C.S. Winchester's Blog

I need a hugI think it’s time to admit that my dream of being a full time writer is over.
Amazon are the only player in the self-publishing game who can generate significant sales, they essentially have a monopoly and I am at their mercy. Now, for reasons completely unknown to me and beyond my control, my sales there have dropped significantly. 
My books began to take off when Amazon started emailing people who had bought my books in the past, telling them about new releases. Those emails generated enough sales to put my books in the charts, which made them more visible, which generated more income. Five to seven thousand sales in total was average. After releasing three books to the same reception, I quit my day job to write full time.
Say what! Then suddenly last October, no email was sent after I released a new book. I went all around the houses with Amazon, asking what happened, why this email wasn’t sent (and I know when it’s sent because I always get a copy of it). Three different people assured me that the problem was fixed and the emails would be sent and of course nothing happened. 
Here’s one example of the kind of really hard questions I was asking them.

“I have contacted you on two previous occasions (first on the 29th of October) asking why and when this email would be sent, as it usually bumps my sales up into the thousands and gets me into the top 20 on the sales charts. I earn my living full time, publishing books through KDP, so it's a very important email to me and I hope you will understand that as 4 weeks have passed since publication, and I still have no answers and no email, I'm getting a little antsy. This is my only source of income, after all. 
Can someone please tell me what's happening? Why aren't my readers, especially those who have signed up for updates, being informed that I have published a new book?”

Dude, seriously? This is the reply I received to that query on the 13th of November 2013

“I checked with our concerned team and found that the issue has already been resolved.We won't be able to provide further insight or assistance for your request.Thank you for contacting us.Best regards,Masihuddin M”

Gee, thanks for clearing that up and answering my queries, Masihuddin, I totally understand and feel very reassured. 
Nail biting kityI just had to pray that the next book I had for release (on Dec 1st) would have that email sent. I sat there, biting my nails, waiting on tenterhooks. 
It wasn't sent. 
Sales of both those books have been more than mediocre, they’ve been abysmal. 
So when a third book came up for release. I decided I had to do SOMETHING to ensure that email would be sent.  I simply couldn’t survive without those sales and I couldn’t believe the promises that the error was fixed. I had been promised that it was fixed three times already.
So I went higher up, willing to risk the wrath of Amazon by asking for further insight or assistance, when I had already been told “We won't be able to provide further insight or assistance for your request.” 
[That’s the other problem when Amazon are the only real horse in the game, I’m terrified of upsetting them and perhaps being kicked off the KDP program.]
So, after three weeks of backwards and forwarding with at least 4 different executives, I was told that the emails could not be sent for previous books, those sales (remember, my sales had been totalling between 5,000-7000 sales per book) were simply lost to me, and I accepted that. There's no point flogging a dead horse.
I was once more assured that the email would be sent this time, so despite still being none the wiser as to what had gone wrong and what had been done to fix it, I had little choice but to release the new book.  6 sales? Potoo is not impressed.
The email went out yesterday. It generated 6 sales and came nowhere near putting me in the charts.
Let me put that in some sort of perspective for you. 
The email for the Lady and the Cowboy was sent on the 21st February 2013 and generated sales of 58 the day it was sent and 346 the following day. This gave it an amazon rank of #437 and put it in three genre charts.
The email for The Convenient Bride was sent on the 21st of March 2013. On the day the email was sent, the book sold 173 copies and 277 copies were sold the day after that email was sent. That resulted in an overall amazon chart ranking of #457 and genre rankings of #1 in the Historical>Victorian chart. #15 in the Historical romance>Victorian chart and #21 in the Historical romance>Regency chart.
In contrast, the email for Murder at Locke Abbey was sent at 7am on the 7th of May, and has resulted in exactly 6 additional sales in the day and a half since the email was sent. The highest ranking it reached was #45,597at 6.20pm GMT 7th May.
I wish I understood what happened, what changed, why the emails stopped being sent, why they were fixed but weren’t fixed and why, now they appear to be working, are they going out to fewer people.  Amazon are a great company and I still love them as a customer. As a publisher however, I feel like I’m fumbling around in the dark, trying to make sense of what is happening with only a partial picture of events and no explanations. The only person trying to help me is from KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) but obviously, the Amazon marketing emails aren't a part of KDP, they're sent by the Amazon site so although she'd doing everything she can, I'm still no further forward than I was last October. 
How much longer can I bang my head on this brick wall before I admit defeat? I think the answer is, I can't. Hands up, I surrender. I have lost this battle.
I will always write, it’s a part of who I am and if I couldn’t write, I would go mad (well, even more mad) but I can literally no longer afford for it to be my profession. 
Thanks, Amazon, it was fun while it lasted but now I have to see about getting a job, hopefully one that pays me enough to live on and doesn’t pull the rug out from under me with no rhyme, reason or explanation.
My dream of being a full time writer is over, and I'm heartbroken.

First up, in the interests of full disclosure, let me say I was harassed on Amazon and by email by a malicious reviewer/troll. I discovered a series of fake one star reviews on other peoples books and when I pointed that out on an authors forum, she turned her attention to me. It took A LOT of emails to amazon to get her reviews removed, despite proof in the form of emails, her IP address and the threats from her email, proof that she was selling good amazon reviews on Fourrer not to mention, her own review account’s extremely suspect behaviour. It wasn’t so much a case that her review dragged down my average rating, they didn’t by any a noticeable amount, it was that someone had threatened and harassed me, and Amazon just wanted to ignore it. It wasn’t right that she be allowed to get away with it (which is why I brought her to the attention of other authors she had targeted) and considering the abundance of evidence I provided, it should not have been as hard as it was to get her malicious reviews taken off.
Feel free to go read that saga if you’re up for it but it isn’t necessary for this post.
It’s because of this incident that I’ve given this subject (how to ensure that reviews are fair, without a knee jerk reaction) a lot of thought. 
You’ll see some of my earlier ideas in the comments of that thread. None of those were perfect (and this probably isn’t either) but I believe it’s the best option to ensure fairness for all parties, ie, reviewers, as well as the people, products and businesses being reviewed. 
Online reviews are a hot topic at the moment. People like Anne Rice are pressing for reviewers not to be allowed to be anonymous on sites like Amazon, while reviewers on Trip Advisor are being sued personally, for leaving bad reviews about establishments.
So what’s the answer?
There are a few things first that we have to admit before we can have a reasonable discussion about this.
1) People do leave fake malicious reviews. Sometimes to get back at an ex (or his new partner in one case i read of), because of a grudge or vendetta, or just because they're trolls. 
1b) As an add-on to that, people leave fake good reviews too. More than one author has been discovered anonymously trashing his competitor’s work, while praising his own to high heaven.
2) Some businesses (and authors and designers etc) will try to bully reviewers out of leaving genuine bad reviews. I even read about a company recently, that had such a stipulation in their terms and conditions of sale, stating that buyers can't leave negative reviews! Some Trip Advisor reviewers are now being sued, as is one Yelp reviewer. I can't speak for the honesty of any of these reviews but surely if some were malicious, the reviewer would have removed the review rather than being sued because win or lose, they will be out of pocket for legal fees and time. Therefore in all probably, the bad reviews in these cases are most likely true. A (non-internet) troll
3) The final point we need to admit, is that websites want your reviews. Sites such as Amazon actively solicit reviews, emailing you a while after a purchase to ask if you want to leave a review. Other sites such as Trip Advisor, wouldn’t even exist if not for reviews. 
As for that last point, it’s fair to say that reviewers are adding value to those business by leaving reviews, either by providing a reason for people to visit the site, or by helping other site users determine which products are best for them (returns and/or complaints=lost revenue). Therefore those businesses should protect reviewers and pay for the defence if lawyers get involved (or take out insurance to pay for the defence) and they should be liable for any damages awarded. The business benefited from that review, therefore the business should pay any damages due for false reviews.  
Obviously fake review shouldn’t be covered (just like false insurance claims should be denied) and therein lies the rub, weeding the true from the false would require work on the company’s part. They would have to buy or commission computer programs that would identify trollish behaviour patterns; they would have to implement new procedures to make sure that users are real people and not pseudonyms created to boost or discredit a business. Finally, they would have to pay staff members to personally check at least some of the flagged or suspect reviews and accounts. 
But that’s the trouble with companies, they want your reviews but most don’t want the time, trouble and cost of policing that user provided content. 
Instead of asking for anonymity to be withdrawn, we need to ask companies (and legislators) to take responsibility for the content left on their sites. 
Until a website will both protect its reviewersand take responsibility for allowing fake reviews (or not removing them in a timely fashion) we need to ask ourselves, “Why am I giving this business content that adds value to their business, FOR FREE, if they aren’t even going to protect me?” Think about that next time you leave a review. 
Now, if we ever get to that state of affairs, the issue of anonymity should no longer be an issue. Users can post under a pen name, because the business owners know their real name and address, and they have taken reasonable steps (such as credit card data) to ascertain that they are real people. In that instance, should a company, author or site user complain about a dodgy review, the website can check into the validity of the user, and remove fake or suspicious reviews accordingly (be they positive or negative reviews). If legal proceedings are ever instigated because of a review, the site can supply that user’s information (if and when they are legally required; I’m not suggesting they give your personal data out to anyone who complains about a review). 
So put simply, these are my suggestions for improving the review system.
1) Make companies legally liable for the reviews posted on their site2) Make them protect their reviewers when legally challenged 3) Make the companies legally (ie financially) liable for refusing to remove fake reviews. 
Bad reviews are helpful to customers, and only the fake ones need removing. Good reviews are helpful to customers, and only the fake ones need removing.

