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| Author as a Child dreaming Dreams ... |
From the moment my fingers could hold a pencil and I learned to write, words coursed gleefully through my veins, spilling onto the virgin page from a place deep within, My mother taught me to write long before I stepped inside a school. She shared my passion. Both my parents were Wordsmiths. They understood the power of the written word. My bedroom quickly filled with all the classics alongside collections of Enid Blyton. I was in awe, surrounded by all these great names, eager to know what they had to say ... and to learn. The local library was a magical place. It stood alone, a monument marking the best works of writers resting within. Every Saturday my father and I went to choose reading material for the week ahead. But once through the glass doors, I could only stand and stare, caught in the annuls of history, hesitantly walking a familiar path between portals leading to worlds far beyond my wildest imagination. How could I choose just three of these wonderful worlds to take home from such a vast collection? Characters called to me, locked within pages which held them trapped. I had the power to release them, to set them free to share their stories, making them a part of me.
'Choose us ...' they'd cry.
'We have so much to tell you, so much you should know ...'
Promises. Hope. Stories of life stretching beyond distant horizons. Inspired, already having peeked at illustrations offered as windows into the heart of these new worlds; I couldn't wait to reach home where immediately I settled to write, words spilling onto the page as I caught hold of an adventure of my own making.
I still have these early stories ... stepping stones to the Author I would become.
Every book has a story about how it came into being ... and as I open the door to past memories, reaching in for clues, I find I'm standing in another library. This time each portal is waiting to lead me on a different kind of journey, back to where the story of each one of my books began. And so it begins:
'Once upon a daydream ...'.
As we pick up the pace, we move with the little child that was, on through the years, to the point at which her first books are published. It was a long time in the making!
'Once upon a daydream ...'.
As we pick up the pace, we move with the little child that was, on through the years, to the point at which her first books are published. It was a long time in the making!
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| First official photograph as author of a series of three books |
Becoming a published author was a dream come true.
Imagine a small child, legs caught in calipers, clomping into the silence of a small library, eyes firmly following the avenues of books, wondering where to begin. In her eyes, each was a portal. Every page taking her a step closer to another world - a world where perhaps she would be accepted as an equal. Maybe they could provide answers to her many questions bubbling just below the surface, offer a hiding place to escape bullies, show her a way out of a world where she felt isolated, vulnerable, insecure, unable to understand why it was happening to her, how to stop it, what her future might otherwise hold. All the while, her mind worked on gathering information, storing it in a place where later she could refer to those feelings and the abusive acts behind them, using them to the power of good.
Imagine in later years, stripped of confidence and self-respect, trying to find a sense of identify and freedom to simply be herself, she is confronted by a Careers Counsellor demanding to know what she'll do when she leaves school, intent on guiding her down a structured well-trodden path of life leading into a world of employment.
'You want to be .... What?'
'An author? Oh come on Girl, get your head out the clouds! That's hardly sensible, now is it? An Author indeed! Things like that don't happen to people like us. Yes, it's good to have a dream ... a hobby ... something to do in your spare time. But we're talking now about what you're going to do to earn a living, to make your way in the world. Now, let's clear your mind of such idiotic notions, and find something suitable for someone like you.'
'Someone like you!'
That was the phrase that stuck in my mind. I had a classic case of 'girl with her head in the clouds' syndrome with little hope of finding work. In truth, all I wanted was to marry the boy next door, raise a family, live happy ever after ... and write! Born with disabilities, it seems no-one expected me to achieve very much. I wasn't going to walk without aids. Or drive a car. I needed to accept my limitations, accept the box I'd been ticked into without seeking another niche in life. But then, they didn't know. They didn't realise the power of thought ... of imagination ... of belief ... of what writing could achieve!!
That was the phrase that stuck in my mind. I had a classic case of 'girl with her head in the clouds' syndrome with little hope of finding work. In truth, all I wanted was to marry the boy next door, raise a family, live happy ever after ... and write! Born with disabilities, it seems no-one expected me to achieve very much. I wasn't going to walk without aids. Or drive a car. I needed to accept my limitations, accept the box I'd been ticked into without seeking another niche in life. But then, they didn't know. They didn't realise the power of thought ... of imagination ... of belief ... of what writing could achieve!!
