The Interview

My next guest on my blog is a lady who is so talented, I wouldn't know where to start. I had the pleasure of knowing Patricia when I lived in Dublin. I attended a creative writing course that Patricia was giving in Dundrum, Dublin and I remember the group did not want the course to end, in fact we went back for three terms. On July 3rd, Patricia launched her new book, The Interview. Read on to find out more and enjoy an excerpt of this excellent book.

Patricia O’Reilly comes to writing books via the route of freelance journalism and radio documentaries and plays. She has long been fascinated by Eileen Gray, who is the subject of many of her literary works. Her previous novels, also inspired by real life, include A Type of Beauty, the story of Kathleen Newton (long listed

for Historical Novel Society Award 2012) and Time and Destiny.

In addition to fiction writing, Patricia is a highly regarded creative writing tutor at UCD and elsewhere. She lives in Dublin.

So what is this book, The Interview about?

Paris, 1972. Eileen Gray’s Destiny Screen sells at auction for the highest price ever paid for a ‘modern’ antique. After living reclusively for decades, the spotlight of the international media is trained on her. She is adamant. She will not be interviewed. 

Bruce Chatwin, rising star of Fleet Street and recently appointed to The Sunday Times magazine, charms his way into an interview. During the course of their conversation they recognise parallels between their lives and a connection between their souls.

The interview is never published. Chatwin dies in 1989, taking the secrets of what transpired between them to his grave. In The Interview, Patricia O’Reilly imagines what took place between these two fascinating and enigmatic characters.

Now for a taste of this wonderful novel.

Excerpt:  The Interview - Chapter 16

This is about Eileen Gray’s relationship with Marie-Louise Damien, the daughter of a gendarme and the nightclub singer who took Paris by storm during World War I

In the morning Eileen and Damia rose as late as Eileen could bear, but not before loving and laughing in the rumple of sheets and tangle of pillows, Damia wrestling Eileen until she had her enveloped in her strong white arms, refusing to allow her to go to her workroom. Damia hated mornings and by keeping her eyes shut and the shutters closed over she would pretend it was still night. She only came alive after noon and did not function until she had drunk several extra-strong bowls of coffee. Eileen on the other hand was a dawn riser, and she did her best work either in the early hours of the morning or late at night. As a couple their circadian rhythms couldn’t be more incompatible. They were mismatched in other ways too – more incompatible than compatible – although Eileen determinedly centred on their harmony.

With Damia’s cheetah on a leash, they’d wander along the rue de Faubourg Saint Honoré, stopping off at some fashionable café for coffee. Initially Eileen was embarrassed by the attention they received, and, with bent head, she would retreat into the background. As she was invariably holding the cheetah, she had little chance of remaining anonymous or of distancing herself from Damia’s celebrity status. Damia was so animated and extrovert that it was difficult not to be caught up in her enthusiasm as she dispensed joyous smiles and warm handshakes, assuring everyone within earshot how happy she was to have the opportunity of meeting her public during daylight hours.  

PATRICIA SIGNING AT HER RECENT LAUNCH

Sometimes of an afternoon – when it seemed the sun always shone from a blameless blue sky – they’d drive up and down the Avenue Champs-Élysées with the cheetah stretched across the back seat of the motor and Damia sitting in front with Eileen. With the fringed tail of her scarf flying in the soft breeze and her hand resting on Eileen’s knee. she would sing loudly and teasingly and over-dramatically ‘Tu ne Sais pas Aimer’, and Eileen would smile her secret smile and pretend not to notice.

The avenue was Eileen’s favourite street. She loved its exclusive shops, polite bustle and the lines of clipped horse-chestnut trees along its pavements, and she was intrigued by the source of its name: Elysian Fields, the place of the blessed, according to Greek mythology – ‘La plus belle avenue du monde’ – for her it truly was the most beautiful avenue in the world.

