Biography

I am a British writer, born in London, England, and brought up on a south London Council

estate, the youngest of four children of Irish Catholic working class parents. Alas, one of

life's late developers, and, at that time, more interested in playing marbles than studying

for, and taking exams, I failed the 11+ examination, which was the exam that decided the

standard of the rest of your education (and usually the standard of the rest of your Iife...).

Like my older siblings, I left school in my mid-teens and started work - mostly a series of

tedious dead-end jobs. Though, funnily enough, the first job I had, when I left school at

sixteen, was as an assistant in a public library, with the perks (at that time, I don't know

if such perks still exist) of being able to borrow as many books as I liked and never having

to pay any fines. Ye Gods! Couldn't I do with such perks now! My fines from the library are

awe-inspiring! You know what it's like - you take books out for research, keep them for

months and always forget to renew them. Even though, nowadays, I do some of my research

on the internet, nothing really replaces the book held in the hand, with all the bibliographic
information at the rear.

When I look back, that job at the library had the scope to become a career; unfortunately,

being young and gormless, I had little sense and even less interest in studying for exams.

I left the public library after about a year for a series of typing jobs of the dead-end variety.

Stupid, or what? But, I suppose, insight is not a gift that is given to the young...

Along the way, I met George, the darling man who became my husband. After a while, we

started our own business, which we ran for a number of years. I was responsible for the

office side, which I did in the evenings, after work, and I had to teach myself VAT, wages,

all the general accounts and how to keep the paperwork clean, which was probably the

most demanding aspect of all (we ran a vehicle repair workshop, my husband being a

grease monkey).

Anyway, after the rent for the premises doubled, the business staggered on for a few

more years until we finally realised we were flogging a horse that was already dead.

So we gave up the business and I continued with the dead-end typing jobs (which I had

never been able to afford to actually give up).

I had always been a great reader, and, after all the frustrations of day jobs and trying to

keep our business afloat, when I read an account by a published author (Colin Dexzter,

the author of the Morse novels), of what had decided him to try his hand at writing, it was

as if I finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel and - maybe - it wasn't the train.

Anyway, my love of English and reading eventually persuaded me to try to emulate this

author and attempt to do something about my intellectually unsatisfying and creatively

unfulfilling life.

So, I thought, what the heck? Do it or bust! Fortunately for me, at this stage, knowing

no one else with either any education or literary aspirations, I was blissfully ignorant of

how difficult it was (and is) to establish a writing career. Though, after the first book or

two were repeatedly rejected, a glimmer of understanding began to sink in...

Dear Reader

(as the Victorian novelists used to say), you are not alone in your pain and frustration;

most of us have been there - sometimes, like me - for years.

Because, for all my efforts, it wasn't till six books, six years and many rejections later,

that I held in my hand a hardback book that was published. That first book was

Land of Dreams, a short romance. It didn't earn me a fortune and neither have any of

my subsequent books, nor, unless you're very lucky, will yours. A Thrust to the Vitals is

my thirteenth novel, and the tenth in my Rafferty & Llewellyn crime series

(Severn House UK Jan 2007, US April 2007) and I'm still not rich...

As for my non-writing life, I am still married to George, whom I met when I was twenty-five.

He was (and, strangely enough, still is!) older than me, and had two teenaged children

when we met. Unfortunately, although he's some years my senior, he's definitely not

Sugar-Daddy material, having no more dosh than me. But we've been together for more

than twenty--seven years - maybe that has something to do with sharing various

traits - we're both Librans, though my husband is not a reader. I used to have to threaten

to bash him over the head with the frying pan to get him to read my manuscripts, but

now, he volunteers (sore head memories?)

I enjoy gardening and used to love sewing, photography, painting (portraits mostly) and

teaching myself to play keyboards, but as writing demands so much of my time I have

little leisure for other pursuits apart from gardening, which I have stuck to, come what

may. I enjoy growing flowers and vegetables from seed; apart from writing, it's the only

other area of my life where I can feel creatively God-like, so I cling to it, come rejection

or deadlines. I have also recently (May 2006) become a Distance Learning tutor in

Creative Writing for the Home Study Division of a well-known writing magazine.

I still live in England, though in 2000 we moved to Norfolk in East Anglia, which we both

love; partly because the area we live in is so blissfully free of traffic or traffic jams

(compared to London, anyway).

Blood on the Bones was originally called A Dark Unravelling, but by the time I had

finished the book, the title had been rendered boring. Likewise with

A Thrust to the Vitals: I was ages finding this title, but when I found it, I just knew

it was right. Don't ask me how I knew; I just did.

Along the way, I've learned what other experienced authors say - that it doesn't get

any easier! Each succeeding book seems to be more difficult than the one before...

I'd be grateful for some tips on making it easier. Please! Share and share alike...?