Years passed. I continued to write copiously each day. I'd written many stories, even had a couple of articles published in magazines. Now, as a married woman, I pushed the boundaries, worked my way outside the box to write my first book: 'A Crying Game' based on personal experience. Personal experience? But this was the early eighties ... you weren't supposed to do that ... not then anyway!! But then, I was different. They'd told me so often enough. So okay, I'd be different! In just six weeks, words spilled out of me, a cathartic experience, unleashing all the turmoil and emotion hidden for too long. The catalyst for this sudden startling revelation was the birth of my auburn-haired baby daughter born against all odds, after being told I couldn't have children. Something else I wasn't meant to do! But now, this was me, not just stepping outside the box, but leaving that wretched box behind; realising miracles really can happen ... they can even happen to me!! It was a wake-up call to be sure, and the start of something which was to grow beyond my wildest dreams ...
My daughter was 10 months old when we moved as a family to Mull in the Hebrides, a magical island surrounded by sea, a three-quarters of an hour ferry journey from Oban. We were bringing technology to the Highlands and Islands, teaching shepherds to record their sheep. As a unique venture, a Sunday Times reporter came visiting. It was just as he was preparing to leave he asked what I did outside this work. I mentioned writing, showed him my book. Within a few weeks, I was contacted by his publishers in Edinburgh who ultimately accepted the book, sending me on a book tour the length and breadth of Britain speaking on radio, book and discussion programmes, appearing in the media and Breakfast TV, and a whole host of different outlets. This was February 1984. People didn't write personal experiences, especially their life as a battered wife. It led to a remarkable display of solidarity as newspapers displayed headlines, picking up on what I'd said about families needing a 'Lifeline', a point of contact and support even when still in danger, with information about what to do, who to contact, where to go, how to keep safe. Letters arrived in their hundreds. It seemed I'd arrived before I even knew I'd begun as I founded the national registered charity: Lifeline, actively campaigning for laws to be changed, supporting families in abuse ... including the abusers in jail. If you didn't understand the problem and where his/her aggression stemmed from, how could you resolve the problem, or at least find a way of managing the situation at home? Besides, I knew the mindset of being an abused wife, physical, mental and emotional control which made you 'obey' even when your abuser wasn't around. I directed the Charity on a national basis for ten years. Meanwhile, I was commissioned to write a further two books published in 1988 and 1989 - 'Behind Closed Doors, an advice book for people in abuse', and 'Home is Where the Hurt Is, surviving child sexual abuse', both published by Thorsons (now HarperCollins).
After the birth of each book published, my mother ensured a proper launch took place, with a cake to celebrate. They spoke volumes about the pride she felt in her daughter who had dared to dream, to step outside her box! I shall never forget how she shared my life in becoming an Abuse Counsellor working alongside. Her loving words together with those of my father remain written on my heart.
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| Keyboard cake, copyright Janine Harrington |
I should perhaps mention that music became my second language, writing emotion into my melodies and songs for which there were no words; played on a range of instruments including keyboard and guitar. Art was another language I used as a child, trying to illustrate what was really happening to me, using it to tell my forbidden secrets. But then, no-one understood the inner pain that still filtered through, despite the nightmares, the 'Fugues', the debilitating symptoms of abuse.
In more recent years, I revisited this series of three books, revising them in the light of what I now know, twisting the tales within to draw out truths, climbing inside the mind of the Child, portraying the world through her eyes, illustrating how impossible it is as a lone voice to be heard ... or believed:
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| Living with Abuse |
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| Advice for living w abuse |
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| Living w sexual abuse |
Strange how, from the start, my books usually become a series of three. Somehow one was never enough, with the subject producing hidden depths still waiting to be explored.