ETA: I'll give few author-specific examples of how this might work, which I hope will make the principle clearer.

This author's Michael Jackson biography was "review swarmed". In other words, before the book was released, MJ fans were planing and coordinating to target the book with 1 star reviews. The book didn't sell well at all and I believe that both the author and the publisher in this instance, have a pretty good case for loss of earnings from false and fake reviews, not to mention ample proof that those reviews are fake.

In the case of my troll reviewer, I didn't suffer any financial loss but I already suffer with PTSD (after being stalked by an ex). Being specifically targeted and threatened by that reviewer led to my symptoms worsening (things like flashbacks, insomnia, panic attacks) therefore if Amazon were legally responsible for allowing these reviews to remain on their site, I could have a case to sue them for mental anguish. 

Charlaine Harris received an uncoordinated barrage of one star reviews, as well as death threats, after fans didn't like some of her choices in the last Sookie Stackhouse book. The same happened to Veronica Roth. Both those books were bestsellers so a case for financial loss is probably out of the question, but a case for mental anguish and emotional distress wouldn't be. (Please note, I'm not saying readers cant leave 1 star reviews, but threats and insults directed to the author are totally out of line)

It's very hard to sue individual reviewers though, especially if they post under a pseudonym. By making Amazon legally responsible for the content of reviews on their site, and liable to pay any damages awarded due to loss of income or emotional distress thanks to said reviews, I'm pretty sure their lackadaisical attitude to this issue wouldn't last past the first court case that went against them.

Obviously not every author who receives a fake review would have a case to sue for damages (and of those who do, some wouldn't be able to afford it) but with Amazon actively policing reviews and taking complaints about reviews seriously, I would expect that cases of harassment by review, review swarming and cyber-stalking will be drastically reduced, and dealt with swiftly when they do arise.

If you haven't heard by now, at a preview screening of  Sherlock, Caitlain Moran went out of her way to trick the actors into reading a saucy slash-fiction aloud, making them, the producers and the audience uncomfortable.

This was done without the writers consent and she is not happy about it.

 To Caitlin? Thank you for spoiling something I found joy in. Thank you for humiliating me, taking my writing out of context without permission, belittling it and using it to embarrass actors who I deeply admire. Thank you for tainting the one thing sometimes that gets me through the day when I have two screaming kids, someone’s drawn on the walls in their own poo, and I have to drive through peak hour traffic yet again because my husband’s forgotten his glasses for work. Thanks for that support, Caitlin.

As you know, while I am a professional writer, I am also still a fanfic writer, although my time for that is limited these days. I support it as a creative outlet, it's hepful on so many levels, from helping the author (and readers) work through personal issues, to just helping people become a part of a community, which can be lifesaving for some people. When I'm at my lowest, it's fanfic I read, not novels.

We all know there's a lot of bad fic out there but so what? Those writers don't deserve to be belittled or humiliated, any more than overhearing someone in the coffee shop humming a really bad version of  the Killers needs humiliating. This is a fun creating outlet for people and where is the harm? Good or bad, fluff or NC17, characters or RPF, let it be.

A saving grace, in this is perhaps, that Steven Moffat (and possibly Mark Gatiss too) used to write Dr Who fanfiction, long before the series was brought back and they got jobs on New Who. so hopefully they are well aware that this is just a hobby, that no disrespect was meant, and that they too would probably have been mortified to have their own amateur stories read aloud by their Who heroes.

I used to be mostly on Caitlin's side, she had her flaws but was basically a good and amusing person to follow on twitter. I'm un-following her now. Intentionally humiliating anyone is not cool and she seems to have gone out of her way to humiliate fans, actors and producers.

See, I do have a sense of humour. What CM did wasn't funny.You know when your weird Aunt Sally gives you that awful Christmas jumper every year, which you wear once on the day, and then consign to the bottom drawer for the rest of eternity? If you don't like fanfic, or you don't like some aspects of fanfic, consign it to your bottom drawer and forget about it because, like your Aunt Sally, those writers worked hard on that work and even if you hate it, there's a real person who could be very hurt by unasked for and (frankly) uninformed* opinions.

*And if you do happen to have a degree in creating writing, work as a professional reviewer, or are a professional writer yourself and therefore are qualified to comment, rememberer these are amateurs, not professionals. 

This is a hobby. Would you expect Len Goodman to walk around a disco critiquing the dancers? No. There is a time and place for criticism but fanfic, and any amateur creative endeavours in general, is neither.

Time for another sample! Curl up on these cold winter nights with a delightful romance.

The Blurb! 

Unable to face Christmas with her family and the famous sister who stole her fiancé, Annie Powell books into a remote cottage in the Scottish Highlands.

Mac Hartman isn’t looking forward to the holidays either but when Annie turns up on his doorstep, he is instantly attracted to her.

In the beautiful, snow-covered mountains, love blossoms and what could have been a miserable experience, becomes a fairy-tale. But all fairy-tales must come to an end and real life doesn’t have happy ever afters.  

Can their budding romance survive Annie’s fears, and her seductive sister, who seems determined to steal Annie’s happiness?  

Season's Meetings is a fantastic festive read, to warm you up on those cold winter evenings.

