was on the point of returning into the city when he turned at the sound of his name. “Henry! You have come back to us. You must come in at once.” “...