Turning back the pages of Life, I arrive at my second trilogy. Again, it wasn't planned. My need to know more about my beginnings and those who came before, in order to better understand myself fascinated and compelled me to digger deeper into my past. The past defines who we are today. There is much that can be learned if we reach back in Time. Realising this truth, I became addicted to Genealogy, tracing the roots of my Family, both paternal and maternal, uncovering a fascinating array of people and stories reaching through the ages. During this time, I was living in a dark place filled with sorrow and pain. Urgently I sought answers as Post Traumatic Stress took a firm hold. Mum ached to find something new to inspire, comfort and encourage me. Finally, she shared her wartime experiences which ultimately were published in the form of our first book written together:
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| My mother's wartime story |
We both believed that 'to deny one's experience is to deny one's self'. Ideally, we wanted to write further books together for the future. Sadly, it was not to be. She died of Cancer even before our first book was published. But in the writing of this book I came to know my mother as a Soulmate, a Best Friend, a woman in her own right, and still I feel so privileged and loved, treasuring that time shared. We'd pour over books, photographs, diaries, historical documents and maps, desperately trying to uncover the mysteries of war and what became of her beloved wartime fiance. I shall treasure these memories always ... especially as this was my first introduction to RAF 100 Group, serving under Bomber Command during WWII. Her fiance Henry Victor 'Vic' Vinnell was a Navigator/Special Operator based at RAF Foulsham, serving in 192 Squadron. It was this Squadron, because of the secrecy of their work and operations in which they linked with Bletchley Park, that had the highest number of fatalities. Today, his name appears nowhere other than at Runnymede, on a thick block of cold stone. He has no final resting place. But his name and that of his Canadian friend and pilot, Jack Fisher, are still spoken by veterans who knew them. They are remembered. Their legacy lives on. I remain passionate, inspired by my mother's wartime story, about preserving their history and stories. While RAF 100 Group veterans and their families remain a valued part of my worldwide Family of Kindred Spirits today ... RAF 100 Group Association, founded in 1994.
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| My great-uncles Will & Arthur |
'Brothers' is a prequel to 'Nina & Vic', reaching back to the First World War, following the stories of my two great uncles, my maternal grandmother's brothers ... how they lived and died. This in turn was revised a few years after, and took the name from the Battle for High Wood in which both brothers took part in their own individual regiments. I'm still left wondering: 'Did they know?' 'Was Will the elder brother, aware Arthur was badly wounded?' 'Did he see him before he died?' 'Did Will ever visit Arthur's grave before he himself was killed one year on ... 4 weeks before the end of war?'
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| A place of warfare and secrets |
I travelled to Belgium and France on a coach trip to visit the graves of both great uncles, and was fortunate in being taken to where each brother fought and died. My Guide did copious research on my behalf to make this happen, and was able to talk me through their movements at the time, showing me the place they each fell. Again, memorable moments. Something I never expected, yet came to be. On the coach, drowning in an ocean of tears, I wrote a poignant poem which others on the coach asked me to share, standing in front of the graves of their own loved ones:
FINAL
FAREWELL
Graves, like markers,
map lives snuffed out before their time.
Set out in random Regiments
standing on parade
a permanent reminder
of a country saved.
Next to each a stranger
with a story all his own
buried deep within a field
a long long way from Home.
In the air around them
I feel their Spirit near:
'Remember how and where we died
and why we're lying here.
Please do not forget us,
we didn't die in vain.
Let our Life and Death have meaning:
One day we'll meet again.'
Men who died in battle,
brave boys who went to war,
each and every one a Hero
left ... on a foreign shore.
Copyright: Janine Harrington
Written in memory of my two Great Uncles
Arthur Birkett CROMAN,
died 1917, aged 26 years.
William James CROMAN,
died 1918, aged 37 years.
The third book in this Trilogy is written as a novel: 'Sealed with a Kiss'.
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| A Love Story |
This was the first time I had my own photograph accepted by a publisher for the front cover, and I was absolutely thrilled!
In more recent years, I've become known in the Aviation genre focusing on veterans of RAF 100 Group. Again, a trilogy offered them a voice. I remain passionate about preserving their history and stories, with too many already having taken their secrets to the grave, as with Vic and Jack. I made a my promise to their memory that, working as a collective with veterans and their families, we would ensure their lives as a collective would not be in vain, that their legacy lives on.