As Annie exited the airport, following signs for Edinburgh City By-Pass, each passing mile upset the delicate equilibrium that she had fought so hard to regain over the past few months. Her parents had assured her that she didn’t need to rent a car while here but she wanted- no, she needed the freedom and independence that it gave her. This Christmas was going to be hard enough to endure and she felt like she needed the means to escape sometimes. It was nice to be back in Edinburgh however, it was familiar and homey and packed with memories from her childhood. But the closer she got to the Grange, the tighter her chest felt. Everyone would be there and in the case of her parents and her brother, that was fine, welcomed in fact. It was her sister and him, that she didn’t want to see. She had long ago accepted that her sister, Amelia, was a fickle and selfish creature, but she had never expected to find her with Simon, in Annie’s bed, no less.Being cheated on was a betrayal too far but to have the two people she was closest to both betray her… she still didn’t know how to handle that. This would be the first time since that fateful day that she would see them again, and the very thought drove an icicle of pain into her heart, leaving her breathless. She pulled the car over to the side of the road and sat quietly for a while, as she tried to compose herself. Whatever happened, she couldn’t let them know how much they had hurt her, that would be like letting them win, and she was damned if she’d let them know they had broken her spirit. She had to do this. Besides, her parents loved Christmas, and it wasn’t their fault that her sister was a class A bitch. They had assured her that Amelia and Simon would tone things down, be nice and be ‘understanding’ towards her. Annie still didn’t know why her feelings required understanding; it seemed pretty fucking obvious to her, that a person who has been betrayed is liable to rip some heads off. What she didn’t understand, never had in fact, was why Amelia was so easily forgiven for the myriad of insensitive things she had done over the years. Simon wasn’t the first boyfriend she had stolen either, although she usually worked her magic on them early on in a relationship, when their loss wasn’t devastating to Annie. She had come to expect it, in fact, and when they were kicked to the kerb a week later, she took a perverse kind of pleasure in it. ‘That will teach them not to be so fickle next time, and not throw something good away, for the faint chance of something better. Well, someone better,’ she would think. Sometimes she even tried to put a positive spin on it. ‘Better to know now that he‘s a cheating scumbag, rather than after ten years of marriage.’She couldn’t really blame men for preferring Amelia to her; Amelia had been an actress since she was five, and acting in big, blockbuster movies since she was 9. At 31 (Hollywood age, 24) she was still drop dead gorgeous and had that Hollywood glamour and confidence working for her, not to mention a stylist, a designer wardrobe, a massive bank balance, botox and plastic surgery. Amelia had dated her fair share of A-listers too, like Ryan Gosling and Zac Effron who, Annie had to admit, was way too young for Amelia and it was kind of icky. Not quite as icky as when she dated Tom Cruise briefly, who was 20 years older, but icky nonetheless. What man wouldn’t want to date ‘England’s Sweetheart, Amelia Powell’?And she wasn’t even English. Granted, they didn’t have much of a Scots accent but they were Scottish, born and bred. When questioned, Amelia, in her usual patronising manner, just explained that the concept of the United Kingdom having more than one country was difficult for Americans to comprehend, so they just thought of it all as England. Sean Connery didn’t seem to have any difficulty being called scots, she had thought, but she kept those thoughts to herself; sometimes it was easier to just smile and nod.When Annie’s episode had passed and she was feeling calm again, she realised that she couldn’t do this. Spending two weeks with her family, pretending not to remember that she was supposed to get married in mid-January, was just too much to ask of anyone, she decided. She pulled back into traffic and headed for Bruntsfield to find a coffee shop, where she could sit for a while and decide what to do, while a slice of horribly calorific cake soothed her battered ego. She found a café, ordered at the counter and as she claimed a table to wait for her order, she overheard the people behind her, talking about spending Christmas in Aviemore. One lady and her family were heading up there, to escape the yearly tug-of-war between her family and her in-laws. “So we’re opting out this year,” the woman declared. “Besides, it’ll be nice for Bruce and I to spend a Christmas by ourselves for once, before this one comes along. It might be our only chance until she’s old enough for college.” “It’s a girl then?” her friend asked. “Well no, it’s too early to tell apparently, but I’m hoping. Bruce is going mental, I swear he’s more excited by the baby than I am! Just the other day he…”Annie had tuned them out, finding their happiness painful to listen to, but Christmas in somewhere like Aviemore sounded lovely. She had images of a remote cabin, a log fire and a snow covered landscape. Lack of internet access might also help her write; she had a deadline looming and hadn’t penned anything decent since ‘the discovery’ as she termed it. Her deadline had already been pushed back twice, thanks to her understanding editor, Kelly, arguing for her, but there would be no third chance. If she didn’t produce a manuscript by February 5th, she would lose her contract and face a financial penalty. Her brother would understand; he knew her better than anyone. Her parents would be hurt but this wasn’t about Amelia and Simon, this was about work, and her February deadline. They would understand that, right? Of course, she had already tried using that excuse for not coming and it hadn’t worked ‘Amelia will pay your fine!’‘Mum, it isn’t just a fine, I’ll lose my contract. I love working with Holder & Sons and if I leave, I’ll lose Kelly!’‘Kelly who?’She only raved about Kelly every third phone call, so perhaps it was telling that after two years working with the same editor, her mother still didn’t know who she was. ‘My editor,’ she said with a resigned sigh.‘Family trumps an editor, darling. Editors are ten a penny but family is precious.’‘Kelly is one in a million. She gets me and what I’m trying to say, and believe me, I’ve tried a lot of editors over the years.’Editor trouble was what made her look around for a new publisher and join Holder & Sons in the first place, and she was damn sure that she had told her mother all about her problems at the time.Regardless, work was her excuse and her mother wouldn’t get a chance to object this time, Annie would be sending a text, then turning her phone off.She pulled her tablet computer out of her bag and set about searching for an available holiday let. ***Mac Hartman had endured a hard year but he had finally succeeded, turning the family estate into a thriving business, after estate taxes nearly bankrupted them. He had worked day and night, finding a viable way to make the estate pay for itself, pouring his own money into the facilities and finally, publicising it. While still technically in debt to him, last month the estate had turned its first profit and the forecast for December was even better, with all the units rented for the last two weeks of December. The final booking had only come in an hour ago in fact, and he was immensely relieved. January would be quiet again, with only 30 percent of the units let, but the profits from November and December should see it through, and thanks to two weddings in February, he expected to break even again. Come the summer, when various activities would be available on the estate, such as hiking, fishing and horse riding, he expected the business to be self-supporting enough to begin paying him back. His plan for the estate was to turn the unoccupied properties into holiday lets, including turning the main house into self-catering apartments of varying sizes, ranging from one bedroom for couples, to six bedrooms, sleeping 14 with pull-out beds, for larger holiday groups, such as stag, hen and wedding parties. The licence to perform weddings had yet to come through and was still a thorn in his side. The two February weddings were friends of the family, hence why they booked before the licence came through, but he still didn’t want to let them down.It wasn’t a hotel though. They had facilities to cater for large events, but outside caterers would be called in and temporary staff hired to wait tables. Each apartment and cottage had its own kitchen and guests were expected to cater for themselves. Housekeeping could be arranged throughout a stay, but that was at an additional cost.The main house had been built in a square, with central gardens and courtyard in the centre, and a large archway in the south wing, at the rear of the property, which was large enough for a tall van to drive through if necessary, which helped with mowing the lawn. Each ground floor apartment on the outer side had its own small garden area and decking, but the central courtyard was open to everyone. He had saved the south wing of the house for himself and his family, dividing it into four apartments so their garden at the rear was private. Although he didn’t need the space right now, he hoped that one day he would have a family, and his three spare bedrooms could be put to good use.  His mother’s apartment was just two bedrooms, for her and any friends she might like to come and visit her. The apartments earmarked for his brother and sister were three and four bedroom respectively but since neither showed any interest in returning to the estate right now, they were rented. Between his three spare bedrooms and his mother’s, he could house them if they came to visit. Although pleased with his progress and the 100 percent occupancy, he wasn’t looking forward to Christmas, and intended to remain holed up in his apartment on Christmas day, watching action movies and denying that it was anything other than a normal day. The family had abandoned him too, all preferring to spend Christmas alone this year but he couldn’t blame them for that, because it was exactly what he wanted to do as well. If they had asked to come and stay, he would have said yes and endured it because they were family but honestly, it would have been hell. When the main door buzzer rang in his apartment, he groaned. The final guest had checked in and been given their keys an hour ago, so this was probably someone who wanted something from him. It was amazing how many people in self-catering accommodation, expected a stocked fridge or a mini-bar. They did provide some complimentary staples in a basket, such as local eggs, cheese, bread and a bottle of red and white wine, and he wondered if that gave them the impression that he cared about hospitality. It had been the head housekeeper’s idea but he was considering finishing it since it seemed that old adage, give an inch and they’ll take a mile, was true. Mostly they came knocking wanting more wine, as if he was an off licence or something! When he refused, since he didn’t have a licence to sell alcohol and he wasn’t about to keep giving it away, they got huffy.With a sigh, he got up and went to see what they wanted. When he reached the intercom, he realised that the person was outside, meaning that she had come from one of the cottages and was either too drunk or too lazy to drive into the local town and purchase her own food and drink. Rather than buzzing her inside, he left the apartment and went to meet her, hoping that the cold would keep her from lingering for too long as she tried to persuade him. As he opened the door, he noticed that she was wheeling a large suitcase and carrying a laptop case over her shoulder, but he didn’t think much of it, other than that she was either very lazy and couldn’t carry a bottle of wine back to her cottage, or she was in for a shock when she realised that he would not be furnishing her with enough wine to fill that suitcase. “Can I help you?” he asked, although his tone suggested nothing like a desire to help. She looked a little taken aback at his gruff voice but persevered. “Um, I booked a cottage under the name of Annie Powell?” He frowned. “The Powells checked in two hours ago.” “There must be some mistake, I made that booking, for one person and as you can see, I only just got here.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Miss, I really am sorry but all our units are occupied.” “But I booked and paid for it!” When he looked sceptical, she let go of her case and began rummaging in her large handbag. He noticed that she was exceptionally pretty, in an understated way. Her hair looked very dark brown or black and was cut to mid shoulder length, she wore a little makeup but her dark lashes framed sapphire blue eyes, and the cold had brought an appealing pink sheen to her cheeks. He wondered what she looked like underneath that bulky coat she wore, since he had a feeling from her jeans and boots peeking out below the hem, that she might have a very attractive figure. He felt the pull of attraction to her, of an intensity that he hadn’t felt for a long time.She pulled out a tablet computer, opened the cover and handed it to him.“Here, that’s the email confirmation I was sent from Hartman Hall Holiday Homes.” Although he really didn’t need this right now, the email did look like one that his website would send and anyway, he was starting to feel bad about leaving her out in the cold, since the snow was coming down quite heavily now.“Why don’t you come inside and I’ll see if I can figure this out.” “Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile and he opened the door wide for her to enter. He led her to a door off the reception, which served as his office. “Take a seat,” he said as he turned his computer on. “Thank you.” She took her scarf off and began blowing into her hands to warm them. She didn’t remove the black woollen coat however, and he regretted that. “Can I get you a warm drink?” he asked, hoping to coax her out of the coat.“No, thank you; I don’t want to put you to any trouble.” “It’s no trouble.” “Really, I’m fine, thank you.” She was thanking him an awful lot, considering that he hadn’t done anything for her yet. While the computer booted up, he got out the file of check-in slips for today and looked through them. While some of the handwriting was bad, there was clearly no one called Powell that had checked in today. There was however, a Farrell, which might explain his initial confusion.With the computer ready, he opened the bookings file and looked through the listings with today’s check-in date. Farrell was there, as was Powell. One by one, he matched the names from the check-in book to the bookings and discovered that while he had given Mr and Mrs Jacobs the Rose Cottage, they didn’t have a booking. It was a rookie mistake; they came saying they had a booking, he gave them the last one without checking his records or asking to see their confirmation, thinking it had to be theirs. “It seems I gave your cottage away,” he admitted. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go and ask them to leave.” He wasn’t looking forward to this, especially since he remembered the family’s thrilled smiles as he showed them around Rose cottage. They probably thought they’d had an upgrade but in reality, they hadn’t booked anything at all, and now they and their two kids had to find somewhere else to stay. This close to Christmas and near a popular ski resort, that wouldn’t be easy.Miss Powell was staring out of the window and frowning. “I really am sorry,” he tried to reassure her. “They’ll be gone in no time, then you can settle in.” “How many of them are there?”“Four, why?” She looked over at him and he could see that her frown was caused by concern, rather than upset. “Don’t move them. It’s late and it’ll be harder for them to find somewhere, while I haven’t even unpacked yet. If you agree to refund my card, I’ll go back to town; there has to be something available, a hotel or a Bed and Breakfast.” She got to her feet and took hold of the handle of her suitcase. “Sorry to have bothered you.” He couldn’t believe it, he had fouled up and she was giving away her booking and apologising to him. “Wait,” he called as was about to disappear through the door, back into the hallway. She turned back. “There is another option.”She looked curious. “It’s one of the family units but the owner is away at the moment.”“I don’t think I could sleep in someone else’s bed, not without their knowledge.” “Well it isn’t her bed yet, not really.”She was frowning again and he realised that he wasn’t explaining himself very well. Miss Powell seemed to have the effect of turning him into a tongue tied teenager again. “She hasn’t been back since the renovations were finished,” he clarified. “And she isn’t due back until January; she’s on a round the world cruise with her friend.” She seemed to be wavering, biting down on her lower lip as she weighed up her options. “The weather is getting worse out there, I can't in all good conscience let you drive in this.” “Are you sure she won’t mind?” “Positive.” “You know her that well?” “I do.” He picked up her case, as if that settled the argument.“Then, thank you.” She followed him as he led the way to the rear of the house. “So, you’ve worked here for a while then?” she asked.He had avoided telling everyone else who checked in that he was part owner of this estate, because he didn’t want them to know he had so much invested in the venture, and partly because he hadn’t come to terms with the reason he was part owner. With Miss Powell however, it was something else that held him back. A lot of women liked him, while others liked his money, and sometimes it could be hard to tell which was which. Something told him that Annie would like him for him, but he wanted to be sure. “Not that long, but I’ve known the family forever.” Which technically speaking, was true.“Well I haven’t exactly seen much of it, but from what I’ve seen, you have a lovely place here.” “Thank you. A lot of time and effort went into the renovations.”“What’s the rest of the estate like?” she asked. “You’ll see for yourself tomorrow but if I do say so myself, it’s spectacular.”“Then I hope I get a chance to see it before I go.” “Why? You’re not agoraphobic, are you?” “No,” she laughed. “But I’ll just stay for tonight and try to find somewhere else tomorrow.”He thought they had been over that. “No, please, this is my fault. We’ve only been open a few weeks and we’d hate for bad reviews to start appearing online; I could lose my job! You wouldn’t want that, would you?” He could tell from her smile that she knew he was joking, at least in part.“Well, such Scrooge-like behaviour is in keeping with the season.” “Ah yes, but Scrooge learned the error of his ways.” They had reached a door that said S2, and he unlocked it. “That’s me,” he said, pointing to the next door along the hall, S1. “Just knock if you need anything.” He led her inside and turned the lights on as he went.“Bedroom, bedroom plus en suite, bathroom, lounge, utility room, very large closet-slash-space I didn’t know what else to do with and finally, the kitchen.”To his delight, she was looking around but not into the rooms he was pointing out, she was looking at the ceiling roses, the crown moulding and the door handles, most of which were original in this part of the house; the replicas were used in the public rooms. Most of the furnishings in this apartment were new, since his mother had expressly said that she didn’t want painful reminders, so the antiques were spread through his and the other family apartments. The new furnishings were quality pieces however, chosen with care to please his mother and now, he hoped, Annie. He knew it was ridiculous to care what she, a virtual stranger, thought but since his mother had been away, he had yet to see her reaction. “So?” he asked.“It’s gorgeous,” she exclaimed with a smile. “Does the fireplace in the lounge work?” “Well yes and no; it’s gas, which isn’t exactly authentic, but it looks realistic and it’s convenient.” “Sounds perfect,” she said. “Well, I’d better find you some bedding and towels and what not.”“Great,” she smiled, still paying more attention to her surroundings than to him, which now upset him a little.He headed towards the short corridor that led to the front door, but turned back as a thought occurred to him, and was pleased to catch her checking out his behind. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one feeling the attraction.“Shall I leave the door on the latch so I don’t disturb you?” he asked, shaking her out of the stupor she seemed to be in. Her gaze left his bottom and her cheeks reddened when she saw his smug smile. “Oh, uh, yes, whatever you like.” He hurried away, so that he could return to her sooner rather than later. ___________________

