Irish Charm

Everyone claims to have some Irish Ancestry, don’t they? Being 25% Irish, I’m always intrigued by stories featuring a bit of Irish authenticity. So I was so thrilled to be invited to join fellow Scot Eilidh Lawrence’s tour for her fabulous short story, Hunger, set on the Oregon Trail.

The talented, lovely Eilidh, who I met in person at the RNA Conference

First of all, Eilidh, welcome to my blog and thanks for being here.
EL: Thank you so much for sharing my story Emily, and for giving me your time! I’m very glad to be here.

Can you tell everyone a little about yourself?
EL: I am an aspiring romance author, songwriter and contributor to the Pink Heart Society (PHS) e-zine. I was a co-founder of #UKRomChat, a weekly live Twitter chat for romance writers, and co-hosted the chat for its first year. In 2018 I finalled in the TARA and WisRWA Fab Five romance writing contests. I’m a former prosecutor and hold a Diploma in Forensic Medical Sciences, but, no, I would not rather be writing crime! I’m all about happy-ever-afters.

Yes, I love a happy ever after, too, even if the characters are put through the mill along the way! And I love all the discussions on #UKRomChat about romance and happy endings! So, onto your story: what appealed to you about the setting?
EL: I wrote the story in response to the prompt of ‘Western Expansion.’ I like having a starting point. I’d never heard the term before and I knew very little about American history, so it seemed like a chance to learn more. I love reading historical fiction and a historical setting appealed to me. The Oregon Trail was an incredibly hard journey and travelers didn’t always survive it, but people undertook it seeking a new start. That felt very powerful. More specifically, a campfire is an intimate setting.

Oooh yes, I love that sense of pioneering and adventure! And I’ve found writing historical fiction is a great chance to learn more through research. How did you go about researching for Hunger?
EL: I was starting pretty much from scratch, so I began with some very basic online research. I narrowed my focus to The Oregon Trail after watching Ken Burn’s: The West, a brilliant documentary series. That’s also where I learned about later in life marriages between Irish Great Hunger survivors. It was a passing reference but gave me the spark of an idea. After that my research had two strands: The Oregon Trail and Irish immigration to America. Everything I learnt fed into the deep sadness in Órlaith and Liam. I got my facts from educational online resources and I watched Westerns set on the Oregon Trail (taking them with a pinch of salt, of course) to add flavour, for example that’s where the reference to dust coating Órlaith’s clothes came from.

I love all those authentic little touches! Often a lot of research is put into a single line of detail in a story. Are you tempted to use the research you’ve already done to expand the story into a novella or novel? I love the interaction between Órlaith and Liam!
EL: Thank you! So true. You’re not the first person to ask that question. I wrote Hunger as a piece of flash fiction. It was intended to be a snapshot. But people keep asking for more… It’s lovely to get that reaction! I have no specific plans to continue Órlaith and Liam’s story at the moment but maybe there will come a point when I sit down with them and ask them to tell me what happens next. Because I don’t know!

I love that, when characters speak to an author! I definitely want to see more of Órlaith and Liam. What else are you working on now?
EL: I’m working on my first novel, an Amish Romance which came out of the Harlequin Love Inspired Amish Blitz. It’s been slow progress, but I’ve taken encouragement from placing in the Fab Five and TARA RWA chapter contests along the way. I’ll be submitting it soon to the Romantic Novelists’ Association New Writers’ Scheme. I’ve also started a Scottish contemporary romance with an #ownvoices aspect. The hero lives with an anxiety disorder. It’s really important to me that people living with mental health conditions are accurately represented in fiction, through well-rounded characters who have their owns stories that don’t start and end with their experience of those conditions.

Yes, that’s so important! Thanks, again, Eilidh, for sharing your story.

And now, for the story itself! “Hunger” by Eilidh Lawrence (aka Laura McKendrick) was a runner-up in the Women’s Weekly Short Story Competition, in association with Mills & Boon. Read on and be enthralled…

The Oregon Trail, near Fort Hall, Idaho, 1849

“Your cooking smells of home.”

The unfamiliar voice drew Órlaith’s attention from the pot where she stewed elk over an open fire. It took a moment for her to realise the man had spoken in Gaedhilge. Shadows danced across his gaunt face. A face she didn’t know.

“I’m Liam.” He bent closer, offering his hand. “From Donegal.” His fingers were long, his grip firm. His dark hair contrasted with his pale skin.