Melting with desire, Eileen tried valiantly to meet her lover’s needs by turning away from her drawing board and sitting for endless hours in endless nightclubs. Commissioning the delightful Paul Poiret, who was the toast of stylish Parisian women, to create brocade outfits suitable for nightlife gaiety, she entered as fully as she could into the spontaneous, crazy escapades that invigorated Damia and drove her act to new heights of passion. Such behaviour was anathema to Eileen. Despite the impulsiveness of her creativity, she was happiest with an orderly life – with punctuality, regular meals and appointments carefully entered in her diary.”

The Interview published by New Island Books is available in all good bookshops;

 from Amazon books

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Interview-Patricia-OReilly/dp/1848403488; 

and from www. http://newisland.ie/bookshop/

I would like to thank Patricia for visiting today and also to thank her for all the encouragement I received when attending her writing course many years ago. 

Meet writer Kate Robbins

Today I have the honour of bringing to you a wonderful writer Kate Robbins who released Promised to the Highlander with Tirgearr Publishing recently which is part of The Highland Chiefs series. Below are an excerpt from her book for you to enjoy and a short synopsis of what it is all about in Promised to the Highlander, just to whet the appetites.  I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.

Nessia Stephenson's world was safe until a threat from a neighbouring clan forces her to accept a betrothal to a man whose family can offer her the protection she needs. The real threat lies in her intense attraction to the man who arranged the match—the clan's chief and her intended’s brother, Fergus MacKay.

When powerful warlord Fergus MacKay arranges a marriage for his younger brother, William, he has no idea the price will be his own heart. Fergus is captivated by the wildly beautiful Nessia, a woman he can never have.

When the feud between the MacKay and Sutherland clans escalates, Nessia, William, and Fergus all must make sacrifices for their future. Longing and loss, honour and duty. How can love triumph under such desperate circumstances?

Excerpt from Kate's book,

William paced while Fergus leaned back in his chair with his long legs stretched out and his arms crossed over his chest. Stephenson was late, not by much, but enough to make William fidget and Fergus take notice. Their three younger siblings, Freya who was in her sixteenth year, John who was fourteen, and eleven-year-old Stephen, waited as well, all in various states of impatience.

The great hall was large and welcoming with dark wooden beams framing the ceiling and walls. Fergus had counted the eighteen beams along the length of the room about a hundred times. William had worn a permanent path on the wide plank floor in front of the red sandstone hearth beneath the many MacKay hunting trophies. Young John sighed again.

“You know, for a man who isn’t eager to meet his future wife, you’ve got quite a set of nerves there lad,” Fergus said to William.

William straightened his linen shirt and smoothed his tunic as he glared at Fergus. Yet, the comment was absorbed and William ceased his pacing to sit on a chair near the fire. Fergus watched his brother adjust his belt again. The young man wore his usual dress, but had taken greater pains today to perfect his appearance. Fergus glanced down at his linen shirt and leather sleeveless tunic. William’s long hair was tied at his nape while Fergus’s was left hanging loose. Fergus recalled having to take extra pains upon his betrothal. Thankfully, those days had passed and he needn’t overly worry anymore. A young lass would surely find William’s neat, respectable appearance appealing. He hoped so, but before he could dwell on it further a servant entered, announcing the arrival of Thomas Stephenson, his daughter Nessia and several of their clansmen.

William sprang to his feet and crossed the floor in a few quick strides to greet them. He continued to fidget as Fergus sauntered up from behind.

“Thomas! Welcome. We thought we’d have to send out a search party soon.” Fergus led the stout man into the great hall.

“Aye, the road was a bit rough with a wagon in tow.”The man’s brow was streaked with sweat and he looked weary from his travels.

“We’ve had a lot of rains this harvest, there’s no doubting that.” In truth he would have gone searching himself had another hour passed. Earlier that day he’d heard more rumours about Ronan Sutherland. Apparently, the lad had agreed to his father’s suggestion and would commence his campaign in the coming days.