I hope you liked that taster and that it put you in the festive mood.If you'd like to read more, Season's Meetings isavailable in kindle format onAmazon US,  Amazon UK  and  Amazon CA
If you don't have a kindle, did you know, Amazon do free Kindle reading apps for almost all devices, includingPCs, Mac, Android, iPhone, BlackBerry, iPad and Windows 7 Phone?Just search your country's site for 'Kindle reading app'.

Time for another sample! Curl up on these cold winter nights with a delightful romance.

The Blurb! 

Unable to face Christmas with her family and the famous sister who stole her fiancé, Annie Powell books into a remote cottage in the Scottish Highlands.

Mac Hartman isn’t looking forward to the holidays either but when Annie turns up on his doorstep, he is instantly attracted to her.  
In the beautiful, snow-covered mountains, love blossoms and what could have been a miserable experience, becomes a fairy-tale. But all fairy-tales must come to an end and real life doesn’t have happy ever afters.  

Can their budding romance survive Annie’s fears, and her seductive sister, who seems determined to steal Annie’s happiness?  

Season's Meetings is a fantastic festive read, to warm you up on those cold winter evenings.

As Annie exited the airport, following signs for Edinburgh City By-Pass, each passing mile upset the delicate equilibrium that she had fought so hard to regain over the past few months. Her parents had assured her that she didn’t need to rent a car while here but she wanted- no, she needed the freedom and independence that it gave her. This Christmas was going to be hard enough to endure and she felt like she needed the means to escape sometimes. It was nice to be back in Edinburgh however, it was familiar and homey and packed with memories from her childhood. But the closer she got to the Grange, the tighter her chest felt. Everyone would be there and in the case of her parents and her brother, that was fine, welcomed in fact. It was her sister and him, that she didn’t want to see. She had long ago accepted that her sister, Amelia, was a fickle and selfish creature, but she had never expected to find her with Simon, in Annie’s bed, no less.Being cheated on was a betrayal too far but to have the two people she was closest to both betray her… she still didn’t know how to handle that. This would be the first time since that fateful day that she would see them again, and the very thought drove an icicle of pain into her heart, leaving her breathless. She pulled the car over to the side of the road and sat quietly for a while, as she tried to compose herself. Whatever happened, she couldn’t let them know how much they had hurt her, that would be like letting them win, and she was damned if she’d let them know they had broken her spirit. She had to do this. Besides, her parents loved Christmas, and it wasn’t their fault that her sister was a class A bitch. They had assured her that Amelia and Simon would tone things down, be nice and be ‘understanding’ towards her. Annie still didn’t know why her feelings required understanding; it seemed pretty fucking obvious to her, that a person who has been betrayed is liable to rip some heads off. What she didn’t understand, never had in fact, was why Amelia was so easily forgiven for the myriad of insensitive things she had done over the years. Simon wasn’t the first boyfriend she had stolen either, although she usually worked her magic on them early on in a relationship, when their loss wasn’t devastating to Annie. She had come to expect it, in fact, and when they were kicked to the kerb a week later, she took a perverse kind of pleasure in it. ‘That will teach them not to be so fickle next time, and not throw something good away, for the faint chance of something better. Well, someone better,’ she would think. Sometimes she even tried to put a positive spin on it. ‘Better to know now that he‘s a cheating scumbag, rather than after ten years of marriage.’She couldn’t really blame men for preferring Amelia to her; Amelia had been an actress since she was five, and acting in big, blockbuster movies since she was 9. At 31 (Hollywood age, 24) she was still drop dead gorgeous and had that Hollywood glamour and confidence working for her, not to mention a stylist, a designer wardrobe, a massive bank balance, botox and plastic surgery. Amelia had dated her fair share of A-listers too, like Ryan Gosling and Zac Effron who, Annie had to admit, was way too young for Amelia and it was kind of icky. Not quite as icky as when she dated Tom Cruise briefly, who was 20 years older, but icky nonetheless. What man wouldn’t want to date ‘England’s Sweetheart, Amelia Powell’?And she wasn’t even English. Granted, they didn’t have much of a Scots accent but they were Scottish, born and bred. When questioned, Amelia, in her usual patronising manner, just explained that the concept of the United Kingdom having more than one country was difficult for Americans to comprehend, so they just thought of it all as England. Sean Connery didn’t seem to have any difficulty being called scots, she had thought, but she kept those thoughts to herself; sometimes it was easier to just smile and nod.When Annie’s episode had passed and she was feeling calm again, she realised that she couldn’t do this. Spending two weeks with her family, pretending not to remember that she was supposed to get married in mid-January, was just too much to ask of anyone, she decided. She pulled back into traffic and headed for Bruntsfield to find a coffee shop, where she could sit for a while and decide what to do, while a slice of horribly calorific cake soothed her battered ego. She found a café, ordered at the counter and as she claimed a table to wait for her order, she overheard the people behind her, talking about spending Christmas in Aviemore. One lady and her family were heading up there, to escape the yearly tug-of-war between her family and her in-laws. “So we’re opting out this year,” the woman declared. “Besides, it’ll be nice for Bruce and I to spend a Christmas by ourselves for once, before this one comes along. It might be our only chance until she’s old enough for college.” “It’s a girl then?” her friend asked. “Well no, it’s too early to tell apparently, but I’m hoping. Bruce is going mental, I swear he’s more excited by the baby than I am! Just the other day he…”Annie had tuned them out, finding their happiness painful to listen to, but Christmas in somewhere like Aviemore sounded lovely. She had images of a remote cabin, a log fire and a snow covered landscape. Lack of internet access might also help her write; she had a deadline looming and hadn’t penned anything decent since ‘the discovery’ as she termed it. Her deadline had already been pushed back twice, thanks to her understanding editor, Kelly, arguing for her, but there would be no third chance. If she didn’t produce a manuscript by February 5th, she would lose her contract and face a financial penalty. Her brother would understand; he knew her better than anyone. Her parents would be hurt but this wasn’t about Amelia and Simon, this was about work, and her February deadline. They would understand that, right? Of course, she had already tried using that excuse for not coming and it hadn’t worked ‘Amelia will pay your fine!’‘Mum, it isn’t just a fine, I’ll lose my contract. I love working with Holder & Sons and if I leave, I’ll lose Kelly!’‘Kelly who?’She only raved about Kelly every third phone call, so perhaps it was telling that after two years working with the same editor, her mother still didn’t know who she was. ‘My editor,’ she said with a resigned sigh.‘Family trumps an editor, darling. Editors are ten a penny but family is precious.’‘Kelly is one in a million. She gets me and what I’m trying to say, and believe me, I’ve tried a lot of editors over the years.’Editor trouble was what made her look around for a new publisher and join Holder & Sons in the first place, and she was damn sure that she had told her mother all about her problems at the time.Regardless, work was her excuse and her mother wouldn’t get a chance to object this time, Annie would be sending a text, then turning her phone off.She pulled her tablet computer out of her bag and set about searching for an available holiday let. ***Mac Hartman had endured a hard year but he had finally succeeded, turning the family estate into a thriving business, after estate taxes nearly bankrupted them. He had worked day and night, finding a viable way to make the estate pay for itself, pouring his own money into the facilities and finally, publicising it. While still technically in debt to him, last month the estate had turned its first profit and the forecast for December was even better, with all the units rented for the last two weeks of December. The final booking had only come in an hour ago in fact, and he was immensely relieved. January would be quiet again, with only 30 percent of the units let, but the profits from November and December should see it through, and thanks to two weddings in February, he expected to break even again. Come the summer, when various activities would be available on the estate, such as hiking, fishing and horse riding, he expected the business to be self-supporting enough to begin paying him back. His plan for the estate was to turn the unoccupied properties into holiday lets, including turning the main house into self-catering apartments of varying sizes, ranging from one bedroom for couples, to six bedrooms, sleeping 14 with pull-out beds, for larger holiday groups, such as stag, hen and wedding parties. The licence to perform weddings had yet to come through and was still a thorn in his side. The two February weddings were friends of the family, hence why they booked before the licence came through, but he still didn’t want to let them down.It wasn’t a hotel though. They had facilities to cater for large events, but outside caterers would be called in and temporary staff hired to wait tables. Each apartment and cottage had its own kitchen and guests were expected to cater for themselves. Housekeeping could be arranged throughout a stay, but that was at an additional cost.The main house had been built in a square, with central gardens and courtyard in the centre, and a large archway in the south wing, at the rear of the property, which was large enough for a tall van to drive through if necessary, which helped with mowing the lawn. Each ground floor apartment on the outer side had its own small garden area and decking, but the central courtyard was open to everyone. He had saved the south wing of the house for himself and his family, dividing it into four apartments so their garden at the rear was private. Although he didn’t need the space right now, he hoped that one day he would have a family, and his three spare bedrooms could be put to good use.  