The perfect publication day raising money for Parkinson’s

Every hour someone is diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. In the UK alone one in five hundred people are living with this condition which causes progressive physical and neurological symptoms.

Yesterday was the publication day for my fourth psychological thriller, The Date, and rather than have a typical launch, celebrating with family and friends, my sister Karen and I headed to London on a mission to raise money for our local branch of Parkinson’s.

Laura Devine Solicitors hosted the event which they meticulously planned. Thanks to the gorgeous weather we were able to drift out onto the roof terrace while caterers plied guests with champagne and canapés.

Listening to Karen make a candid, heartfelt speech about the affect Parkinson’s has had on our family, her more than anyone, was one of the proudest moments of my life. I had to swallow the lump that had risen in my throat before I could take part in a Q & A with my agent Rory Scarfe who is also a great supporter of Parkinson’s UK.

My publishers, Sphere (Little, Brown) kindly donated paperbacks which were raffled and the total by the time we had to dash for our train was £500.

Everyone’s generosity was hugely appreciated and I can’t thank everyone enough who organised such a fabulous event, attended and donated.

Parkinson’s UK is part of a global community ensuring the millions of people living with Parkinson’s across the world don’t have to face it alone. You can find out more about the fabulous work they do here.

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Publication day & why I feel so vulnerable

 

Today is publication day for my fourth psychological thriller, The Date and although early reviewers are unanimously calling it my best book yet, my emotions are mixed; excitement and nerves. Fear and hope. This is the story I never thought I’d finished after several false starts. My main character, Ali, suffers from Face Blindness and it took me a long time to really get to grips with the emotions she feels after acquiring this condition in her 30’s.  I first heard of Prospagnosia through a BBC documentary featuring Hannah Read who suffers from the most extreme case in the UK. (You can read about that in a previous blog here). I often approach difficult subjects when I write and it’s so important to me to remain sensitive and empathetic. A book may predominately be entertainment but real people are living very real lives within the subjects I write about and I want to remain respectful of that at all times. This is the time I feel most vulnerable. Of course it’s inevitable that not everyone will love a book, but I never want anyone to think I’ve taken the emotional side of my story lightly.

Three years of trying to get Ali right, and much research later the book is today in the hands of readers who I hope will enjoy the story and perhaps learn a little about a condition that is far more common than you’d think.

Order The Date from Amazon, iBooks, Kobo and Google.

If you want to hear directly from Hannah about what it’s like to live with Face Blindness and the challenges she faces, check out our short YouTube interview here.

In the meantime, here’s the blurb: –

One night can change everything. 

‘I know it as soon as I wake up and open my eyes… Something is wrong.’

Her Saturday night started normally. Recently separated from her husband, Ali has been persuaded by her friends to go on a date with a new man. She is ready, she is nervous, she is excited. She is about to take a step into her new future. By Sunday morning, Ali’s life is unrecognisable. She wakes, and she knows that something is wrong. She is home, she is alone, she is hurt and she has no memory of what happened to her.  

Worse still, when she looks in the mirror, Ali doesn’t recognise the face staring back at her…

 

Love your libraries – authors campaign against closures #amreading

I’ve banded together with other local authors to voice our distress at the planned closure of potentially 21 libraries in our county. The letter (featured below) has featured in this evening’s paper ((you can read the full article here) and the fabulous Sue Bentley spoke out at the recent meeting discussing these cuts. Support Option 4 here – Save our Libraries. Every voice counts. 

 

To Northants County Council

Re: The proposed closures of Northamptonshire libraries

We are all authors who live in Northamptonshire. We decided to get together and write to you with our thoughts about the proposed cuts to the library service in our county.

