The Bronte Parsonage – My (very) Small Part in Wuthering Heights

I had the most fabulous time at the Bronte Parsonage recently in beautiful Keighley which you can read about and see the photos here.

During my visit I got the chance to take part in something very special. Artist Clare Twomey is inviting visitors to participate in recreating the manuscript of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, as the original manuscript has never been located. At certain times of the day visitors are invited to copy one line from the novel, using a Wuthering Heights pencil (they get to keep) whilst sitting in Emily’s former home.

There was a great sense of occasion in Mr Nicholls’ Study (Charlotte Bronte’s husband) as we waited patiently for our turn. A sense of camaraderie as we discussed, as we queued, what the Bronte novels had meant to us. It was a real coming together of strangers, bonding over a love of literature.

The completed book will be exhibited at the Bronte Parsonage during 2018 to celebrate the bicentenary of Emily Bronte’s birth. The recreation is to honour Emily’s achievement and celebrates her contribution to English Literature through the act of writing.

The whole visit was such an emotional experience – I can’t wait to visit again.

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My visit to the Bronte Parsonage (aka my husband was right…)

I was overcome with a sense of awe as I stepped into the Bronte Parsonage for the very first time. My husband had sensibly ambled off the nearest coffee shop in search of scones as he thought I’d be hours. ‘It’s not that big, I won’t be long,’ I’d replied. But he was right. I was hours.

There was such a sense of history seeped into the rooms of this house that still feels very much a home with its rich and warm atmosphere. Here lived the writers whose books I had grown up reading, who moved me with their words, who made me fall in love with their characters, whose stories I felt a sense of loss from when I’d finished. The Bronte family came to live at Haworth Parsonage in 1820 when Patrick Bronte was appointed Perpetual Curate of Haworth Church. Tragically Mrs Bronte and the two elder children, Maria and Elizabeth, died within five years.

First off is Mr Bronte’s study. The children had their lessons here and the cabinet piano was played by Emily and Anne. Much of the furniture and possessions in the parsonage did belong to the Brontes and it has been decorated as closely to the original as it can be. In each room are costumes from the BBC ‘To Walk Invisible’ biopic, which, if you haven’t seen I’d highly recommend.

 

In the dining room is the table Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights were written at. Visitors aren’t allowed to touch it (oh how I longed to) but it was stained with ink blots and there’s a small letter ‘e’ carved into its surface. I could almost picture the siblings gathered around the table bouncing around plot ideas.

Mr Nicholas Study – Charlotte converted this room into a study for her husband-to-be in 1854.

 

Kitchen – I believe this is the only room that was structurally altered after the Brontes no longer lived here.

Each evening at 9 Mr Bronte would lock the front door and on his way to bed he’d wind up this Grandfather Clock

Children’s Room – this was a study for the children while they were young and it was here the siblings wrote their early stories and poems.

Father’s Room – It was in this room that Branwell died in 1848.

Branwell’s Room – full of chaos and pieces of writing.

Upstairs, there is an exhibition with displays of manuscripts, first editions and lots of information boards to read. Including letters from Charlotte, firstly submitting her manuscript after 6 rejections “I beg to submit to your consideration the accompanying Manuscript” and later, to her publisher “hoping the public may think pretty well” of Jane Eyre and, later writing “we did not like to declare ourselves women, because we had a vague impression that authoresses were liable to be looked on with prejudice”.

I had such a lovely time and learned such a lot I was loath to leave but on my way out I spotted the children’s craft table and although I didn’t have my kids with me the staff kindly let me join them and I spent a happy half hour making these spoon people who now sit on the shelf above my desk watching (judging) me as I write more books of my own.

I also got the chance to do something really cool while I was at the parsonage, yes even cooler than spoon people, but I’ll share that in another blog very soon.

 

Fear of Public Speaking, Hypnosis & Me #AnxietySlayer

I’ve always had a huge phobia of public speaking and have previously blogged tips from Graeme Cumming, an author and member of a Speaker’s Club (you can read that post here) but despite the excellent advice I still never felt brave enough to try.

Last week I wrote the post I never thought I would. I spoke at my first literary festival – Althorp no less, hurrah – and you can read that post and see the photos here. Prior to taking the plunge I had a course of three hypnotherapy appointments with the fabulous Carmen Wilson of Inspired to Change and although I still had a degree of nerves afterwards, it was I think, a normal amount of nerves. Before I’d have been a sobbing mess rocking in the corner, and when I cry it isn’t movie crying, with a single tear streaking down a perfectly made up cheek, there’d have been streaming snot, a blotchy face, the works.