Vic, Mum's wartime fiance, was a writer. During the summer of 1944, he promised 'His Nina' he would write a book about their love and become an author. This promise was, in turn, handed down to me, and fulfilled with the publication of 'Nina & Vic' published on 26/27 November 2004, marking the 60th Anniversary of Vic and Jack's untimely death that same night in 1944.
For over twenty years, I have been a founding member of the RAF 100 Group Association. In time I became their worldwide Secretary, and Editor of our quarterly Association magazine: 'Confound & Destroy' (their wartime motto). It was my promise fairly early on to one day publish their stories, written in their own words, under the same cover name as in wartime. Twenty years later, it came into being when Austin Macauley took on the challenge:
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| Published by Austin Macauley |
This book also offers a blow by blow account written by veterans of what it meant to be part of this ultra-secret RAF 100 Group in wartime. Many share operations in which they were involved. And the man sitting astride the front cover above is a living hero of our times: George Stewart DFC, living in Canada, whose two sons carry on his legacy of flying their own planes. His story is a remarkable one, made all the more fascinating as it comes together from notes he wrote as a nineteen year old away from home and country for the first time. He is one of my valued Kindred Spirits in my worldwide Family, sharing one another's lives, keeping in touch daily. It's a wonderful, privileged and humbling position to be in today.
THANK YOU, ONE AND ALL!
RAF 100 Group Association ... you are each very special, valued, loved.
A remarkable collection of people xx
A remarkable collection of people xx
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| Published by Fonthill Media |
However, the good news is that I have absolute faith in FeedARead who now publish my books. Backed by the Arts Council and five top publishers, I have placed a fair number with them now. It was to them I turned last year, all ready with a wartime picture for the front cover, and they did me proud!
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| Published by FeedARead |
This book came out last year to mark the 100th Year of the Royal Air Force, and also the 75th Anniversary of the formation of RAF 100 Group in November 1943.
An evocative book, it evidences the impact RAF 100 Group had in the global theatre of war, offering a unique and telling insight through the words of those who were there at the time, explaining what was happening prior to its inception as well as after. It is written as an urgent response to veterans who survived the war, and to those who took their secrets to the grave, letting them know how much we honour, admire and respect them. To their families and friends seeking answers to what a loved one did in wartime, it offers a fascinating glimpse into times past, asking that finally we give recognition, credit and reward so richly deserved.
This book does include rare RAF 100 Group photographs, maps, diagrams, illustrations of the day.
Again, thank you to all who made this book possible, to help us remember the many who gave their lives that we may live in peace ... although saying that, I'm keenly aware that, with our world in turmoil right now, this isn't the case for everyone, sad to say.
My forage into fiction carried me on a strange yet fascinating journey, where quickly I realised that fiction, as such, doesn't exist. When writing, an author inevitably uses their own view of the world, emotions from past and present events. Characters can be shaped by the characteristics of people known or seen from afar often without realising it, and in this way, the work becomes what I choose to call 'Faction' ... a mix of imagination caught in the entrails of past truths.
'Secrets of the Grimoire' is certainly set in this category. It started out as the first in a Trilogy a long while ago, the second is written and ready to role, while the third still needs work. It was inspired by a dream, in which I was gazing into a mirror where no image stared back. I woke, wondering why this might be. A whole set of different scenarios queued in my mind, waiting to be assimilated. I recalled other parts of the dream in which I was living in a dust-filled ruin of a cottage. Through the grime on the windows, I could see nothing but weeds growing up the sides of the walls, fingers reaching in through sills like claws ready to strike. Yet my heart was racing. Someone was coming ... coming to visit. Friend or Foe? I had no idea. My only companion was a spider which continued to weave webs around sparse items of furniture, but at the same time seemed somehow to be ... watching me?
I lived this book for a long time. Nights became filled with screaming nightmares. I'd wake, convinced I was covered in cobwebs ... and I can't stand the idea of spiders!!!