We all oppose any cuts to the service. We grew up using libraries. The free access to books was pivotal in our formative years and we collectively believe it was instrumental in our careers – the love of the written word, formed in our childhoods, shaped us as people and as the writers we all went on to become. Some of us are from impoverished backgrounds: Louise Walters remembers using the mobile library when it visited her remote Northamptonshire village. Louise rarely bought books, and those she did buy were usually from jumble sales, so the library was essential. Rhian Ivory grew up in a village in Wales, too small for a library, so she and her family relied on the mobile library service, and it was a positive and unique experience. As author Sue Moorcroft points out, we should never take it for granted that people are able to buy books, even second hand. In this era of “austerity” any book purchases are out of the question for many. The library is for some their ONLY way of accessing books.

From a wider perspective, times have changed, and these days libraries are much more than shelves of books. They have become a vital hub in their communities. From the Sure Start centres, to IT training, to rhyme time, to reading groups, to information about all kinds of services – our Northamptonshire communities benefit in so many ways from having in their midst functioning, local authority run libraries. As Jane Isaac points out, libraries bring people together, and that is particularly important in remote areas where bus services have been cut or are non-existent. Mark West asks, what happens to the kid who has to do his homework online (because that’s how the teacher has set it) and yet has no access to the internet at home? What about the person who needs to fill in an online application form in the same circumstance? What about older people, perhaps afraid or unsure of modern
technology, who want to keep up with their families online?

Those of us with children all cite the library as a welcome resource, somewhere to take the children, to meet other parents, and to tap into services such as the Sure Start centres. Louise Jensen says that going to the library with her sons was often the only time she got to interact with other adults and meet other parents. The educational opportunities found in a library are valuable, and adults and children alike use libraries not only for entertainment, but also for research and discovery, and for help with projects and homework. Louise Walters home educates her children and the local library is an essential resource for home educators, who have no access to school libraries.

We as a group cannot support any of the three “options” proffered by the Council. They all involve the closure of at least twenty-one small libraries and the withdrawal of the mobile library. As Sue Bentley says, public libraries are a vital part of our cultural heritage, a rich resource for everyone. They are also, of course, that rare and precious thing – a public space where people can spend time without the expectation of also spending money. The closure of its library would be a severe blow to any community, impoverishing the whole area in so many ways.

We therefore support “Option 4”, which is to keep all of Northamptonshire’s existing libraries fully operational and fully funded, and all to remain the responsibility of the Council.

Yours sincerely,

Sue Bentleyhttp://www.suebentley.co.uk: Sue Bentley is Northampton born and bred. She is the worldwide best-selling author of over 70 books for children, YA and adults.

Jane Isaachttp://www.janeisaac.co.uk: Bestselling author of the DI Will Jackman series.

Rhian Ivoryhttps://twitter.com/Rhian_Ivory: Carnegie nominated author of The Boy who Drew the Future, bestselling YA novel, Hope and regular user of Towcester library and lifelong supporter of libraries.

Louise Jensenhttp://www.louisejensen.co.uk: International No. 1 bestselling author of psychological thrillers The Sister, The Gift and The Surrogate. Lover of libraries.

Sue Moorcrofthttp://www.suemoorcroft.com: Sunday Times and UK Kindle bestselling author; published by HarperCollins and major publishers around the world. Supporter of libraries.

Louise Waltershttp://www.louisewaltersbooks.co.uk: Author of Mrs Sinclair’s Suitcase, published in 15 languages. Independent publisher. Regular user of the mobile, Brackley and Middleton Cheney libraries.

Mark West –www.markwest.org.uk: Award-nominated horror and thriller writer. Lifelong supporter of the library.

Novel writing – creating that hook – Author Live Chat

 

On Sunday at 8pm GMT I’ll be over on Facebook doing an Author’s Live Chat for The Fiction Cafe. I’ll be discussing the importance of beginnings and creating that hook when you write. In preparation, I’m sharing the opening of my latest psychological thriller, The Surrogate, today.

Whether you are a writer, or a reader, do come over and join us. It will be lots of fun and I’ll also be giving away signed books.

Later

There is a rising sense of panic; horror hanging in the air like smoke.