His mother’s apartment was just two bedrooms, for her and any friends she might like to come and visit her. The apartments earmarked for his brother and sister were three and four bedroom respectively but since neither showed any interest in returning to the estate right now, they were rented. Between his three spare bedrooms and his mother’s, he could house them if they came to visit. Although pleased with his progress and the 100 percent occupancy, he wasn’t looking forward to Christmas, and intended to remain holed up in his apartment on Christmas day, watching action movies and denying that it was anything other than a normal day. The family had abandoned him too, all preferring to spend Christmas alone this year but he couldn’t blame them for that, because it was exactly what he wanted to do as well. If they had asked to come and stay, he would have said yes and endured it because they were family but honestly, it would have been hell. When the main door buzzer rang in his apartment, he groaned. The final guest had checked in and been given their keys an hour ago, so this was probably someone who wanted something from him. It was amazing how many people in self-catering accommodation, expected a stocked fridge or a mini-bar. They did provide some complimentary staples in a basket, such as local eggs, cheese, bread and a bottle of red and white wine, and he wondered if that gave them the impression that he cared about hospitality. It had been the head housekeeper’s idea but he was considering finishing it since it seemed that old adage, give an inch and they’ll take a mile, was true. Mostly they came knocking wanting more wine, as if he was an off licence or something! When he refused, since he didn’t have a licence to sell alcohol and he wasn’t about to keep giving it away, they got huffy.With a sigh, he got up and went to see what they wanted. When he reached the intercom, he realised that the person was outside, meaning that she had come from one of the cottages and was either too drunk or too lazy to drive into the local town and purchase her own food and drink. Rather than buzzing her inside, he left the apartment and went to meet her, hoping that the cold would keep her from lingering for too long as she tried to persuade him. As he opened the door, he noticed that she was wheeling a large suitcase and carrying a laptop case over her shoulder, but he didn’t think much of it, other than that she was either very lazy and couldn’t carry a bottle of wine back to her cottage, or she was in for a shock when she realised that he would not be furnishing her with enough wine to fill that suitcase. “Can I help you?” he asked, although his tone suggested nothing like a desire to help. She looked a little taken aback at his gruff voice but persevered. “Um, I booked a cottage under the name of Annie Powell?” He frowned. “The Powells checked in two hours ago.” “There must be some mistake, I made that booking, for one person and as you can see, I only just got here.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Miss, I really am sorry but all our units are occupied.” “But I booked and paid for it!” When he looked sceptical, she let go of her case and began rummaging in her large handbag. He noticed that she was exceptionally pretty, in an understated way. Her hair looked very dark brown or black and was cut to mid shoulder length, she wore a little makeup but her dark lashes framed sapphire blue eyes, and the cold had brought an appealing pink sheen to her cheeks. He wondered what she looked like underneath that bulky coat she wore, since he had a feeling from her jeans and boots peeking out below the hem, that she might have a very attractive figure. He felt the pull of attraction to her, of an intensity that he hadn’t felt for a long time.She pulled out a tablet computer, opened the cover and handed it to him.“Here, that’s the email confirmation I was sent from Hartman Hall Holiday Homes.” Although he really didn’t need this right now, the email did look like one that his website would send and anyway, he was starting to feel bad about leaving her out in the cold, since the snow was coming down quite heavily now.“Why don’t you come inside and I’ll see if I can figure this out.” “Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile and he opened the door wide for her to enter. He led her to a door off the reception, which served as his office. “Take a seat,” he said as he turned his computer on. “Thank you.” She took her scarf off and began blowing into her hands to warm them. She didn’t remove the black woollen coat however, and he regretted that. “Can I get you a warm drink?” he asked, hoping to coax her out of the coat.“No, thank you; I don’t want to put you to any trouble.” “It’s no trouble.” “Really, I’m fine, thank you.” She was thanking him an awful lot, considering that he hadn’t done anything for her yet. While the computer booted up, he got out the file of check-in slips for today and looked through them. While some of the handwriting was bad, there was clearly no one called Powell that had checked in today. There was however, a Farrell, which might explain his initial confusion.With the computer ready, he opened the bookings file and looked through the listings with today’s check-in date. Farrell was there, as was Powell. One by one, he matched the names from the check-in book to the bookings and discovered that while he had given Mr and Mrs Jacobs the Rose Cottage, they didn’t have a booking. It was a rookie mistake; they came saying they had a booking, he gave them the last one without checking his records or asking to see their confirmation, thinking it had to be theirs. “It seems I gave your cottage away,” he admitted. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go and ask them to leave.” He wasn’t looking forward to this, especially since he remembered the family’s thrilled smiles as he showed them around Rose cottage. They probably thought they’d had an upgrade but in reality, they hadn’t booked anything at all, and now they and their two kids had to find somewhere else to stay. This close to Christmas and near a popular ski resort, that wouldn’t be easy.Miss Powell was staring out of the window and frowning. “I really am sorry,” he tried to reassure her. “They’ll be gone in no time, then you can settle in.” “How many of them are there?”“Four, why?” She looked over at him and he could see that her frown was caused by concern, rather than upset. “Don’t move them. It’s late and it’ll be harder for them to find somewhere, while I haven’t even unpacked yet. If you agree to refund my card, I’ll go back to town; there has to be something available, a hotel or a Bed and Breakfast.” She got to her feet and took hold of the handle of her suitcase. “Sorry to have bothered you.” He couldn’t believe it, he had fouled up and she was giving away her booking and apologising to him. “Wait,” he called as was about to disappear through the door, back into the hallway. She turned back. “There is another option.”She looked curious. “It’s one of the family units but the owner is away at the moment.”“I don’t think I could sleep in someone else’s bed, not without their knowledge.” “Well it isn’t her bed yet, not really.”She was frowning again and he realised that he wasn’t explaining himself very well. Miss Powell seemed to have the effect of turning him into a tongue tied teenager again. “She hasn’t been back since the renovations were finished,” he clarified. “And she isn’t due back until January; she’s on a round the world cruise with her friend.” She seemed to be wavering, biting down on her lower lip as she weighed up her options. “The weather is getting worse out there, I can't in all good conscience let you drive in this.” “Are you sure she won’t mind?” “Positive.” “You know her that well?” “I do.” He picked up her case, as if that settled the argument.“Then, thank you.” She followed him as he led the way to the rear of the house. “So, you’ve worked here for a while then?” she asked.He had avoided telling everyone else who checked in that he was part owner of this estate, because he didn’t want them to know he had so much invested in the venture, and partly because he hadn’t come to terms with the reason he was part owner. With Miss Powell however, it was something else that held him back. A lot of women liked him, while others liked his money, and sometimes it could be hard to tell which was which. Something told him that Annie would like him for him, but he wanted to be sure. “Not that long, but I’ve known the family forever.” Which technically speaking, was true.“Well I haven’t exactly seen much of it, but from what I’ve seen, you have a lovely place here.” “Thank you. A lot of time and effort went into the renovations.”“What’s the rest of the estate like?” she asked. “You’ll see for yourself tomorrow but if I do say so myself, it’s spectacular.”“Then I hope I get a chance to see it before I go.” “Why? You’re not agoraphobic, are you?” “No,” she laughed. “But I’ll just stay for tonight and try to find somewhere else tomorrow.”He thought they had been over that. “No, please, this is my fault. We’ve only been open a few weeks and we’d hate for bad reviews to start appearing online; I could lose my job! You wouldn’t want that, would you?” He could tell from her smile that she knew he was joking, at least in part.“Well, such Scrooge-like behaviour is in keeping with the season.” “Ah yes, but Scrooge learned the error of his ways.” They had reached a door that said S2, and he unlocked it. “That’s me,” he said, pointing to the next door along the hall, S1. “Just knock if you need anything.” He led her inside and turned the lights on as he went.“Bedroom, bedroom plus en suite, bathroom, lounge, utility room, very large closet-slash-space I didn’t know what else to do with and finally, the kitchen.”To his delight, she was looking around but not into the rooms he was pointing out, she was looking at the ceiling roses, the crown moulding and the door handles, most of which were original in this part of the house; the replicas were used in the public rooms. Most of the furnishings in this apartment were new, since his mother had expressly said that she didn’t want painful reminders, so the antiques were spread through his and the other family apartments. The new furnishings were quality pieces however, chosen with care to please his mother and now, he hoped, Annie. He knew it was ridiculous to care what she, a virtual stranger, thought but since his mother had been away, he had yet to see her reaction. “So?” he asked.“It’s gorgeous,” she exclaimed with a smile. “Does the fireplace in the lounge work?” “Well yes and no; it’s gas, which isn’t exactly authentic, but it looks realistic and it’s convenient.” “Sounds perfect,” she said. “Well, I’d better find you some bedding and towels and what not.”“Great,” she smiled, still paying more attention to her surroundings than to him, which now upset him a little.He headed towards the short corridor that led to the front door, but turned back as a thought occurred to him, and was pleased to catch her checking out his behind. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one feeling the attraction.“Shall I leave the door on the latch so I don’t disturb you?” he asked, shaking her out of the stupor she seemed to be in. Her gaze left his bottom and her cheeks reddened when she saw his smug smile. “Oh, uh, yes, whatever you like.” He hurried away, so that he could return to her sooner rather than later. ___________________