My forage into fiction carried me on a strange yet fascinating journey, where quickly I realised that fiction, as such, doesn't exist. When writing, an author inevitably uses their own view of the world, emotions from past and present events. Characters can be shaped by the characteristics of people known or seen from afar often without realising it, and in this way, the work becomes what I choose to call 'Faction' ... a mix of imagination caught in the entrails of past truths.
'Secrets of the Grimoire' is certainly set in this category. It started out as the first in a Trilogy a long while ago, the second is written and ready to role, while the third still needs work. It was inspired by a dream, in which I was gazing into a mirror where no image stared back. I woke, wondering why this might be. A whole set of different scenarios queued in my mind, waiting to be assimilated. I recalled other parts of the dream in which I was living in a dust-filled ruin of a cottage. Through the grime on the windows, I could see nothing but weeds growing up the sides of the walls, fingers reaching in through sills like claws ready to strike. Yet my heart was racing. Someone was coming ... coming to visit. Friend or Foe? I had no idea. My only companion was a spider which continued to weave webs around sparse items of furniture, but at the same time seemed somehow to be ... watching me?
I lived this book for a long time. Nights became filled with screaming nightmares. I'd wake, convinced I was covered in cobwebs ... and I can't stand the idea of spiders!!!
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| Published by Pegasus |
'Soul Sister' I wrote after the death of my mother. Again, the cover picture is my own photograph, taken at Bempton Cliffs where a range of birds nest on ledges reaching down the cliffs. On the day I visited it was cold, a curtain of mist hanging heavy over the scene. The perfect setting for a story already slipping through my mind. The book is steeped in Greek legends, and follows the parallel world of Pandora who comes through into present day where a young girl is grieving. She wants to follow her Mum to wherever death has taken her. She loved her so much, unable to erase 'Mum' from her phone, calling it over and over wishing she would reply. It is when her computer suddenly begins to write her strange yet powerful messages stretching across the screen that a portal is opened. In stepping through, she is led into another place, another time, another ... dimension.
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| Published by FeedARead |
My final forage into fiction ... or 'Faction' I should say! ... features a three-part series starring unlikely hero Joe Maddison, although each book can be read as a separate thriller. 'Stone Cold Dead' came from my wanderings through a graveyard. Always peaceful and tranquil places, I find each stone representative of the cover of a book, where inside lies a hidden untold story aching to be shared. From details carved into the stone, it's impossible to imagine what the person was like other than a male or female and approximate age. But then, I've come across many, particularly high on the cliffs at Whitby by the infamous Abbey, where salt from the sea far below has eroded the stones, rubbing them clean. One day, I stood, imagining what it might be like to suddenly see my own name carved on one of these gravestones, the date of my death below ... suddenly, a story was born!
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| Published by FeedARead |
It was the perfect opportunity to mix past with present day, and just as my earlier book 'Brothers' involved me having to learn how to shoot an Enfield rifle to get my facts correct; in this instance it was about knowing how to fly a Cessna aircraft. It was a book I enjoyed writing ... but then again, not as much as the second in the three-part series which followed:
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| Published by FeedARead |
I was staying in a Bed and Breakfast in Warwickshire where I became their 'Writer in Residence' for a long while. Such happy days, sitting idly by the canal, watching narrow boats drift by, heading for the tunnel further along their watery path. Again, it meant copious research, learning about the lives of families living and working on barges, carrying cargo back and forth. My daughter that year, bought for my birthday a huge book about London reaching back through the ages. It offered a fascinating insight, even more when I discovered I had a relative in the not too distant past reported in a Census as being 'a Gentleman of Marylebone'. So many unexpected titbits of information gathered gradually drew the story out, making it close and personal. It was one of those books where I find myself living the story, not just watching from the sidelines. The characters and I connect in a strong meaningful way. And even as I write this now, I can reach out and draw them to me, admiring young Isabella and her soft vulnerability. Then again Connor, a dark, broody Heathcliffe kind of guy trapped in forbidden love.
