New Book Cover for Forthcoming Novel Caught in Traffic

Writing a book is exciting. Any author will tell you that. Developing the characters, plotting the twists and turns, and seeing the story take shape, with you; the architect of it all. It can also be lonely; frustrating, and at times, discouraging. There will be many re-writes, dozens of readings and endless editing.

I can only speak for myself, but once it is completed, I kind of sit back and think, “Oh, …………. Hey I finished it”. It kind of sneaks up on you in the end, and you finally realise that all the hard work, all the sleepless nights where you wrote from midnight until 6 am have come together and you have the raw makings of a new book.  If you think the hard work is behind you, think again. Now it begins in earnest. There is the foreword, the acknowledgements, the synopsis, the biography, and all the editing, which goes into making it fit for publication. I speak from experience when I say that writing a 300 word synopsis has been known to cause me more aggravation than writing the 90,000 words of a book. I stare blankly at the screen, wracking my brains as to how I am going to cram a description of this entire story into 300 words – you try it, it's not easy!

Not least in all the preparation is the book cover, which is incredibly important. I’m sure you have all heard the saying, “Don’t judge a book by its cover”, but I’m afraid we do, we really do. How many of you have picked up a book in a store simply because you were attracted by the cover? I know I have. In the same way that I have ignored a book because the cover put me off. I’m certainly guilty of judging a book by its cover!

With all three of my books, the cover was in my mind long before the book was completed. For Known to Social Services, that sombre backdrop of high rise flats was always going to be the cover. I also knew that I wanted the colour red to feature as a sharp contrast to the suggested dreariness of the world therein.

The stark cover of Known to Social Services

For Gozo Is the Grass Greener? The cartoon style animation of me, Steve and Ollie the lurcher, was perfectly captured by Michael Martin who is the current illustrator for Fred Basset in the Daily Mail. It was as if he had read my mind J

In complete contrast, the fun cover of Gozo Is the Grass Greener?

Caught in Traffic was no different. I had an image of a child on a beach making sandcastles. I wanted to suggest a place of blue skies, and happy holidays. The book then takes you into a frightening world, where carefree holidays are shattered by the dark and sinister intrusion of the child traffickers. More about the story in a future blog.

For now, I am very proud to unveil my latest book cover, which has been beautifully designed and brought into reality by Samuel Hurt. Check out Sam’s Facebook Page, Misty Fell Productions and find out more about this talented young man. Thank you Sam, excellent job J

Freya 

Exciting New Novel CAUGHT IN TRAFFICK

I am delighted to announce that I have just about completed my latest book. This is my third book to date, and is a sequel to my debut bestseller, Known to Social Services.

The new book is titled, Caught in Traffick and is, as the title suggests, takes the reader into the terrible world of child trafficking. A work of fiction, Caught in Traffic picks up where Known to Social Services left off.

The book is set in mainly in Thailand, and features some characters from the first book, along with many new characters, who you will love to hate.

From an Organised Crime Syndicate with a megalomaniac leader, to abducted children and an intricately tangled web of blackmail, deceit and unimaginable horror, Caught in Traffic will take you on a roller coaster of a journey, complete with twists and turns and culminating in a jaw dropping finale.

So IS Nicholas Bishop the infamous NB – all will be revealed J

Not long now folks – watch this space.

Freya 

Goodnight Wogan

Yesterday, the world awoke to the sad news that we had lost one of Britain’s best loved icons, Sir Terry Wogan.

In a month that has seen the loss of too many much-loved figures, such as Lemmy from Motorhead, the one and only David Bowie, Glenn Frey of The Eagles, Dale Griffin of Mott The Hoople, to name but a few, the news of Terry Wogan’s death was like the final insult. It seemed as if day after day, we would access our social media and almost immediately be open mouthed and exclaiming, “Oh no”, trotting of to break the news to our other half and asking the pointless question, “Guess who’s died now?”

It affected me more than I ever imagined it would.

I cried.

When I reflected as to why this should be, why should I be so affected by the passing of a man, who after all, reached the good age of 77, lived a comfortable life in the public eye, had a loving family, and who I had never met? Why?

I came to the conclusion that Terry Wogan has simply always been there. As much a part of my life as a well loved Uncle. I grew up listening to his Irish blarney every morning before I left for school. I recall my dad sitting at the breakfast table, letting out one of his great guffaws of laughter at something Terry Wogan had said. At the time of course, with hormones coursing through my bloodstream like poison, I would pull a face of utter disgust. “For God’s sake dad” I would opine in my best teenage sneering voice, “It wasn’t THAT funny”. But do you know what? It really was.

When I left home aged only 19, guess what? I abandoned Radio 1, defecting to Terry and Radio 2 and listened to him all the time. He was more than a superb DJ with a sense of timing, a turn of phrase, and a twinkle in his voice as he spoke to us. He was my link with my parents, my home, and my past.

I wrote to him once; I was 21, and shared some anecdote about daily life, but he read it out and I felt elated. Terry Wogan had READ my letter out on the radio. I remember so well my mum ringing me from 80 miles away, “Did you hear it?” she enthused, “He read your letter”. “I know” I beamed, “I know”. Good times.

I lost both my parents when I was in my 20’s. Their loss was a hammer blow, from which I never truly recovered, but Terry was still there and as I listened, I’d think to myself with a smile, “Dad would have liked that” or “Oh mum would have laughed to hear that one”, and so the link continued.

How many of you remember the JR saga of the 80’s? I followed it with absolute delight. Long before we had Facebook, Twitter and the rest, Terry Wogan was uniting the country with his easy wit and absolute charm.

I qualified as a child protection social worker in 2001, and on my way to work, Terry was always with me, and many of my colleagues. He gave us a cheery start to days, which were less than joyous. We’d trickle into the office one by one and often ask, “Did you listen to Terry Wogan this morning?” And there would be laughter, shaking of heads and comments about his repartee. Whether it be Janet and John, or just his well-known characters, Edna Bucket, Lou Smorrels, Dora Jar and my personal favourite Chuffer Dandridge. His double entendre’s were legendary and I would find myself wondering how he got away with some of them, so close were they to the bone.

He will never know how important he was to so many of us, in that small triumph of making us smile in the misery and sadness of our jobs.

Oft times I would be out of the office early, while Terry was still broadcasting. I would literally have to pull over, tears of laughter coursing down my face especially with Janet and John, read in the presence of the ever faithful John “Boggy” Marsh.  Along with Lynn Bowles and Alan Dedicote; the mere mention of their names brought me comfort; it was something reliable, solid and dependable. I remember the feeling of sharp disappointment if I tuned in to find Terry was on holiday and someone else was standing in. I would exclaim in annoyance, no one did the breakfast show like Terry.

As I got older, there was absolutely no doubt, I had become a TOG – one of Terry’s Old Gits. I wondered what my mum and dad would have said about THAT.

Of course, Terry’s talents were not confined to radio. A supreme TV broadcaster, he had us tuning into the terrible Eurovision Song Contest, simply to hear his acerbic commentary and comments. ………….. Priceless.

His presentation of the BBC’s annual Children in Need was also a “must watch” event. There was just something so British about the whole thing. You had to be a part of it.

To say he will be missed is an understatement. He was part of the fabric of the country, a true legend, with real talent.

For me, he was the thread that linked me to times gone by, times, I could revisit, simply by hearing that lovely Irish brogue, which never failed to bring a smile.

Now he’s gone and really, it just won’t be the same, not ever.

My thoughts and condolences are with his family at this time 

Goodnight Sir Terry, and thank you so very much for your gift to us all. xxxxx

Freya