I hope you liked that taster and that it put you in the festive mood.If you'd like to read more, Season's Meetings isavailable in kindle format onAmazon US,  Amazon UK  and  Amazon CA
If you don't have a kindle, did you know, Amazon do free Kindle reading apps for almost all devices, includingPCs, Mac, Android, iPhone, BlackBerry, iPad and Windows 7 Phone?Just search your country's site for 'Kindle reading app'.

In my last post I discussed how and why Damaris's character was formed. In this one, I'll introduce you to a handful of the women scientists who helped me create the intellectual side of her. She is not based on any one person here and indeed, many have little in common with her, but are nevertheless worthy of being remembered for their contributions to science. 
  Caroline Herschel came to England from German in 1772, to run her brother’s house for him. When her brother took an interest in Astronomy, Caroline followed and helped him make observations and build telescopes, becoming a renowned astronomer in her own right. She was the first woman to discover a comet and discovered 8 in total, and she had her work published by the Royal Society. She was also the first British women to be paid for her work, when her brother convinced his patron to pay her an annual wage. 
By the time of her death at age 97 in 1848 she had received many honours, including a gold medal from the Royal Astronomical Society and between them, she had her brother discovered 2,400 new stars.


Margaret Bryan was a talented schoolmistress and in 1797 she published A Compendious System of Astronomy, the lectures of which were praised by mathematician Charles Hutton. 
In 1806 she also published Lectures on Natural Philosophy, thirteen lectures on hydrostatics, optics, pneumatics, and acoustics. 
The publication, Astronomical and Geographical Class Book for Schools, published anonymously in 1806, has also been ascribed to her. She had three schools, in Blackheath, near Hyde Park Corner, and at Margate.


Mary Somerville discovered a maths problem in a ladies magazine, and it sparked a lifelong interest in algebra and mathematics. 
In 1794, aged just 14,Her father and husband stopped her but when her husband died in 1807, her inheritance gave her the freedom to resume her studies. She returned to Scotland and in 1812, married William Somerville, who supported her interest. 
She performed experiments in magnetism and write a series of papers on physics, mathematics, astronomy and chemistry, as well as translating astronomer Pierre-Simon Laplace’s The Mechanism of the Heavens into English, which was used as a text book for the next 100 years.
Along with Caroline Herschel, she was one of the first two women to become honorary members of the Royal Astronomical Society.

Marie MargueriteBihéron was an anatomist, known for her medical illustrations and wax figure models. Frustrated by their rapid decay, she turned her skills to wax modelling and was renown for her work, becoming a skilled practitioner. 
In 1759 she was invited her to present her work to the Academie Royale des Sciences and again 1770, to demonstrate her innovative, detailed and lifelike model of a pregnant woman, complete with moveable parts and foetuses. In 1771 she presented to the Academie Royale for the third time, presenting her models to the visiting crown prince of Sweden.
Because the Academie did not support women, she eventually moved to England. She achieved international acclaim, both for the anatomical accuracy and lifelikeness of her models, as well as inventing a method of making wax that did not melt and among others, she sold models to the King of Denmark and Catherine II of Russia.

Mary Anning ’s love of science began as a child, when she and her brother discovered an animal skeleton, and he charged 12 year old Mary with digging it up. She found a skull and 60 vertebrae, which were sold to a private collector for £23. They thought it was a crocodile but it was eventually named Ichthyosaurus, and thus began Mary’s career as a palaeontologist. 
She had no proper education and taught herself palaeontology, anatomy, geology and illustration and as well as the Ichthyosaurus, she found a long-necked plesiosaurs, a pterodactyl and thousands of other fossils which helped scientists to draw a picture of the world during the Jurassic period. 
Scientists would travel to England from as far away as America, to hunt for fossils with Mary.
Elizabeth Fulhame was a Scottish chemist who is best known for her 1794 work, An Essay on Combustion, detailing her experiments on oxidation-reduction reactions, catalysis and theories on combustion. The book was translated into German in 1795.
In the 1790s, she also made some early observations on the use of light sensitive chemicals on fabric, which predate Thomas Wedgwood's more famous photogram trials of 1801, although she didn’t, attempt to make images as Wedgwood did.

In 1810, she was made an honorary member of the Philadelphia Chemical Society.

 ________________
Her Saving Grace is available in kindle format on Amazon US,  Amazon UK  and  Amazon CA
orYou can read an excerpt here.

When writing Her Saving Grace, I was prepared for a backlash from the historical puritans (which so far, hasn’t come) but it might surprise many people to know that the science loving, polymath, Damaris Wellesley, isbased on real people. 
Now when we think women and science, especially the origins of women in science, we perhaps think of Marie Curie, or she would at least be high on our list, but while she was the first woman to win a Nobel Prize, she was far from the first female scientist. 
Science didn’t begin as we know it today with structure and form, overseen by teachers, conducting experiments that thousands have done before and if one wishes to pursue a career in science, getting a job working for a profit company, or working for a university and applying for research grants. 
Granted, many scientists did teach at universities, but just as many if not more, did not. Science was, to my modern understanding, more what might be considered a hobby. Wealthy men with money, no profession, time and curiosity, set up rooms or laboratories and thought about stuff, then set about devising ways to prove the conclusions that had come to. They dabbled in science, almost. The gifted could also be supported by scientific institutions or wealthy patrons, although they were most certainly middle class, or raised and educated by a charitable institution. 
There were science journals, where people could publish papers to be read by like-minded people, but they were few and far between. Many scientists also preferred to publish books of their works and theories although unlike today, it wasn’t a for profit venture. In the Victorian age, publishing began to become a for profit business but until then, people financed their own print runs (or found a patron to back them) and were as likely to lose money as make it. 