“You’ve the charm of an Irishman, to be sure,” she replied in English. They were in America now. “But we both know half the women in this camp are stewing game tonight. It was a good day for the hunting.”

He laughed, a sound she didn’t hear so much these days.

“Well, there’s none cooking it as well as you.”

A charmer indeed.

She returned her focus to the stew. The scent of wild garlic mingled with the ever-present woody, smoky smell that had clung to her hair and dust-coated clothes for months now.

“It really does smell good.” He hesitated. “Can I buy some?”

She studied him. “I’ve not seen you before.”

“No. We joined you today. My boy was exhausted. We rested, the two of us. Our party went on.” He shrugged. “That’s how it goes.”

“Your boy?” There were so many children on this wretched journey. “How old is he?”

“Danny’s but four years.”

“You both must eat with us. As our guests. No charge.”

“Us?”

“My brother Ruaidhrí and I.” She paused. “We’re all that’s left that were still in Ireland. And there’s my babby, Hope. She’s asleep.” Órlaith nodded towards their canvas-covered prairie schooner. The wagon was the closest thing to home little Hope had experienced so far in her hard, infant life.

“I’m sorry.” A respectful silence hung in the air. The clicking of the cicadas seemed clearer. Then he smiled. “Hope’s a pretty name.”

“Will you sit?” she invited, and he did. “I always wanted a baby girl called Caoimhe. But then I had Hope on the crossing. A babby born on the Western Ocean. Who would’ve thought? We were bound for America. Caoimhe seemed too…”

“Irish.”

A moment of understanding passed between them.

“Yes.”

“And what do they call you?”

“Órlaith.”

“Was it The Hunger took your people, Órlaith?”

“Disease.”

The fire crackled.

“I see.” A horse whinnied, and he turned towards the sound. When his face returned to Órlaith, she saw sincerity etched across his strong features. “My Nancy, she made it through the workhouse. Made it through near-starvation. Made it through the crossing. But she didn’t make it beyond Boston.” A single shake of his head conveyed loss and disbelief. “Cholera. Little Molly too. Buried three thousand miles from home.”

He did see.

“We none of us would’ve expected this, when we were young. This loss.” She picked up a stick and poked the fire. It sparked. “My sister and her husband left in ’44. Went to Oregon to farm. I could never leave, that’s what I thought then. But when my husband Ciarán and my parents died everything became so bleak. It didn’t seem like life would ever get better.”

A dark time. It wasn’t the smoke that caused tears to well in the corners of her eyes.

“There’s such misery in our country,” she continued, a catch in her throat. Their eyes met. Her pain was reflected in his. “That’s when Mary finally convinced us to come join them. My brother-in-law arranged it all. It was a good boat, at least. We were lucky.”

He looked away from her and tugged at the left cuff of his worn shirt. Had he not been on a good boat? She knew of the coffin ships and thanked God she hadn’t given birth in those squalid conditions.

From behind them, Ruaidhrí coughed. “I see you’ve met our new friend.”

She hadn’t noticed her brother’s return.

Ruaidhrí stepped from the edge of the fire’s light and slapped Liam on the back. He made friends easily, always had done.

“Well, I’ll get back to my boy.” Liam stood. “We’ll take you up on your dinner offer.” He glanced at Ruaidhrí. “If your brother doesn’t mind.”

Ruaidhri grinned. “The more the merrier.”

She was in dire need of merriment.

“You’re both very kind.” Liam lingered. “And Órlaith, perhaps later, I might have a dance?”

She looked at the Irishman, tall, not yet old, a survivor. But gentle too, and familiar. Like home. She smiled. “That’d be grand.”

The flames between them flickered and leapt.

I hope you enjoyed reading Hunger as much as I did, and I’m secretly hoping we get to hear more of Órlaith and Liam!

Emily xx

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A publishing contract!

A long, long road!

A bit of news!

It’s with enormous pleasure that I can finally announce I’ve signed a publishing contract! It’s with Wild Rose Press, for one of my Medieval romances. I have plenty of other stories drafted in that period so here’s hoping I’ve found a home for my Medieval stories. I’m so pleased to join the family of Roses!

It’s been a long old road not unlike when I climbed the Great Wall of China two years ago. (I replicated those happy memories in paint, see above.) However I’m not so naive that I think this is the end of the road: it’s just the start.