‘They’re such a lovely couple. Do you think they’re okay?’ says the woman, but the flurry of emergency service vehicles crammed into the quiet cul-de-sac, the blue and white crime scene tape stretched around the perimeter of the property, indicate things are anything but okay. She wraps her arms around herself as though she is cold, despite this being the warmest May on record for years. Cherry blossom twirls around her ankles like confetti, but there will be no happily ever after for the occupants of this house, the sense of tragedy already seeping into its red bricks.

Her voice shakes as she speaks into the microphone. It is difficult to hear her over the thrum of an engine, the slamming of van doors as a rival news crew clatters a camera into its tripod. He thrusts the microphone closer to her mouth. She hooks her red hair behind her ears; raises her head. Her eyes are bright with tears. TV gold.

‘You don’t expect anything bad… Not here. This is a nice area.’

Disdain slides across the reporter’s face before he rearranges his features into the perfect blend of sympathy and shock. He hadn’t spent three years having drama lessons for nothing.

He tugs the knot in his tie to loosen it a little as he waits for the woman to finish noisily blowing her nose. The heat is insufferable; shadows long under the blazing sun. Body odour exudes from his armpits, fighting against the sweet scent of the freshly cut grass. The smell is cloying, sticking in the back of his throat. He can’t wait to get home and have an ice-cold lager. Put on his shorts like the postman sitting on the edge of the kerb, his head between his knees. He wonders if he is the one who found them. There will be plenty of angry people waiting for their post today. ‘Late Letter Shock!’ is the sort of inane local story he usually gets to cover, but this… this could go national. His big break. He couldn’t get here fast enough when his boss called to say what he thought he’d heard on the police scanner.

He shields his eyes against the sun with one hand as he scouts the area. Across the road, a woman rests against her doorframe, toddler in her arms. He can’t quite read her expression and wonders why she doesn’t come closer like the rest of them. At the edge of the garden, as close as the police will allow, a small crowd is huddled together: friends and neighbours, he expects. The sight of their shocked faces is such a contrast to the neat borders nursing orange marigolds and lilac pansies. He thinks this juxtaposition would make a great shot. The joy of spring tempered by tragedy. New life highlighting the rawness of loss of life. God, he’s good; he really should be an anchor.

There is movement behind him, and he signals to the cameraman to turn around. The camera pans down the path towards the open front door. It’s flanked by an officer standing to attention in front of a silver pot containing a miniature tree. On the step are specks of what looks like blood. His heart lifts at the sight of it. Whatever has happened here is big. Career defining.

Coming out of the house are two sombre paramedics pushing empty trolleys, wheels crunching in the gravel.

The woman beside him clutches his arm, her fingertips pressed hard against his suit jacket. Silly cow will wrinkle the fabric. He fights the urge to shake her free; instead, swallowing down his agitation. He might need to interview her again later.

‘Does this mean they’re okay?’ asks the woman, confusion lining her face.

The trolleys are clattered into the back of the waiting ambulance. The doors slam shut, the blue lights stop flashing and slowly it pulls away.

From behind the immaculately trimmed hedge, hidden from view, he hears the crackle of a walkie-talkie. A low voice. Words drift lazily towards him, along with the buzz of bumblebees and the stifled sound of sobbing.

‘Two bodies. It’s a murder enquiry.’

 

You can find The Surrogate on Amazon here and The Fiction Cafe on Facebook here. See you on Sunday!

 

15 minutes – #flashfiction

Image courtesy of J Hardy Carroll

 

 

The camera flashes are as dazzling as my smile. Angling my body, I suck in my stomach. All I ever wanted was to be famous.

‘Silly cow.’ You slammed your fist into my face. ‘Ain’t nobody never gonna wanna look at you.’

But you were wrong, weren’t you?

‘How are you going to plead?’ I am asked again. Already the papers are calling me Sleeping Beauty. I’d stabbed you while sleepwalking – allegedly anyhow. Now everyone knows my name. My solicitor says he’ll line up talk shows once I’m acquitted.