I am absolutely delighted Carmen has joined me over on my YouTube channel for a ten minute chat about why so many of us have fears, and how hypnotherapy works, and we both share our tips for speaking at events if you’re not in a position to have a course of treatment.

You can view the conversation here.

There’s lots of fabulous content coming up on my YouTube channel so if you’re interested in writing tips and hearing from authors, editors, publishers and agents please do subscribe here.

Until next time.

Louise x

 

 

One terrified writer, one HUGE literary festival, one big mistake?

 

Over the past year I’ve been asked to speak at several events, some big, some small, but all have one thing in common – I’ve said no. I think I can pinpoint exactly when and why my phobia of public speaking started, but knowing that, understanding that, hasn’t made it any easier to cope with. On the occasions I’ve tried, I’ve ended up in such a state I’ve not been able to sleep or eat in the weeks preceding and have been physically sick and unable to talk on the day. Shaking, dry mouth, fainting, you name it, I’ve suffered with it.

Althorp Literary Festival is in its 14th year and when an email dropped into my inbox I assumed it was asking me to buy tickets as I’ve attended most years as a guest. Instead, it was an invitation to take part in a panel event. I felt equally honoured and disappointed. There’s no way I could possibly take part, or could I?

Unusually, I didn’t rattle off a polite ‘thanks, but no thanks’ straight away. Althorp is a very dear place to me. I grew up 10 minutes down the road and have many happy childhood memories of our Sunday afternoon drives through the beautiful grounds after a roast lunch, my parents in the front of the car, me playing eye-spy in the back with my sister, ending with tea and cake and the more I let the memory cover me like a blanket, the more it grew – the urge to say yes. My fingers hovered over the keyboard before I quickly punched out an acceptance. And then I cried. And then I set about finding a solution, painfully aware I wouldn’t just be representing myself but also the festival, both my publishers and my agent. No pressure then. My google research resulted in me booking a course of hypnotherapy. I genuinely enjoyed every second of my talk and I’ve since signed up for various events and I honestly can’t wait. Next week I’ll be interviewing my hypnotherapist, Carmen, and she’ll share her thoughts on why public speaking is such a common phobia and give her tips on giving a great performance and I’ll be talking about the things that worked for me.

Today though I want to share my memories of what was an amazing weekend.

On arrival I was escorted to the Green Room, the library. The sight of all those books was instantly calming, admittedly so was the sight of the gin…

It felt so surreal at first and I had to remind myself to focus and pay attention to the other panellists as initially I was sitting there thinking ‘I’m on a stage at Althorp! How did this possibly happen to me?’

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There were books everywhere and at my first official signing I had a touch of anxiety I’d scratch the beautiful desk. I didn’t, and chatting to readers was one of the highlights of my weekend.

Umm there’s always one, lowering the tone, photographing the food. That would be me…

The grounds are absolutely stunning.

And no festival would be complete without a champagne bus. thankfully the sun shone and it became open top. 

I met some amazing people, caught up with old friends and made some new, and whether I’m invited back as a speaker or not, I can’t wait for next year’s event.

Huge thanks to everyone involved in putting together such an amazing festival and leaving me with memories I shall always treasure.

 

Why I couldn’t shrug off being trolled.

 

Last Wednesday my third novel The Surrogate was published. The early reviews have been phenomenal, it’s racing up the charts, has been chosen for a special promotion, and after a busy few days I was so very looking forward to spending publication weekend celebrating.

Friday evening, I opened a bottle of wine, settled down to catch up with social media while waiting for a curry to arrive. There was a FB notification for my personal page, a name I didn’t recognise. The post was nasty, vindictive, written to hurt, and it did. Although, to a degree I know it’s inevitable negative reviews will appear on Goodreads and Amazon, this felt as though someone had stepped into my lounge almost and insulted me. My personal space.

Trying to shrug it off I deleted the post, blocked the poster and vowed to tighten my privacy settings hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t.

This ‘lady’ in question was a member of numerous reading groups and set out with a vengeance to insult me and my book at every opportunity and online there are LOTS of opportunities.

After a restless sleep I woke Saturday, hoping that by now she’d be bored. She wasn’t. For the whole day post after post appeared. I choose not to comment on any of them which was incredibly difficult as she was now insulting my friends, my publishers, reviewers. Hackles were rising. Responses were made and although I was grateful people were defending me, she now had an audience and boy did she make the most of it.

