After the loss of NaNoWriMo, it did not take the Crowvus writers long to realise how much we relied on this structured routine for our writing. For me, November had become the only time I was guaranteed to do creative writing. In fact - if truth be told - I've done very little at any other point of the year. Consequently, we decided to adapt to our own interpretation: Cro(w)NoWriMo - the W is in brackets because there was some discrepancy over whether or not it should be in there. The rules were simple: Write. As November went on, the end goal changed slightly for each writer. Was it 50,000 words? Was it to write every day? Was it to write an entire book? For me, it was about finishing a book. I haven't finished an historical fiction book in ages - though I've started plenty! Now, with four more writing days left on the clock and into the final chapter, I might finally be able to lay the ghost. The story I returned to was Poisoned Pilgrimage , the book I began as a submiss...
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.” “...