I push out my chest as I’m led into the court. It’s my time to shine.

 

I am ridiculously excited that tomorrow is paperback publication day for The Gift in the UK! I can’t wait to visit the bookshops & supermarkets & see my second psychological thriller on a shelf. Tesco have an exclusive edition with a short story in I’ve written especially for their customers. Don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight!

’15 minutes’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge inspired by a photo prompt. Hop over to host Rochelle’s blog to join in. 

Excerpt – The opening of The Surrogate & my thoughts on THAT end!

My third novel, The Surrogate, was published a few days ago and I wanted to share the opening with you. I had such a fabulous time writing this book. The story of Kat and Lisa was definitely one where I thought I knew where it was going, but the characters grew darker, the plot more complex and the twists and turns gather pace until the end hit me like a sledgehammer. I never saw it coming and once it was written, it was great fun to go back and plant the clues for readers, although judging from the over 100 five star reviews it’s already amassed no-one has yet predicted the ending either (BIG thanks to all who have reviewed). It’s the most intricate story I’ve written, everyone in this book has a secret. The e-book has now been selected as part of a special promotion so you can grab it for £0.99/$1.30 across all digital platforms. You can find it on Amazon here.

 

Later

There is a rising sense of panic; horror hanging in the air like smoke.

‘They’re such a lovely couple. Do you think they’re okay?’ says the woman, but the flurry of emergency service vehicles crammed into the quiet cul-de-sac, the blue and white crime scene tape stretched around the perimeter of the property, indicate things are anything but okay. She wraps her arms around herself as though she is cold, despite this being the warmest May on record for years. Cherry blossom twirls around her ankles like confetti, but there will be no happily ever after for the occupants of this house, the sense of tragedy already seeping into its red bricks.

Her voice shakes as she speaks into the microphone. It is difficult to hear her over the thrum of an engine, the slamming of van doors as a rival news crew clatters a camera into its tripod. He thrusts the microphone closer to her mouth. She hooks her red hair behind her ears; raises her head. Her eyes are bright with tears. TV gold.

‘You don’t expect anything bad… Not here. This is a nice area.’

Disdain slides across the reporter’s face before he rearranges his features into the perfect blend of sympathy and shock. He hadn’t spent three years having drama lessons for nothing.

He tugs the knot in his tie to loosen it a little as he waits for the woman to finish noisily blowing her nose. The heat is insufferable; shadows long under the blazing sun. Body odour exudes from his armpits, fighting against the sweet scent of the freshly cut grass. The smell is cloying, sticking in the back of his throat. He can’t wait to get home and have an ice-cold lager. Put on his shorts like the postman sitting on the edge of the kerb, his head between his knees. He wonders if he is the one who found them. There will be plenty of angry people waiting for their post today. ‘Late Letter Shock!’ is the sort of inane local story he usually gets to cover, but this… this could go national. His big break. He couldn’t get here fast enough when his boss called to say what he thought he’d heard on the police scanner.

He shields his eyes against the sun with one hand as he scouts the area. Across the road, a woman rests against her doorframe, toddler in her arms. He can’t quite read her expression and wonders why she doesn’t come closer like the rest of them. At the edge of the garden, as close as the police will allow, a small crowd is huddled together: friends and neighbours, he expects. The sight of their shocked faces is such a contrast to the neat borders nursing orange marigolds and lilac pansies. He thinks this juxtaposition would make a great shot. The joy of spring tempered by tragedy. New life highlighting the rawness of loss of life. God, he’s good; he really should be an anchor.

There is movement behind him, and he signals to the cameraman to turn around. The camera pans down the path towards the open front door. It’s flanked by an officer standing to attention in front of a silver pot containing a miniature tree. On the step are specks of what looks like blood. His heart lifts at the sight of it. Whatever has happened here is big. Career defining.

Coming out of the house are two sombre paramedics pushing empty trolleys, wheels crunching in the gravel.