By Saturday afternoon I was in pieces. Those of you who know me or follow my blog know I started writing as a way to boost my mental health after becoming disabled in my 30’s resulted in clinical depression, and have noticed a gradual increase in my confidence this past year. Finally, settling into my new career, admitting I’m a writer when meeting new people was a huge step. A complete stranger sharing her opinion – however widely – I have zero talent, will never make it as an author, shouldn’t have shattered my already fragile self-esteem but it did. And I felt hugely saddened when she accused me of paying book bloggers for reviews – the bloggers I know all review with honesty and integrity and even if they don’t like a book they are always constructive and kind. I felt terrible for everyone involved, anguishing over what I’d done to upset this woman, convinced that somehow it must be all my fault.

Message after message appeared in my inbox. Readers, writers, bloggers, complete strangers, watching it all unfold, offering their support and those messages combined to make a huge roaring cheer which should have drowned out that one, negative voice, and yet it didn’t.

Remembering my mindfulness practice I spent long periods meditating, accepting my reaction was natural. Scientific studies have shown we all have a negativity bias. Automatically the brain has a greater sensitivity towards the negative, a trait which used to be super helpful in our caveman days. Spotting and responding to the unpleasant, the dangerous, running from those dinosaurs, keeping ourselves out of harms way. Today, the bias is not needed quite so much but evolution has seen it remain, to varying degrees, and as a result things more negative in nature have a greater effect on a person’s psychological state and cognition than positive things.

Sunday I felt calmer but I still felt a rush of relief when I was told she’d been banned from various groups but it was hard not to spend the day anxiously waiting and when a blogger on my tour shared her post in one of the lovely reading groups I belong to I actually felt my stomach twist, waiting for her to pop up again.

My son told me I’ve been trolled. That word to me conjures fond memories. Small children curled on my lap. Goats trip-trapping over a bridge, the comical creature who lived underneath. This felt anything but comical.

Today I’ve woken feeling hugely grateful. I’ve reread the messages of support, my positive reviews and that roaring cheer is now the thing I can hear the loudest.

I’m sat at my desk determined to write some words. After all I am a writer and despite my trepidation at publishing this post, I’m not going to let anyone tell me I’m not.

The Surrogate is currently part of a limited time ebook promotion and is available for £0.99/$1.31 on Amazon, iBooks  Kobo, Google and all digital platforms. You can find it on Amazon here

 

 

 

 

Blogger & author shenanigans- it’s more than just drinking


Yesterday, I bid my husband goodbye & jumped on a train to Birmingham for a day of drinking hanging out with bookish peeps. Writing is absolutely my dream job. I wouldn’t change it for the world but sometimes even dreams can have cracks in them and I admit that going from a hustle-bustle-busy working environment, to spending long days talking to creating characters, can feel a tad isolating at times. 


It was fabulous to catch up with old friends and have the chance to make some new ones. The book bloggers I haven’t met before, but feel I already know, were just as warm in person as they are online. I’m now even more excited about The Surrogate Blog Tour next week (and receiving my toad in the hole recipe from Joanne Robertson!


For me, the chance to grill other writers about their approach to novel writing is invaluable and after a long conversation with the lovely Barbara Copperthwaite, I came away feeling much better about something that had been troubling me about my own approach to writing a first draft, which had felt quite slap-dash. Slowly, and largely due to events like these, I’m realising we all have our own way of doing things. There is no right and wrong.

It was wonderful to hear the news that several I’d met last year had finished their novels, some  were submitting and there were 2 book deals to celebrate. Each and every writerly success I hear of gives me a warm fuzzy feeling that had nothing to do with the wine. There can never be too many books.

On the journey home, I was exhausted but happy. Feeling incredibly grateful to be a part of such a friendly and supportive community. 


Huge thanks to Kim Nash & Holly Martin for organising the event.

Slipping back – An excerpt from The Surrogate – #flashfiction

Image courtesy of Sarah Potter

The moon is hiding behind the rain clouds, and everywhere I look is black. Crushing. The horn blares again blasting cobwebs from my dusty memories and I think of the other time I was in a car with the dark and the rain. Suddenly I am terrified.

I’m arced over the wheel now, hyperventilating. Panic tearing my chest in two. I haven’t felt like this for years. It’s all starting again. Just like I always knew it would.

Lisa is back in my life and I am slipping into the past.

The good. The bad.

All of it.

 

I was delighted when I saw this week’s cobwebby prompt as if fits perfectly with an excerpt from my forthcoming book The Surrogate which will be published next week! I’m ridiculously excited. Early reviews have been fabulous. If you want to, you can find it over on Amazon here

Friday Fictioneer’s is a weekly photo prompt posted by Rochelle. Can you write a 100 words flash fiction story? Join in here – it’s great fun.