Book 2 in the Fairlyden Series - Mistress of Fairlyden

I have uploaded this book to Amazon as an E-book.

Mistress of Fairlyden

As Mistress of Fairlyden, and happily married to William Fairly, Sarah feels her life complete. But longing to share the joyful news of her pregnancy with Beatrice Slater, her childhood friend, Sarah defies her husband’s wishes and goes alone to Muircumwell Mill. She could not have foreseen the dreadful consequences which are to haunt her for the rest of her life, and force her to become the sole keeper of a disturbing secret.

At the Mill, she meets Beatrice’s sly and ambitious father, Edward Slater, whose evil jealousy and desire for revenge lead to a frenzied attack upon Sarah. Months later little Alex is born with a deformity of his feet. Sarah blames upon herself. William cannot bear the fact that his son will never be perfect and a rift develops.

Bored with the farm life of Fairlyden, and troubled by his son’s condition, William sets up a precarious business venture with Sir Simon Guillyman. Sarah cautiously welcomes this outside interest, thinking it good for William and their marriage. But when Sir Simon dies unexpectedly, his attractive widow poses a new problem.

With a growing family, financial hardship and the secret burden resulting from Edward Slater’s revelations, Sarah finds herself increasingly drawn to Crispin Bradshaw, owner of a Yorkshire woollen mill.

Mistress of Fairlyden is the moving and evocative second novel in this quartet of life on the land in nineteenth-century Scotland, following Fairlyden.

The Family at Fairlyden and Fairlyden at War will be uploaded in a few weeks time. 

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=Mistress+of+Fairlyden&x=12&y=19

The Grandeur of Trees

During the winter storms two more of our precious trees blew down and another had to be felled for safety. An ash seedling had taken root in the fork of the trunk which had also begun to rot. More than a hundred years to grow and and in less than an hour it lay on the ground. If only trees could talk what wonderful tales they would be able to tell.

Fortunately we planted three copper beeches for our three children when we moved here in 1970 . They were slender saplings then and even after forty years I can span their trunks easily with my arms. It will take another hundred years before they are as big as the ones we have lost. How insignificant our own lives are in comparison. More recently we have planted an oak tree and a white birch, both with special memories. Through time they will help to replace the trees lost in the large farm garden but it saddens me to think no more children will have the joy of collecting conkers from the horse chestnut tree as my children did, nor will they gather beech mast in the autumn.
Many of you will be familiar with the poem below, and even better if you have heard it sung in the rich deep voice of Richard Tauber.

Trees by Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)

I think that I shall never see

                                                                                  

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

*

Fairlyden book 1

Please Note : FREE DOWNLOAD FROM AMAZON ON SUNDAY AND MONDAY

 1st AND 2nd  OF APRIL 2012

Blurb for Fairlyden by Gwen Kirkwood

 (book One in a series of four)

Matthew Cameron’s death has ended the three life lease on the tenancy of the farm of Nethertannoch but Sandy Logan hopes to secure the tenancy so that he can keep his promise, made to Matthew on his deathbed, namely to love and protect his daughter, Mattie. He has made his promise with joy and sincerity because he loves the beautiful and vulnerable Mattie, who has been deaf since childhood.

The laird, Sir Douglas Irving, has other plans. He has little interest in the remote Scottish glen of Caoranne, or its people, but he needs to buy the silence of rapacious farmer, Jacob Reevil, who has long coveted the prosperous Cameron farm – and Mattie. So the laird promises the girl and the farm to Reevil’s idiot son, with no thought for the consequences.

When events explode into violence Sandy finds himself accused of murder and he is forced to flee. He takes Mattie with him, although he knows he cannot marry her until she comes of age. They trek for many miles and eventually find refuge at the rundown farm of Fairlyden, nestling in a peaceful valley. It belongs to Daniel Munro who has been in poor health for years due to crippling rheumatism. He does not welcome strangers but something about the pair of fugitives touches his heart and he agrees to let them stay.

They work hard to make a living and to restore the fertility of the land. Gradually Mattie is able to produce enough eggs and butter to sell, and Sandy has his strength and knowledge of horse breeding, but they try to keep out of the public eye, fearing retribution from Caoranne.
Unfortunately Daniel Munro is the illegitimate son of the late Earl of Strathtod so Fairlyden only belongs to him, and his heirs, during their lifetime. Without heirs it will return to the present Earl, who has always hated Daniel and can’t wait for him to die. So Daniel devises a scheme to thwart his half-brother, a scheme which must include Mattie - one which will have far- reaching consequences down the generations.

The Beauty Above

Yesterday evening the sunset over the Galloway Hills was magnificent. Unfortunately my photographic skills cannot come near to showing the beauty of the crimson bands across the skyline, changing to oranges and pinks against the purple and deep blues of the evening sky.

I often look at the sky and think how wonderful it is  but in my writing I realise I do not pay enough attention to this great expanse which we all see above us wherever we are. What can be more romantic than the wide blue heavens with a few fluffy white clouds dreamily floating by, or what can arouse more tension or fear than storm clouds gathering ominously in a darkening, brooding sky. I love the clear white light of a full moon and I still remember learning Walter De La Mare's poem Silver - "Slowly silently now the moon, walks the night in her silvery shoon' I like the bit about the harvest mouse scampering by with silvery claw and silver eye while silver fish in the water gleam. Many songs have been written about walking with a lover by the light of the moon. Yet I knew one writer who said anything to do with moonlight made her feel creepy.