The woman beside him clutches his arm, her fingertips pressed hard against his suit jacket. Silly cow will wrinkle the fabric. He fights the urge to shake her free; instead, swallowing down his agitation. He might need to interview her again later.

‘Does this mean they’re okay?’ asks the woman, confusion lining her face.

The trolleys are clattered into the back of the waiting ambulance. The doors slam shut, the blue lights stop flashing and slowly it pulls away.

From behind the immaculately trimmed hedge, hidden from view, he hears the crackle of a walkie-talkie. A low voice. Words drift lazily towards him, along with the buzz of bumblebees and the stifled sound of sobbing.

‘Two bodies. It’s a murder enquiry.’

I wrote this opening genuinely thinking I knew who the bodies would be, and why but as the characters developed and took over the story I found it almost out of my hands. The reveal shocked me and just when I thought I’d finished writing the final twists come in the Epilogue. I felt so drained after writing this book. I hope as well as being entertaining, I’ve also sensitively handled the emotional side of a couple longing for a child. I do hope it’s a thriller with a real heart.

Here’s the blurb:

‘You know that feeling? When you want something so badly, you almost feel you’d kill for it?’

Be careful what you wish for…

Kat and her husband Nick have tried everything to become parents. All they want is a child to love but they are beginning to lose hope. Then a chance encounter with Kat’s childhood friend Lisa gives them one last chance.

Kat and Lisa were once as close as sisters. The secrets they share mean their trust is for life… Or is it?

Just when the couple’s dream seems within reach, Kat begins to suspect she’s being watched and Nick is telling her lies.

Are the cracks appearing in Kat’s perfect picture of the future all in her head, or should she be scared for the lives of herself and her family?

How far would you go, to protect everything you love?

From the no. 1 bestselling author of The Sister and The Gift, this is an unputdownable psychological thriller which asks how far we will go to create our perfect family.

Buy it now for £0.99/$1.30 across all digital platforms, including Amazon here.

Square Graphic - The Surrogate - 10

 

 

A day in the life of…debut author Nicola Cassidy & COVER REVEAL

This is such an exciting time for Nicola Cassidy. I remember the huge excitement blended with nerves as I prepared to release my debut. One of the things I was hugely looking forward to was seeing my first cover and I know Nicola felt the same – look how gorgeous her cover is! She’s understandably thrilled.

 

So, Nicola. It’s such a busy time for you. Please tell us about a typical day.

I’m not sure when my day begins. Is it at 7.30am when the eldest appears, hovering at the bedside, pawing at my head or arm, requesting ‘juice’ at intermittent pitch levels until I waken and acknowledge her and tell her to shush or she’ll waken the baby? Or is it at the 3am feed? For the six-month-old? She comes into the bed, snuffling and mooching, ready for milk, animalistic and hungry – my favourite form of her – her at her most basic, needing me the most.

The 3am feed, could be 4am or another one at 5.30am. There are no long stretches of sleep. I’m not even programmed to take them, should they, in a night of miracles, appear. I’ve never been a good sleeper. Everything wakes me. Mostly worries – stresses that loom in the dark, rendering me wide eyed and tired, tossing and turning, willing sleep to cover the gaping problem that stretches across my mind. Always worse, in the dark, in the pre-dawn.

Writing, is probably, a form of therapy. I could always write. It was just there. It was picked up quickly, by my teachers, by my parents – who encouraged it. I had pen pals, I had letters and stories printed, I was a mini journalist before I even knew a journalist was.

It took a time to craft it in such a way that it fit into my life. Properly. Space made. Time given. Using those lofty words about myself – writer. And now, author.

My days are dictated by the structure of our small village, creative lives. My husband is a musician and producer and works late hours. I need to let him sleep, in the mornings, which means getting up with the children, no matter how many times I’ve been up in the night. Currently I’m on maternity leave, so I feel obliged to be with the children, all of my time.

