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Way back in 2005 I wrote a book called ROSE OF RUBY STREET. It was my second book and I’d had time to cut my teeth on my first novel LIZZIE OF LANGLEY STREET. I was a rookie to this genre, for LIZZIE sprang from my own family history. A vast East End tribe of Skeels and Taphouse from the Isle of Dogs, East London, UK, is my heritage. Costermongers, fruiterers, dock and factory workers. In every family photo there is a Del Boy, a Rodney, a Harold Steptoe, and in my own personal experience, a much darker influence. So when I wrote ROSE, I expressed the first layer of this darkness. I didn’t actually plan it that way, but I so related to Rose and the predicament she found herself in, she was perhaps, the easiest and most familiar of all my heroines to write. And when Simon&Schuster decided to bring the novel back to life in celebration of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee – well, you can imagine how I felt. Shocked, stunned, honoured, but so very rewarded in the trust and honesty that I gave to my character. Then came the news this morning that, for the first time Sainsburys has taken a Rivers book (EAST END JUBILEE) and I’m thrilled. JUBILEE has gone in to Tesco at No. 10 and is with Asda, and WHS High St – with a promotion of – ‘Love This Book Or Your Money Back’! (Eeek! Hope that doesn’t happen.) WHS Travel has a Front of Store Promotion and Gardners and Bertrams who supply the independent bookstores, have piled in too. God bless Amazon.co.uk – who have promoted JUBILEE with a lovely price of £3.91 with Super Saver Delivery. The simultaneous eBook edition will be available across all etailers, including Kindle and the iBookstore. Well, all I can say is WoW, and thank you to Simon&Schuster for putting their heart and soul into what seems to be a rare animal, a souvenir book of a very great day, (Queen’s Diamond Jubilee) born from the story of an East End housewife’s tragic dilemma on June 2nd 1953, (the Queen’s coronation), almost 60 years ago. But most importantly, my thanks go to all you guys, readers who’ve stuck with me through the ups and downs of the last few years ever since ROSE OF RUBY STREET came to the shelves. And still you fork out on the books in such tough economic times. Bless you all. This post is for you -and for Rose. Love Carolx

On sale at all stores mentioned above and online in paperback and Kindle at AMAZON

This pic of Hollywood movie actor Tony Curtis, really epitomizes the 1950′s. The moody look, casual broad shoulders and stance, sizzling sexuality – it’s all part of that dynamic age and the decade in which I placed my novel EAST END JUBILEE . Out next month, the story is by no means Hollywood-esque, but more East End drama and family conflict, set against the backdrop of the present Queen’s coronation. One of the reasons I wrote this story was because of the post-war changes to our countries. The spread of  a new dynamism and entrepreneurial spirit that my lead male figure possesses in abundance. Unfortunately this enthusiasm gets Eddie Weaver into trouble and like all the best stories, tests the love and trust of his nearest and dearest. The 50′s were full of such stories, one of the most famous being Rebel Without a Cause, where James Dean played a mixed-up and defiant teenager, challenging the system. My Eddie isn’t as glam or moody, or oozing Dean’s on-screen chemistry, but he’s a wheeler dealer, a Dell Boy, and has his own charm. Sadly, the police have marked his card and in the midst of all the celebration, Eddie is nicked! Now it’s down to my heroine to prove his innocence. Bring on the heavies to test her resolve and Rose Weaver either has to bow to the bad men, or – and need I say more? – fight tooth and nail to resist them. I like to think I’ve drawn inspiration from the greats;  Ava Gardner, Kim Novak, Marilyn Monroe, Marlon Brando, Steve McQueen, Kirk Douglas – the list of 50′s stars is endless. So I hope that the cocktail I serve up in EAST END JUBILEE (formerly titled Rose of Ruby Street) will do justice to this celebratory year and bring back a little of the 1950′s magic and everything that was so excitingly new and inspirational, after the seemingly endless years of war.