    It is common knowledge that British people often remark on the weather, especially if they can't think of anything else to say, but our weather is so changeable and unreliable compared with many other countries. When I was young there were no weather forecasts readily to hand as there are now. Every morning my father looked at the barometer, tapped the glass and remarked that it was falling, meaning it might rain, or it was rising so it might stay dry.
     He also studied the moon a lot.He used to say when the new moon was on its back it held water but I am no use at interpreting the signs. When we looked at the stars I could see the Great Bear and The Plough and a few others when he pointed them out but I can never see them myself.

The unpolluted Galloway sky is earning a lot of publicity as a place to visit for those wanting to see the stars. In 2012 the organisers of the Wigtown Book Festival are also reaching for the stars by arranging author talks and activities in conjunction with Galloway Dark Forest Sky Park.  

Research in fiction

I make no apologies for repeating this here after writing it on  http://novelpointsofview.blogspot.com/ a blog which I share with four other writers who all have the same agent as myself. Generally speaking the readers of the two blogs are different but repetition is not something I usually do and be assured I do not intend to make a habit of it and bore you to tears.

Research

There is nothing more irritating to a reader than to come across a fact, or description, which they know is incorrect. It is no excuse to say it is only fiction. Admittedly most writers do use poetic licence from time to time but they know research is like an iceberg with most of it hidden in the writer’s mind and only the salient points showing in the story. Readers of fiction are not looking for a lecture. If they were searching for facts they would choose a book on the subject. Nevertheless it makes a book more interesting, and more memorable, if the reader absorbs some new fact or detail, without being distracted from the enjoyment of the story.

                When I began writing sagas set at the beginning of the twentieth century I spent quite a lot of time at our local libraries studying the microfiche copies of newspapers. The librarians always helped me find the relevant periods. Newspaper advertisements provide background details - from clothes, materials, prices, foods, furniture, tools and items in everyday life at that time. I confess I often got side tracked with things which had no relation to the book I was writing. One example was discovering Clydesdale horses were regularly exported to Canada from the port of Annan. It seems incredible considering the near derelict state of the small port as I know it. It can barely accommodate a small fishing boat today, though I believe there are plans to renovate it as a tourist attraction. Immigrants embarked on the long journey to Canada from Glencaple, now no more than a small village on the River Nith.

                Over the years I have accumulated a large number of books which I still enjoy using for research, especially the real life events of the twentieth century. Where these slot seamlessly into the lives of my fictional characters I include them to help fix the period in the reader’s mind. Sometimes they affect the life of a character, as when war is declared and a man is forced to join the army, or a major flood or accident.

                Younger writers may find it difficult to believe the valuable research tool of the World Wide Web only became freely available with an announcement on 30^th April 1993. It is astonishing how it developed from then to 2000 and how much we can discover today with the press of a few buttons and access to the internet. Even so it is usually advisable to check more than one source if the information is vital to the plot.

                Sometimes it is not only facts we need but also the feel, the atmosphere, maybe the smell or sound or taste of a scene. I am always diffident about asking people for help with research, especially when it is only for a small part of my novel, but that small part is important and it is essential to get it right. Recently I needed information concerning the work and procedures in a certain part of the police force. Eventually, and not without trepidation, I wrote to our local constabulary. I need not have worried because they could not have been more helpful. I really enjoyed meeting with the young police sergeant. (Doctors and policeman are all getting younger these days even if it is only in my eyes!). I learned all sorts of details which may have seemed insignificant, but which I could only learn from a person genuinely interested in his work and doing it on a daily basis.

                In conclusion I have to say research is never finished. My next project is to discover the effects and emotions of losing a limb. Romance? Where is the romance in that I hear you cry. All I can say is that my characters do have problems to overcome but they also have courage and hope and love.

Families

About a fortnight ago I was invited to an 80^th birthday party. You might expect this to be a place for zimmers, or at least walking sticks, but there were none in sight or in use. The hostess keeps herself fit and takes a keen interest in all the members of her extended family and this was apparent in the warmth and congeniality. She has four children and they are all married to their original partners. Considering the history of the royal family this is a record in itself, but it also adds to the harmony. Each of the four couples have three children, which adds another dozen young people to the number. All but two of them were present. The two absentees had not forgotten their well-loved granny and telephoned with their birthday greetings from South America and Australia where they are presently working. Several of the other grandchildren had brought their own partners so far from being a party of senior citizens it was youthful gathering and a very happy occasion with plenty of laughter and teasing and an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie.

The moral of this wee story is that it adds more dimensions to life if we take an interest in the younger generations. In return many of them respect and love their elders and give their care and support when they can. This should not be expected but it is something to be treasured when it is freely given. One of my own relatives had very little interest in her three grandchildren, who were all making their way in life, and she had good reason to be proud of them. Instead she often moaned about being bored or lonely. Her circle grew smaller and her conversation became more and more limited so even her own generation were less inclined to visit.

When I write my family sagas I try to include different generations, obviously with some romance and love and a few problems to overcome – otherwise there would be no story to tell, but I I strive for the feeling of overall warmth and sometimes I even give the baddies a redeeming feature.

Women's Institute Love Libraries Petition

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

Women's Institute Love Libraries Petition

It is good to know that the Women's Institutes are supporting the petition for Love our Llibraries by signing on line. It is possible to cut and paste the URL  http://www.thewi.org.uk/standard.aspx?id=24427. The closure of many libraries would be a big disadvantage to both children and adults and our country in general. As a writer and a reader I appreciate the support of such an influential organisation, and everyone who can help preserve our public libraries.

I did have a pleasant surprise today from G C Books who organise the sale of books at Wigtown Book Festival at the end of September. All the available copies of A Home Of Our Own and Heart of the Home had sold. So thank you to all who bought my books also to all those who made such a delightful and responsive audience.