Soon, I’ll return to work, three days a week at an electrical engineering consultancy, and I fear the tiredness that can be covered with cups of tea among the squalor at home, will descend into exhaustion at work. But I’m energised by people. I like the routine. I like having to be presentable, engaging, and my work as a marketing manager, teaches me many skills that I put to use in my promotional work as an author and in my hobby, as a lifestyle and parenting blogger at http://www.LadyNicci.com

I hope returning to work will put a routine on the chaos that is being a stay at home Mum. I might find it easier to write. I work better when my time is limited and structured. I am strict – if I have an hour to write, I will take it, regardless of what else needs to be done.

I have learned to write anywhere. It used to be only at my desk, which I installed in our spare room and set up in an Ikea inspired brochure quality weekend. Now I prefer my bed, beside the sleeping baby, cosy and settled, tapping away on my purple laptop, a gift from my husband who has always believed in my writing. In me. In my success.

On the days at home, there are thousands of jobs to be done. I don’t make a good housewife. I would love to live in a showhouse, but I seem to be missing the part that can make that happen. I envy homes I go into where everything is in place, organised, candlelit. I’m learning though. I’ve started using a launderette and soon, we’re hoping to hire a cleaner. I need to give the time to writing – to understand that my time will be better spent, producing words and editing than scrubbing the floors or the bathroom again.

On my days with the children, we might visit a playground, or family, or meet with friends, or go to town, shopping. Carting two small children around is no easy feat. Some days it takes two hours to load us all into the car, fed, washed and dressed. But I always feel better getting out. They get bored at home.

In the evenings I cook a family meal. I thank Slimming World for teaching my how to cook. I’m trying to be strict, to rediscover the figure I once had. But two babies in three years and a penchant for wine, crisps and all things chocolate usually lay waste to my skinny plans.

I’m thinking about the book launch. About the photos. About how I want to look my best. I plan on having a big party – an event to mark my dreams coming true. We had a huge white wedding, but I was overwhelmed – I couldn’t enjoy the day. This is my second chance. At celebrating. At marking what is a significant time in my life. I’ve wanted to publish a book since I was a child.

Late evening, if we manage to get the baby settled, we will watch a programme we are currently following. We like gripping TV dramas, House of Cards, Mr Robot, Game of Thrones – anything with a good script. I will watch fantasy, but I don’t read it. I like literary fiction, particularly if it’s set in the past. It inspires me – I hope to one day achieve such a level in my writing.

On the nights when my husband is working, I will take my laptop out again. I’ve had to stop writing at night, because of exhaustion; I don’t have the energy to be coherent. But I might blog or do some marketing, or email friends or do some online shopping. I rarely watch TV on my own. I see it as a waste of time. Time is precious. Free time, time that is yours to do what you wish, is so rare.

When my book was picked up and I knew that I would be working with a professional editor, I thought that I would be facing into a type of deconstruction – my words pulled apart, everything examined, changes imposed. But it hasn’t been like that at all. The whole thing has been an enhancement, facts checked, issues resolved, a massage of the manuscript, to be turned out, sharper; something I can stand over, proud.

Every night, since I signed with my agent in 2016, I visualised myself signing a book contract, just before I went to sleep. It was my version of counting sheep. I knew it would happen. I just wasn’t sure when, or how.

Now, I am unsure what to visualise. Sometimes it is the launch. Other times it’s a ranking on Amazon. But rankings don’t have quite the same visual effect as being offered a book deal. Nothing really can compare to that.

And then the baby is awake again. It’s 3am and the cycle of my day begins again. Children, home, work and writing. It is my life. A very lucky, lucky, life.

I’m in awe of anyone who even manages to get dressed with a new baby in the house, let alone write books! Thanks so much for sharing, Nicola and best of luck with your debut. 

Nicola Cassidy is a writer and blogger from Co. Louth, Ireland. Her debut historical fiction novel December Girl releases on Thursday 26 October 2017, published by Bombshell Books. She is married to Ronan and is Mum to August (3) and Bonnies (mere months). Find her on her website or follow her on Twitter or on her blog