AMAZON

At the heart of every good book is a love story – that’s what I think – and feel. Love eternal, love tested, love betrayed, loved survived, loved just once, or twice, or the third time around. First love and last love … yes, for me, love is the driving force of each novel I write and more often than not, that love in all its complexities, is tested. The book I am about to start writing now will take me nine months -  the span of a human pregnancy. The baby grows, flourishes in the womb, just like a plot in my brain, hopefully fed by ‘feeling’; the unconscious mind and all its mysteries. I always see the last scene first. Odd that, but true. It flashes up once I send off the edits of the previous book (as I am disengaging from the characters and the world I have created around them.) Writers often say they are sad to see them go. But I can’t wait to get to the next world, to meet the new faces and acquaint myself with the trials, tribulations and most importantly, the love that is shared by the two central characters. So I am very honoured to be part and parcel of a publisher’s list, Simon&Schuster, who have produced, for me, the most beautiful record of a real-life love story. The book is called “Worth Fighting For” and is written by the wife of the late Patrick Swayze, Lisa Niemi. One of his movies, “Ghost” has remained my all time favourite. I was devastated to hear of his passing, but if the movie is anything to go by, the energy of this brilliant actor and devoted husband, is eternal and certainly comes through in the book. So if anyone is keen to read a unique love story, I would heartily recommend this. Here’s what Simon&Schuster have to say about Lisa’s story.
“Lisa Niemi and Patrick Swayze first met as teenagers at his mother’s dance studio. He was older and just a bit cocky; she was the gorgeous waif who refused to worship the ground he walked on. It didn’t take long for them to fall in love. Their thirty-four year marriage — which they explored together in The Time of My Life — was a uniquely passionate partnership.
Now, for the first time, Lisa will share what it was like to care for her husband as he battled Stage IV pancreatic cancer, and will describe his last days when she simply tried to keep him comfortable. She writes searingly about her grief in the aftermath of Patrick’s death, and candidly discusses the challenges that the past fourteen months without him have posed.
But while this is an emotionally honest and unflinching depiction of illness, death, and loss, it is also a hopeful and life-affirming exploration of the power of the human spirit. Lisa shows that no matter how dark the prospect of another day may seem, there are always reserves of strength to call upon, and the love shared between two people will never truly die.”
And yes, I truly believe this. And hope that in some small way, each of the Rivers novels are able to explore the theme that all life is energy, and that energy goes on in all forms, eternally.

Lisa’s book WORTH FIGHTING FOR
Carol’s latest novel (May 2012) EAST END JUBILEE

Question; would you like to see your book turned into a TV drama?

Answer; yes, if the book was given to the master of the art of adaptation, Andrew Davies!

This extraordinarily clever writer knows exactly what it takes to make a success of screenplays. Pride and Prejudice, Middlemarch, Vanity Fair, Wives and Daughters and Tipping the Velvet are just some of his works, my own personal favourite being Tipping the Velvet. A wonderful, enthralling and brave novel, Andrew made the very best of the historical detail and brought the characters to life on screen. Along with the amazing costumes and attention to detail, the moments of visual drama are unequalled in Andrew’s hands. “Ripping bodices, heaving bosoms, breeches and cavorting in carriages – it’s all in a day’s work for Andrew Davies,” we are told and it’s the absolute truth. British television’s master of literary adaptation has us all in the palm of his hand. One thing he did say in an interview that has stuck with me and it’s something I remind myself of each day as I write. Our stories should come out of our characters, as we invest our feelings in someone for ‘the journey’ – so that we take the journey with them. And isn’t that what escapism is? Going on the adventure, riding the surf, swimming with dolphins, scaling the heights and testing our strengths. These are the outward actions of what’s really going on inside. Our feeling…emotions, these are what make up our lives. We have so many fine dramas on television and sometimes don’t realize that many of them are adaptations from novels. For any aspiring writer, there are truly great mentors in the world of TV. Andrew Davies for one. Very soon we’ll be seeing another new drama on ITV, called Titanic. This is a brand new four-part adaptation, written by Julian Fellowes to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the doomed voyage. Will this be Downton Abbey at sea? If it is, the formula must certainly work as we are hooked into the characters’ motivations as the ship hits the iceberg and begins to sink. We never tire of the jaw-dropping tensions in our British dramas. It’s thanks to our top-notch screenwriters, like Andrew Davies and Julian Fellowes who make it all possible. Not that my books would ever be good enough to be considered for a screenplay – but a girl can dream – and watch bucketfuls of TV drama at the same time!