There is yet one further book to be written which will complete this three-part series, so still work to be done. There is always something still waiting for a writer which, in turn, will take her on new exhilarating journeys. For me, it's not about beginnings, middles and endings. Never have I written in this way! It is the book that yawns a story into existence, working with its writer, informing her when something doesn't work and a re-write is due. Whether I'm writing a letter, an email, or a book, I write from the heart in a steady stream of consciousness. I never edit as I write, but let the story first take care of itself and make itself known, before going anywhere near clearing up grammar and punctuation, etc. Leaving writing at any point means when you return it changes, you slip into a different rhythm. Reading it back together with the part you wrote before, you'll find it's like two separate pieces on the same theme. I like to continue on for as long as possible, uninterrupted. When I return, I'll re-read what I've written still without changing anything, climbing back into the mindset I was in before I left off. This works for me, but then again, every writer has to find their own way of working.
Factual writing obviously means research is crucial ... and that doesn't entail reading and copying from books! I still have endless manuscripts sent to me which are basically 'dump boxes', places where endless facts have been spewed onto a page from a number of sources. That isn't writing a book!!!!! To use that material would be plagiarism! Books need to be crafted like a piece of art in a very personal way, putting your own mark and signature on your work. Initially you have raw material to work with where, once stored, you spend most of your time putting it into some semblance of order. I generally divide it up into folders which hold endless documents each headed with key words indicative of what they contain. I never read one sole work, or even two or three, because there is a very real risk of inadvertently using other people's ideas. Even the same phrases and wording can stick like glue to your brain! For a book to become yours alone, a unique piece of work, you need to own it and its contents. You may choose a subject about which there are already endless books written, endless screeds of documents on the internet. If you can't choose something new to write about, then the alternative is to find a new twist, a different way entirely of telling the story or writing the facts.
Of course, best of all is that you need to write what you know ... using your own experiences, good and bad. Include wherever possible your own thoughts and feelings and emotion relating to those experiences. Climb back into what happened to you, and write down the raw essence of how that was for you. Test out theories. I did this during a day spent in a canal boat, which I took to like a duck to water! Rudder right to turn left, then left to turn right. Simple!!
Of course, best of all is that you need to write what you know ... using your own experiences, good and bad. Include wherever possible your own thoughts and feelings and emotion relating to those experiences. Climb back into what happened to you, and write down the raw essence of how that was for you. Test out theories. I did this during a day spent in a canal boat, which I took to like a duck to water! Rudder right to turn left, then left to turn right. Simple!!
FINALLY ...
I would urge any new writer, anyone with an issue regarding their contract, or with a query concerning their publisher, to become a member of the Society of Authors ... note their new address as from 20 March 2019:
The Society of Authors
24 Bedford Row
London WC1R 4TQ
Tel: 020 7373 6642
They have proved a tremendous help to me, both with gaining back Rights to my work when placed with a publisher who paid no royalties and sent no statements at all. They guided me through the process when publishers altered works which I was contracted to do. Remember, a contract works both ways. The onus is on the publisher just as it is on the author to fulfill their/your obligations.
Writing has become a cut-throat business!
I have even had a book pirated, my book brought out by the publisher I sent it to, but under another name as author, someone from within their own.
My final two books which came out weeks apart I felt an incredible urgency about writing after being diagnosed with Cancer. Faith wasn't a subject up until now I had written about ... yet it seemed to be time. I truly felt 'Called' from the moment I began writing each of these books, woken from sleep in the early hours of morning. My heart opened wide, embracing this new experience. I never once struggled to maintain what I was already begun, but felt guided by another's hand. The writing of these books brought me immense Peace, and a Quietness of Spirit in my soul. There are other books I have written through the years, but these outlined above are a cross section of the 29 currently published, with these two books taking me to a new level:
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| Published by FeedARead |
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| Published by FeedARead |
The best advice I can possibly offer anyone who feels they want to write a book was given to me by my mother:
'Be True to Your Self'
When you come to publishing your work, research your chosen publisher. Make a list of possibles. Then go through them one by one. You may choose to self-publish. There is no shame in that. It's simply another way to go. Never skimp your work. Never rush. Enjoy the journey ... for it's a wonderful journey, one I always find takes me to new, exciting and inspiring places where I meet new people, and learn from the experience.
'Write from your heart in order to feel at the end,
when you hold that first copy of your very own book,
you truly have given your best!
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