Émilie duChâtelet, mathematician & physicist
Anyway, under those circumstances, it was actually easier for women to study science than in later periods, when entrance to universities and science organisations was banned. 
Rich women didn’t have to keep house and raise their own children so providing they had an understanding husband, lover or father, they could study science just as easily as a man, although I will admit that they were less likely to be taken seriously by many men.
Also unlike today, science was viewed more as a collective, so rather than focusing ones efforts only on one field of research and perhaps a few related areas, many studied various fields, such as Mary Somerville who began studying algebra and mathematics but also wrote papers on magnetism, physics, astronomy and chemistry, as well as translating the work of others into English.
The character of Damaris is based largely on that understanding, with her sharp mind and a broad range of knowledge, from philosophy to anatomy. 
I had to make her older in order to give her the age necessary to have amassed all this knowledge, but she could not be infallible however, so I also gave her one large deficiency, her personality. 
Today we might wonder if Damaris was on the autism spectrum, perhaps with a mild form, such as Asperger’s syndrome, but I didn’t want that to become the focus of the story. 
Her personality is largely based on my own personality, and she is perhaps my most autobiographical character to date. 
When I was a child, I was told by a parent that they suspected I was autistic and had a personality disorder, I am happy to reveal that I am not autistic nor do I have a personality disorder (believe me, those thoughts haunted me for years). I was also constantly likened to a person who was constantly reviled by my family. This was sometimes done in anger, “You’re so much like X!” while at other times I think it was just a general musing, and “Doesn’t she look like X when she does that?” 
However, whether cruel or just thoughtless, the actions of a parent can have a big impact on how we view ourselves, and present ourselves to the world, which is where I believe Damaris’s behaviour stems from. 
While I don’t consider myself a polymath, I do consider myself intelligent and dare I say it, of above average intelligence. My school even tested me and I am almost a genius, just 2 points shy of the 140 necessary to be called one. 
It’s hard for me to say that though, as I expect people to point and laugh. You see, as you probably know if you read this blog, I also grew up dyslexic and undiagnosed and if that wasn’t enough, I’m also very shy and a terrible introvert. Did rejection cause the shyness and introversion? It’s impossible to say but regardless, they are permanent character traits now. 
Margaret Cavendish's was criticised by her contemporaries  As such, I tend to avoid people, even those I love when upset or depressed. I question things others take for granted and unless I can see a point in them, I shun societal norms, (I never fit in anyway, so why try?). My shyness also manifested as passive aggressive, meaning that I often snapped at people and was rude, although when angry was really the only time when I could stand up for myself.
I’ve come a long way since then however, I’m assertive rather than passive aggressive now, I’m confident in my abilities even if I don’t brag about them, and I am largely comfortable with my deficiencies. 
Damaris is a female with above average intelligence, yet largely derided and dismissed because of her sex, made to feel inferior and excluded by those around her who either couldn’t, or didn’t want to understand that she was capable of more than just being pretty.
Poor Damaris is just beginning the journey that I have been on for over 8 years now, and while she is brusque, thoughtless and rude at times, I hope I have imbued her with enough humanity to still be a likable character.
In my next post, I will be looking at some of the female scientists who helped shape Damaris’ learnings, if not her personality.__________________   
Her Saving Grace is available in kindle format on Amazon US,  Amazon UK  and  Amazon CA
You can read an excerpt here.

Growing up dyslexic is hard enough. Growing up as an undiagnosed dyslexic is even harder.

While there wasn't a lot of help for dyslexics when I was a child, the diagnosis mostly stopped people (mostly teachers) from belittling them and when they were belittled, one hopes that had enough grasp of their condition to realise that it wasn't stupidity, it's hat they need to process information in a different way. I'd like to think they might also have been made aware of their strengths, innate abilities which many "normal" people don't possess.

Without that diagnosis however, it's a free for all on making a kid feel inadequate and stupid, without giving the kid any way to understand why they find certain so called east things, so hard.

There were things that I was good at of course, and things that came far more easily to be than to my "normal" classmates, such as maths and physics. You would think that someone who performs well in areas which are traditionally viewed as difficult, would be praised and rewarded.

That was not the case. My reward for doing well was more work or sometimes, menial tasks. I would be given an extra worksheet, or told to tidy the supply closet, to wash up the experiment equipment, or just sit there silently as the others caught up. So naturally, I learned to slow down. What's the point in finishing early, only to be sent off to tidy a cupboard?

Fail to grasp the difference between there, their and they're however, even when no one had ever taught you the difference (that I recall) I was dragged to the front of the class and publicly humiliated. Once she was done with her dressing down, a classmate give me a handy tool to tell the difference. Their ans an i in it, which could be the body and head of a stick man, therefore their is used when talking about something belonging to people. If your 'their' could be written as 'they are', then it's 'they're' and for everything that doesnt fir those two, use 'there'.

I still write the wrong one from time to time, who doesn't, but now I actually understand which one to use when, and why. English teachers couldn't teach me that, just as they couldn't teach me the difference between a noun and verb, or the correct use of punctuation and 101 other things.

In all honesty, I have learned more about the English language since leaving school, then I ever learned in it. 

Then of course, we had the dreaded *reading aloud*. God, how I hated that. The diagnosed dyslexics were spared the humiliation but I was not. No amount of breathing deeply could calm me down, no carefully keeping my rule or bookmark under each line I was reading could keep my place and with each mistake I made (reading the words incorrectly or mispronouncing words) my anxiety grew and made me liable to make more mistakes, not fewer.

School also destroyed my love of reading. As a child I had loved a set of audiobooks with accompanying text to read and no, I didn't list listen, I read the pages too. In school however, I never read a single book we were assigned, save for the few torturous pages I was required to read aloud. I checked books out of the library each week because we were supposed to, and I always bought one book at out book fairs but i never read them, I only did it too fit in. It was my love of sci-fi which reignited my love of written fiction. It was a tie-in novel, so no high fiction, no complex sentence structure and with enough plot to get me caught up in the story and make me want to keep reading.

It was fanfiction communities that began and nurtured my love of writing, because storytelling is more important than spelling and grammar, and it was wanting to improve my skill level in my hobby that gave me the impetus to seek out my own understanding of language.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that school destroyed my pleasure in both reading and writing literature. It didn't exactly do wonders for my self esteem either.

I cant lay all my inadequacy at the door of school however, my family (who are not dyslexic and rather talented with language) were just as unforgiving. Not 6 months ago a family member called me lazy and stupid and just couldn't understand how I, a writer, could call Jane Austen, Jane Austin.

As an adult, when I realised that I might have dyslexia, it gave me a reason for my poor spelling, but it did nothing for my self esteem. I mostly ignored it and didn't tell anyone that I was dyslexic because, what was the point? I was ashamed of my lack of ability and felt that saying "but I'm dyslexic" was just an excuse, and school had drummed it into me early on, that there were no excuses.

I few years ago I really began researching it and the roller-coaster of emotions it brought out in me was pretty frightening. I wanted to yell and scream, and I wanted to cry. I was angry at the injustice of it all, of being blamed for something I couldn't help, of being made to feel stupid when it should be obvious to me that someone who can get a B in English without reading the books, was exceptionally creative and decidedly NOT stupid. I was sad for all the inadequacy I had been made to feel, and the missed opportunities I might have been given, such as specialist teaching.

The "what if" is a very tempting fairytale, so tempting that you can lose sight of what can be, by being bogged down in 'what if'. Even writing this is bringing some of those feelings and while I hope I have found most of the mistakes, the past 2 paragraphs are peppered with far more mistakes than usual.

I began to look into getting diagnosed and the possibility of adult learning courses. I quickly came to realise that if it's not caught as a child, no one really wants to know. To be diagnosed was £400 and couldn't be charged to the education authority, and what good would a diagnosis dome? I knew enough to know I had the condition. I hadn't done well in employment, so have been self employed for over a decade, so I wouldn't even show my diagnosis to my boss and ask for specialist equipment or programs to help me do my job.

As for adult learning courses, there were plenty for illiterate adults, but none for dyslexic adults. I know how to read and write, to quite a high standard actually, and I know my vocabulary outstrips many other people's, what I needed to learn, was a better way.

I spend my life surrounded by notes, on the computer, on scraps of paper, all sorts. it would be really nice to learn someone's name and actually be able to remember it. It would be wonderful to learn a technique for memorising numbers or names. And it's not that I don't want to remember. My last boyfriend's name was Paul and when I met him, obviously I wanted to make a good impression because he was smoking hot! To make life easier, I have an uncle Paul, a brother in all but name called Paul and my previous boyfriend had been called Paul. The second time I met him, do you think I could remember his name?

If I give someone directions, even for the town I was born and grew up in, I don't use street names. I know them butIi just cant recll them most of the time. However, I can tell you about the roundabout with Blockbuster on the corner, that you go past the Wollsey Theatre, or that you turn up by the old hospital, or that you turn off just past that Lloyds branch. One of the cruellest twists of directional fate was that Museum Street and High Street lead on from each other, but the Museum was on the High Street, while the High Street was out of the town centre, and Museum Street lead into the centre. That's just mean! ;)

And as for left and right, yeah, always getting that one wrong. I wish I knew why but if I don't stop and think 'I write with my right hand' and actually think about which hand holds my pen, there's at least a 50/50 chance I'll tell you to go in the wrong direction.

Something in my brain just doesn't process information in the same way as "normal" people do, and I'd really like to learn how to process information so that I can member it. As an adult however, I'm buggered. No one is interested so I'm as disenfranchised as an adult, as I was as a child.

If you don't believe me, Dyslexia Week is coming up and this is the local program. Everything is for children, young adults, or teachers and parents of dyslexic children. The only event that doesn't specifically state it's for those groups, is a repeat of Kara Tointon's BBC documentary, Don't Call Me Stupid, but that's from 1,30 to 3pm, hardly the type of event that your average, employed adult can go to.

I want to go to the White Box Method, which aims to make storytelling more accessible for young dyslexic people. That sounds exactly like what I want, help to further my writing career, to make it easier to keep track of my stories. But it's got an age limit of 25 and only 10 places available. I emailed, asking if they would make an exception for an undiagnosed dyslexic who has never received any specialist teaching and the reply? I can go is there's a space.

I feel like I don't matter. I was missed the first time around and now I'm just too much trouble to cater to."Move along now, adult dyslexic, you're reminding us how the education system fails some children and making us look bad!"

You would think I'd be used to such treatment by now and I am. I'll survive. I've managed for 36 years with absolutely zero help and I will continue to manage.

So why is my vision blurring as I write this?

For once, it would be really nice is rather than making do, I could thrive. I wonder how that feels?