I was feeling a little sorry for myself yesterday; for a month I’ve been wrestling with revisions. Timeframe, character, plot, pace and dialogue, all has to be changed. When I was a kid, I remember pulling a thread from the middle of my jumper and watching the rest of the jumper unravel. Novel writing is the same. Corrections in the first chapters, have repercussions throughout. And my story – as usual a hefty saga – had already undergone many of my own rewrites. And now, it hadn’t even reached my editor’s desk. The initial revisions are from my agent, with whom I have forged a long and trusted professional relationship. So why do I feel as though I’m entombed in a distressed submarine on the seabed, minus the crew? Perhaps because I have only myself to work out the problems and make the ship buoyant again. Otherwise I’m doomed. The worst is yet to come when these (hopefully) adequate repairs reach my editor. Meanwhile, I am left with vice-like self-doubt, shredded confidence and a terror of writing. I plunge into research for the next contracted book, the air so refined in my submarine, that I’m convinced that this unwritten novel will also be an insurmountable task. I see but don’t see, read but don’t read, make plans and plots that kaleidoscope into failure. And then, THEN, something heavenly happens. A sonar voice breaks through; there’s an interview with Philip Pullman on the telly. I emerge  from my sealed chamber and low and behold, what happens next shifts my consciousness totally.  The master writer tells us that it’s nothing at all for his first chapter to be changed 14 times – before it even leaves his desk. Editing, sculpting, honing again and again, was how he created such a believable Lyra in his stunning “Golden Compass” novels. Edit, edit, edit.  I love this man. I love the rest of the interview. He inspires me, fuels me, uplifts me. What am I whinging about? I’m in the privileged position of having professional critique so how lucky is that? If I have to jump through the hoop dozens more times, I know that eventually, I’ll lift off from the seabed and rise slowly to the surface. When that hatch opens (and the story is accepted) I shall  gasp in the oxygen, sun, light and warmth. All the painstaking edits will be worth it. Writing is editing. Editing and more editing. It’s only that. Why do I keep forgetting? Philip, thank you for reminding me.

 Coming in May

AMAZON

The Queen took the throne on February 6 1952 and her coronation took place on June 2 1953. To celebrate 60 years of the Queen’s reign, her Diamond Jubilee will take place in 2012. Rose of Ruby Street was a very popular book when it was first published and stands the test of time. So with a fresh title “East End Jubilee” and gorgeous new cover, the book will be on the shelves approximately May/June of this year. To see why this book will be perfect for the time and setting, read on:

June 2nd, 1953. The residents of Ruby Street in London’s East End are celebrating the new Queen’s coronation. It’s a day of joy and laughter, a new beginning for a nation still in the grip of rationing, still suffering the aftermath of the Blitz. But for Rose Weaver, the day ends in tragedy when her husband Eddie is arrested on suspicion of theft. It’s only the first of several shocks as Rose discovers some unpleasant facts about the man she married eight years before, the man she thought she knew so well. Struggling to provide for herself and her two daughters, Rose realises that she’ll need the help of family, friends and the good neighbours of Ruby Street if she’s to have any chance of pulling through. And when a handsome salesman knocks at her door, it’s hard to resist temptation.

Valentine Day’s Love Poem

The Highwayman

by Alfred Noyes

THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i’ the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o’ the tawny sunset, before the rise o’ the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George’s men came matching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
“Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love’s refrain .