Like any other control-freak multi-tasker, I have many projects on the go a the once. This year I’ve been immersed in a Regency series. But I’ve loved revisiting the Medieval world of knights, ladies, battles, sieges and of course, the obligatory Alpha Male.

How it happened aka how I turned into a pile of goo

We all remember what we were doing during pivotal moments in our lives. Getting a contract after all the waiting, submitting and bouts of self-doubt was a key point for me. Here’s what happened when I found out during lunchtime at work…

Still recovering from a dental abscess which had necessitated elephant-strength pain meds, I was in the middle of a business trip to London. A fun part of my day job as an actuary involves being filmed discussing case studies on professionalism and ethics with other actuaries for training purposes. Much less stressful than “proper acting”, we sit on a sofa and chat away. The film crew roll the cameras then edit out the shaky bits until they have something useable.

Having just finished filming my bit, my phone pinged while we were having lunch. Even when I saw it had come from the publisher with “congratulations” written in large capitals in the title, I still needed to read it to be sure. I’d experienced a host of near-misses and almost-there’s. So my cynicism index was pretty high. But when I opened the e:mail I shrieked and started hyperventilating in front of colleagues, the rest of the panellists and the entire film crew.

Half an hour after this was taken I’d turned into a pile of emotional goo…

“Phone home” they said. (Bizarrely enough, a boss of mine from way back in the 1990’s once told me I looked like ET). So I did. I was fine until my children cheered down the phone line at which point I burst into tears.

Cue massive loss of dignity.

Low-key celebrating

How did I celebrate? On my own, in a hotel, with a glass of diet coke and a stackload of edits for another project. I was staying overnight in London and the antibiotics for my toothache prevented me from drinking anything more exciting. Still, the fish supper in the hotel restaurant was very tasty.

It certainly wasn’t how I’d envisaged getting the news but as I’ve realised since taking writing seriously, nothing ever turns out how you expect.

So what’s the best thing so far about getting the news? It’s early days yet and the ink’s barely dried on the contract. But the outpouring of support from friends, colleagues and other writers has been overwhelming.

A big nod to the Romantic Novelists’ Association here. Over a hundred fellow authors took the time to congratulate me within hours of posting on social media. A special nod to the wonderful reader who, under the RNA’s “New Writing Scheme” (NWS) critiqued this book. She assured me that it doesn’t suck and told me to go get it published!

So I’m delighted to say I’ll be freeing up a space in the NWS. I’d urge any aspiring romance authors out there to consider joining. It works. It really does.

Even for me.

Emily xxx

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Tanni & Tenacity

I never imagined my first proper blog post would have a grainy selfie or a photo of someone enormously famous. But I couldn’t resist writing about my encounter with a sporting heroine.

Think of a Paralympic athlete, the first name springing to mind is likely to be Baroness Tanni Grey-Thompson. I had the privilege of meeting her earlier this week at a conference where she was the after-dinner speaker. Cue wine-fuelled fan-girl moment when a friend and I snuck over to her table after dessert.

She’s absolutely lovely; gracious, down-to-earth and willing to stay and chat to us: one of those warm, friendly people capable of putting anyone at ease.

Her best quote of the night was “I’ve lost many more races than I’ve won; but I happened to win a few important ones.” For one of her winning races (the 100m in Athens 2004 for sports buffs) she spoke about a rival athlete who’d seen her lose the 800m earlier. The rival approached Tanni, having seen her confidence plummet and gave her words of encouragement ahead of the 100m. When Tanni won the 100m she asked her rival why she’d encouraged her. The response was “because if I was going to win, I’d want to win fairly.”

It made me think about the stress of manuscript submissions and the myth that authors compete against each other. Part of being a writer is getting rejections. OK, that’s a BIG part of being a writer. But it only takes one “yes” to bag that all-important “win.” One rejection doesn’t mean the end of the world, or that you should give up – instead, it moves you closer to that perfect agent or publisher.

The rivalry is interesting. But if a Paralympian can encourage her rival in a world where winning is at the forefront of everything, writers can support each other too. This is where critique partners, reading groups or beta readers, can be invaluable sources of support as well as more formal organisations such as the Romantic Novelists’ Association (RNA).

So “Tenacity” is my keyword today. Never give up, stay positive in the face of rejection and find a network of critique partners. Oh – and if you ever have the chance to chat to a sporting legend, particularly if your courage has been fueled by a glass of wine or two, don’t waste it!

Em 🙂

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