Fergus sensed William stiffen beside him as Thomas began the introductions.

“Fergus, William, this is my brother Neville and these three are my sons, Colin, Robert, and Camden my youngest. And this is my daughter, Nessia.”

Fergus acknowledged each man in turn. When the introduction came to the girl and his gaze fell on her, his breath caught in his throat. With black hair and bright blue eyes, she stood proudly before him with her chin lifted and all the regal confidence of a noblewoman. She displayed no fear or reservation at all, something which was unusual in most men he met, but was more so in a woman. The gentler sex usually cowered before him—not this lass.

Fergus stared at her, his heart drumming hard inside his chest. His guts clenched as if he’d been punched. He had to force himself from moving toward her to touch her hair, which looked like spun silk, for surely it could not be real.

Fergus remembered his brother then, and tore his gaze from her to find William’s eyes wide and his jaw slacked. An unexpected pang ran through him. When he

turned back it was to find her still staring at him, seemingly unabashed for staring openly at a man. A bold one, then. Fergus drew his brows together. What did she want?

To buy Kate's book go to the following links below, 

E-book available at these links.

Now for a bit about the author, who is Kate Robbins?  

Kate Robbins writes historical romance novels out of pure escapism and a love for all things Scottish, not to mention a life-long enjoyment of reading romance.

Kate loves the research process and delving into secondary sources in order to blend authentic historical fact into her stories. She has traveled to Scotland twice and visited the sites described in her Highland Chiefs series.

Her Highland Chiefs series is set in the early fifteenth century during the reign of James Stewart, first of his name.

Kate is the pen name of Debbie Robbins who lives in St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada with her man-beast and two man-cubs.


Many thanks Kate for dropping by and wishing you great success with your Highland Chiefs series.

M is for May, Mary and Memories.

When I was little at school we always had a May alter to Our Lady, Mary. Each day we would bring in flowers and not necessarily garden flowers but daisies and buttercups or weeds if they looked pretty. We placed them in front of her statue. Then we would sing Queen of the May or some other hymn that honoured Our Lady. It was a simple but beautiful ritual each school morning.

Ballinspittal grotto

I remember having my own little alter at home, with a small statue of her and put my offerings of a flower from my mother’s garden in an eggcup that acted as a vase! Most homes then had their own alters and some still do.

It is an age old tradition in Ireland to visit a grotto or shrine in honour of Our Lady three times during the month of May and ask for her blessings. It is something I like to do and a few days ago, although late in the month, I went with some of my family on our trip to see Our Lady.

Our first port of call was to Ballinspittal, Cork. This beautiful grotto was in all the media in 1985 when there were reports of the statue moving.

Bandon

Whatever you believe it is a lovely grotto to visit. We had our picnic with us and sat at the tables there in glorious sunshine and had our lunch. We moved on to Bandon and up the steep hill to St. Patrick’s church, where we lit a few candles in front of Our Lady’s shrine.
Then on route home we paid our final call to the local Blessed Well in Ballyhea, Charleville. It really is a secret garden and a place of peace.

Ballyhea, Charleville

We usually make a day out of this old tradition and stop off in various towns along our route to shop and look at places of interest. This year we stopped in Innishannon and who did we meet but the lovely writer Alice Taylor, author of so many popular books, her latest being The Gift of A Garden.

Courtesy of The O'Brien Press

After our chat with her and asking her to stand in for a photo hadn’t my batteries in the camera died a death but hey the memories live on.

Happy Writing 

Guest Interview with David O'Brien

This morning I welcome David O'Brien to my blog for a chat. Earlier this week I introduced Dave during the #MyWritingProcessBlogHop, he will be hosting the blog hop on Monday 19^th so do remember to go read his thoughts on writing. But for now let’s sit back and have a chat with David and get to know more about him.

David O'Brien

Mary Bradford:  Have you a favourite author?

