I started writing my first book when I was still at school. It wasn't historical fiction, it was high fantasy, and it was the first of ten books, under the collective title The Watcher's Heir . I knew from the word go that it was going to have this number of books, although I didn't really work out exactly what would happen in each one. Twenty-five years on and the books are still not finished, although I now only have a couple more to go! Every Christmas I settle down and manage to write a chapter or two more, and every New Year it is my resolution to finish them. I suspect this will go on for a few years more. In the passage of time since then, I've written more than a dozen books. I can't quite pinpoint what it is which keeps obstructing the conclusion of these books. It could be that I am not the same person I was 25 years ago (who is?!), and so the voice which began the books is almost unrecognisable. It could be that I have now passed the age almost all of my ...
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.” “...