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i’ the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

This week marks the 200th anniversary of Charles Dickens’s birth. He was a writer most of us have read as some point, or seen his books dramatized or listened to an audio of his works. So apart from taking a great pleasure in joining in with the virtual celebrations, I’m holding one of my own. Here at my workplace, with the blink and wink of technology around me, I sit quietly, thinking of this great man. The body of mouth-watering stories he gave us is vast. I concentrate on one, Great Expectations, and visualize Pip and his meeting with the convict,  Abel Magwitch, on the marsh. This was always my favourite scene, before the book got going. And I’ve drawn from the “feeling” many times, as I’ve written The Baddie. Millions of writers, actors and dramatists have done the same as I and I’ll wager that Charles Dickens has been recalled by the power of thought to this earth, so frequently, that he now treads a red ethereal carpet to our minds, souls and spirits. So today, I’m thanking him for being such a great mentor. He wrote with gut instinct and that’s what I admire and envy the most. Pip had trust in a man he hardly knew. The Baddie who was to change his life after only a short but unforgettable meeting. This trust was the premise of an incredible story. Pip also placed his trust in a young woman, Estella, who, haunted by her past, was in danger of becoming a Baddie. However, through love and compassion, the Baddie is transformed and brought into the light. So Charles, thank you for this one aspect of the written word that had helped me through many dark hours of plot construction. So much more of course in his writing, to be grateful for. But, with the book I shall have published this year in May, The Baddie returns in EAST END JUBILEE. Like Dickens’s heart-stoppingly brilliant character of the lost convict, I create Eddie Weaver, husband to young Rose and devoted father, as a man seeking to make his family’s life better, but unable to stick to the letter of the law. And now I’m smiling as I close this blog. I’m just a rookie at all this stuff and can’t hold a candle to the Great Man’s thinking. But I do have access to my imagination and like to believe it is there that we meet and discuss all The Baddies down the ages. Once again, Happy birthday Charles Dickens. And thank you.

It’s great to be finishing a book at the beginning of a New Year, knowing that very soon I will be submitting it to my editor. But I have very happy memories of October of 2011, when my last book IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER, was published in hardback, paperback and Kindle and crept into the Sunday Times chart.

IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER is set in 1919 and tells of a family in London’s East End, suffering the traumatic effects of the Great War. As I have written before, the specific issue is of soldiers deserting the front line and the attitude of society towards their unfortunate families. Digging deep into the subject, some of the personal testimonies I researched were heartrending. They also mirrored similar accounts of our troops and their families in the most recent of wars like Iraq and Afghanistan.

What was once called shell shock is now known as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Now at least, PTSD is recognized as a serious condition and can be treated, whereas in 1919 it was viewed with contempt and shunned. When these young men couldn’t function, they were classed as deserters or malingerers. Some were executed, a tragic injustice. I hope the story will help to enlighten readers as the novel unfolds.

The book I am about to complete draws a similar link between past and present. It involves the promise of celebrity and fame sought by youngsters of the 1930′s and the dangers of unscrupulous opportunists using these young people for their own gain. History repeats itself in a never-ending cycle. Fame and fortune, war and glory, are now transformed by technology. But always, the emotions remain the same.

With each book I’ve tried to capture some of these emotions. And most importantly, I believe that no matter how hopeless a situation may seem, it’s always possible for love and the strength of family and friends to redeem us in the end. Perhaps, this most of all, is a message that, with my writing, I would like to take into the New Year!

June 1941, Isle of Dogs, London.
In the dark days following the Blitz, happiness visits young Pearl Jenkins as she celebrates her marriage to Jim Nesbitt.
But what should be a joyful occasion is marred when a fight breaks out between Jim and Ricky Winters, an unwelcome visitor from Pearl’s past. And to Pearl’s horror, the new beau of her wayward younger sister Ruby.
Increasingly uneasy at staying at home when other men are off fighting for their country, Jim enlists, leaving Pearl at home – alone, pregnant, and at Ricky’s mercy… .
Together, Pearl and Ruby must bring up baby Cynthia while struggling to make ends meet and dodge the doodlebugs. And all the time, Pearl must hide the dark secret she harbours, one which would tear the two sisters apart as well as her marriage.
Then tragedy strikes both on the home front and in the trenches and Pearl is forced to fight like never before to keep her family safe.

Hope everyone enjoys!