Or not

There's a few things I'd like to say about Russell Brands Newsnight interview.


1) Jeremy Paxman was not beaten, knocked out or thrashed. The point of Jeremy Paxman is to play devils advocate and make his interviewees prove their policies or point of view. Jeremy Paxman is not Michael Parkinson, he's not there to have a nice chat with famous people. His job is to push them until he gets the answers he wants, even if he actually agrees with their point of view. That's what he did here and he succeeded in getting a very passionate and eloquent Brand talking about his views.

It's win/win.

2) Unfortunately, Russell brand doesn't take things from a historical perspective and is passionate, but not particularly informed.


Taken over 200, 100, or even 30 years, things are improving in leaps and bounds for many of the disenfranchised. 

Nothing improves overnight and no one is ever going to come along and solve all the problems but taken over a longer period, real change is visible and in the last 30 years alone, from a personal perspective, a lot of that change has been improvements in sexism and gay rights legislation. 

Those two areas are really important to me and when I get pissed off that gay men still get beaten up, or that women are still paid less and things aren't changing, I just have to look back 10 years to see that change IS being made. I just have to look back in my lifetime to realise that until I was 11, as far as the law was concerned, married women couldn't be raped by their husbands. Change IS happening and we ARE making a difference, it just doesn't happen, in any area, overnight. 

Look back just 200 years, and you find a time when the industrial revolution literally ground people up and spat them out (eg. the average life expectancy for a coal miner was 15. No that's not a typo, they entered the coal mines as children of 4 or 5 and on average died at fifteen years of age.) 

We've come so very far.
 
3)  Finally, Brand lacks insight into what a democracy actually is.


No ruler, be it king, dictator, nor democratic government, knows what the people want until they're told. Changes in society are reflected by parliament, not created by parliament, and it isn't until the people make a noise, that public opinion starts to change and eventually, it reaches a tipping point where elected officials take notice, resulting in chances to the law. 

The government we have is a reflections of society as a whole. It wasn't until people stopped thinking homosexuals deserved jail that it was legalised. It wasn't until society as a whole began to realise that homosexuality was something you were born with that people began to think, maybe it's not okay to hate on these people for something they can't change', and homophobia was made a hate crime. It wasn't until people realised that ,thinking that having gays in the military wouldn't result in gay orgies and the destruction of out military, was just silly, amd gays were finally allowed to be open in the armed forced. It wasn't until people realised that it was wrong not to allow gay relationships legal recognition, that civil unions were created, and then that perhaps civil unions were a second class option, and they should be able to marry instead. 

The whole point of a democracy is that the government reflects the views of the majority and if society sucks, it's up to us to change the opinions of those around us and raise awareness, not leave it to strangers in parliament to somehow magically know what change people want ahead of time. It's the reason they set up http://epetitions.direct.gov.uk/ (where any petition with over 100,000 signatures can be debated in parliament) so that know what issues are most important to the people.

The five year electoral process is to try and ensure that we don't have unfair representation (which is why everyone really does need to vote) or corruption in power because if your MP or party isn't representing your views, you can vote for someone else 5 years later.

Unfortunately, many people don't care about a lot of important issues, and some people still believe stupid things. Parliament is just a reflection of that apathy and sometimes, stupidity, not some sacred bastion of truth and justice. 

You can't leave everything to some vague 'revolution', if you want things to change, YOU must take steps to help change them. And yes, it takes time because some people are entrenched in their small-minded and bigoted views but in Ian McKellen's lifetime alone, gay sex was illegal until he was 28, he had to hide his relationships and lie until he was nearly 30 years old! Now he can get a civil partnership and soon, he'll be able to get married.  I think going from hard time if discovered, to having hate crime protection and being able to marry, is quite some achievement!

That's a whole lot of change for one man's lifetime and while I wasn't alive for most of it, I am proud of the changes that I have been a part of in the last 10 years, and I thnak those who stood up for change before I was around and aware.

Constantly moaning about how bad things are doesn't make them any better. Go out and be the change you want to see. It isn't anyone else's responsibility, it's up to you.

Finally) The best thing about our democracy is that if you don't like it, you can change it.  Go to http://epetitions.direct.gov.uk, talk to those around you, challenging wrong thinking and change their minds, join Anonymous, use social media to get your point of view out there (to far more people than you know in real life) and win hearts to your cause. 

It's never been easier to  make your voice heard and as with any democracy, if enough people shout loud enough, change happens. 

Realising that is is up to us to change what we don't like, is the revolution that we need. 

We have the power, we just need more people to realise that they can use it.

 

I don't really understand the current trend in feminism, which is anti transgender women but it has got me thinking more deeply on the topic of feminism, sexism and trans people.

What I wonder, is how transgender people experience male privilege, specifically male to female tran women.

Something we say a lot in society is "I understand". Most of the time what we are really saying is, "I understand what you are saying" rather than "I understand what it means to be you."

Take schizophrenia for an example (which I use because it is relatively rare yet well known). Most of us understand what schizophrenia is, but how can we really know how it feels to hear a voice that you think belongs to someone else? Is it scary? Exciting? Like you are never alone, always being watched?

How can people understand a break with reality when they have never experienced a break with reality? For most of us, even while enjoying a fantasy (our own fantasies, or perhaps a fictional form of media) we know that it isn't real; that what we are watching or imagining is pure fantasy. We suspend our disbelief for just long enough to get off, cheer ourselves up with a daydream, or finish the movie, but we never actually believed that Luke Skywalker is was or ever will be real.

Now, I realise that everyone's experiences in life are slightly different and in any given area, some peoples experiences will be poles apart but when to comes to feminism and male privilege, I wonder if M2F trans people don't have a unique perspective on gender and privilege? Aren't their opinions and experiences worth listening to?

The reason I wonder this  (rather than the F2M experience) is because transgender women were born with male privilege. Granted, they later give this up when they switch genders and they undoubtedly experience other forms of prejudice, some of which are unique to the transgender experience.

But the thing is, few people get to experience both sides of the equation. While F2M transgender men gain privilege, the real point of male privileged is that it's not something that's taught, it's something instilled in men from infancy. I doubt very much than many F2M trans people can know what it feels like to be born knowing you were 'right', 'normal' and 'the thing that others should aspire to'. You just can't grow the kind of self-confidence that that message gives.

However, trans-women grew up in a boy's body and therefore, they didn't have their wardrobe choices policed,  they weren't accused of "distracting" boys or worse, of "wanting it" because they dressed too provocatively. They weren't told to watch their drinks in a nightclub, they weren't told not to walk alone at night. They weren't told not to climb that tree, they weren't told to be modest and keep their legs closed, they weren't told that wearing a tampon makes you feel like you've taken an ecstasy tab.

They were told to be proactive, not that they needed to wait to be asked. They weren't taught that the point of life is to have children, or that you are nothing without a man on your arm, or that meeting prince charming would solve all their problems and then they would live "happily ever after". They haven't had total strangers comment on their appearance, or thinking that they have the right to touch and grope you, just because you have a vagina. They haven't had total strangers tell them to cheer up, as if they have no right to feel unhappy.

Their opinions were more readily asked for and accepted than a girls. They were praised for being smart or brave or adventurous, rather than being told over and over that they were pretty, or told how to be prettier, until they realised that their primary value to the world was how they looked and whatever else they achieved in life, it would never be enough without having good looks as well.

M2F trans women were born being told and being given tons of nice stuff, just because they had the good fortune to be born with dangly bits (even if they didn't feel like they were a boy).

They don't give up those innate privileges until they change gender. They then of course, experience life, long term, as a woman, and can experience for themselves everything that society denies and demands of women.

I'm reminded of Dustin Hoffman's video a few months back, where he cried on camera as he voiced his epiphany while making Tootsy. He basically realised that if he had been born a woman, while not ugly, he wouldn't have been beautiful and by his own value system (taught by society) he realised that he wouldn't have given his female self the time of day, because despite knowing how much he had to offer the world, he wasn't a beautiful woman. Until that moment, he hadn't realised that he placed no value on unattractive women, they were essentially non-entities to him.

And that's very much how society* views women. If you are brainy and average looking (or ugly) Go away! Whether you are dumb or brainy and were lucky enough to be genetically gifted with good looks; pull us a chair because you, pretty lady, are worthy of our interest.


Of course, Dustin didn't experience job hunting as both a man and a woman. He didn't experience dating as both a man and a woman. He didn't experience the constant fear of violence that women live with, or worry that being a victim of violence would make others blame them for their own misfortune (and I would argue that violence and victim blaming are an even greater fear for M2F transgender women).

There are 1001 things that privilege offers to men which it denies or makes harder for women. Feminist men, whilst they may be aware of 101 of their privileges, haven't experienced the flip side of the coin. Many probably don't even notice the 900 other tiny ways in which their privilege advantages them over women. To be fair, there are a lot of women, even feminist women, who don't see a lot of the privileges that society affords to men because like men, we have been indoctrinated by the same sexist belief systems and female born women are also bound by having only experienced living as one gender.

So yeah, just curious about that. I have tried searching but couldn't find anything about how it felt to have, and then give up male privilege. If you have any insights or links, I'd love to read them.

*"And that's very much how society* views women" Sweeping generalisation there and what I mean, is that while there are more than a few unsexist men, society on the whole is still sexist. All of us were indoctrinated with sexism to a greater or lesser degree, even if we later realise the truth and change out ways/beliefs.