David O’Brien:  I think Hemingway was my favourite for a long time, and hasn't really been replaced. I'm a big fan of Hardy, despite a bad experience at school with The Mayor of Casterbridge, but that world is a little too distant to me. Whereas the things Hemingway wrote about are more immediate, and apart from war, thank God, I've experienced a lot of them to some degree. That allows you to see just how expert he is at crafting his stories.

MB: When did you start writing, are you a full-time writer?

DO’B: I started writing poetry as a teenager and soon branched out into short stories, but prefer to write novels, because unlike Hemingway, and more like Hardy, I am very wordy when I write. It takes a great effort to cut things out, even when I know they're superfluous. I am not a full-time writer, though I give more of my time to writing now that I am only teaching part-time this year, and have had my first novel accepted for publication

.

MB: Do you have a set time for writing? Are you a morning or evening writer?

DO’B: I am a disaster! I write when I have time and the inclination and the energy all at once. I am lucky that the inclination is nearly always there, so it's just a matter of having time while I still have the energy. I'd love to be one of those people, who can get up at 5am and do their writing before the world awakens, but I love my sleep too much, and I stay up too late at night - I blame that on the Spanish timetable, but it's a lack of discipline, really.

MB: Tell us a little about your latest work.

DO’B: Paul is the oldest of a new generation of a race of people, who the rest of us would call werewolves, if we knew of their existence. They are hidden in plain sight, though, as they are identical in appearance to Caucasians. They differ physiologically, however, in having much stronger lunar rhythms, to the point where during the three days and nights of a full moon they are almost completely controlled by their hormonal instincts. They have been persecuted for centuries and the remnants of the race have escaped Eastern Europe but are so dwindled that Paul has been given leadership of a group of young men who must seek wives outside their own kind. The Pack, as they call themselves, has roamed the city for years, and Paul has done well in keeping them controlled and out of trouble. Paul has always known he must settle down and leave the pack to roam under someone else's leadership. But when he meets Susan, someone he instantly recognises as a potential life mate, he discovers that actually handing over control is going to be hard to do. More difficult than that is the step of telling Susan the secret of his identity - something his family insist he do, so that Susan can decide for herself if she wants to marry what she'd have called a monster. Not only is it hard to voice something he has always hidden, but he is afraid that she will be abhorred by him once she finds out the truth.

For her part, Susan believes Paul is the perfect man - besides his juvenile tradition of going off drinking with his mates every month. She wants him to give all that up, but sees that Paul is a creature of habit, and that it will be hard to settle him down completely. However, she discovers she is pregnant and decides that Paul has to decide between continuing to act like an adolescent every month, and becoming a grown man and father who stays at home. 

MB: Do your books require much research?

DO’B: It depends. Most of my books have something of science and ecology in them, so they need a certain amount of fact checking, just to back up the general ideas that are in the back of my mind from my academic life. Leaving the Pack needed little extra information because it's physiology of the werewolves is imagined, and only loosely based on the little biochemistry I know. My next novel, Five Days on Ballyboy beach (which I am currently working on editing to make it digestible!) only required a few paragraphs about surfing added to bits and pieces of real experience and imagined scenery. My long-term WIP, Palu and the Pyramid Builders though does require a lot of research. It is set in the Pre-Columbian Caribbean, and the setting is based somewhat on a holiday in Guatemala and Honduras, as well as short trips to Mexico and the Greater Antilles, I don't know near enough about that environment to be able to just pull things from memory. So I've been taking notes on several books and plan to read more when I get back to it.

MB: Where can we buy/see your work?

DO’B: Here are some links to my blog and places where you can buy Leaving the Pack.

David JM O'Brien's website

Leaving the Pack

Tirgearr Publishing

David JM O'Brien on Facebook

D O'B: Thanks for having me on your blog and for asking such interesting questions!

MB: It has been my pleasure David. Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions.