Sharon writes:
I
met Marj on a writing site a few years ago, and a couple of days ago we sent
back and forth a few emails about writing something for each other's blog. I
thought oh, dear, why is it so hard sometimes to write? I think it’s that
putting yourself out there that I find intimidating. When I first starting
writing I was nine, and I always thought and loved the idea that writers were
anonymous and mysterious. I felt comfortable with that thought. I was terribly
shy back then.
But the world has changed greatly, so here I am, writing
something about my book and me.
The seeds of A Woman Transported were planted
many years ago when I was eighteen. I fell in love, but not with one man, but
two. The story of Willow Creek was born, set in Campbelltown, 30 miles west of Sydney
in 1816. Although I never dated both men at the same time, for a two-year
period, I didn’t know what I wanted and was hopelessly torn between the two.
Willow Creek was a story about a woman caught between the love of two men. I
resolved the issue of those two men in my life, by marrying the wrong man and
leaving him ten months later.
But Willow Creek became a labour of love over the
next sixteen years because I couldn’t decide how to end it, who my heroine was
meant to be with.
Then I met my current husband, and the hero in Willow Creek
never got the girl. I then married again at thirty, our daughter was born, and
I never wrote for about eight years.
We relocated to where we live now, and I
started writing again.
Then one day I thought about that old story still
sitting in a drawer. Sent it off to a couple of agents, was rejected, then
decided to take a real good look at it. I was a little surprised no one loved
it. I joined a writing forum and soon realised exactly what was wrong with it.
I was writing as they did at the turn of the century and I was an untrained
writer, had forgotten much of what I was taught about grammar and punctuation.
So began a large learning curve to understand how I might improve as a writer.
During that time I considered rewriting Willow Creek, but it needed so much
work it couldn’t have possibly stayed the same story. So I went away and wrote
other things, never attempted to get anything published, then when my
grandmother passed away I wrote Australian Flavour – Traditional Australian
Cuisine, a compilation of old Australian recipes.
Not long after that, I
imagined a wealthy English woman travelling in a carriage through the
Australian bush on her way to somewhere. I knew what her name was straight off
the bat. Isabel. But I wondered where she was going and I thought, oh, she’s on
the way to give my hero out of Willow Creek a happy ending. She’s on her way to
Willow creek, and this time he might get the girl.
When I started to delve into
who Isabel was, where she came from, I discovered she had a past, not a pretty
one, and she was not who she appeared to be. What developed then was the story
of Light & Shadows, which would become A Woman Transported, set in 1814 in
the grimy streets and slums of St Giles in London. I had found out who Isabel
was, and I couldn’t help wonder if she was ever going to get to Willow Creek.
For the next two years, I wrote A Woman Transported. Then spent another couple
of years before I arrived at my final draft, the result nothing like I
originally anticipated. I had set out to write a fully fledged romance, but
Isabel had a mind of her own. The story turned into one with strong romantic
elements at moments, a woman living in a man's world with few choices and a
bucket load of flaws, but overall I like to think it’s about the unbreakable
bond between a mother and daughter.
Released in April 24th 2013, it became an
Amazon Top 100 bestseller for Historical Fiction in July this year.
Typical reviews for 'A Woman Transported.'
I love it I couldn't put the book down. A lot of Australian history that I didn't realised happen back then
Always enjoy books about our ancestors, and this one did not disappoint. Hard to believe that the British soldiers and their Officers could treat people like they did.
The first chapter: Read it and you will want to read it all.
CHAPTER 1
ELIZABETH
McGUIRE swallowed bile and fought another retch. She squinted, blinded by the
day’s brightness. She thought no painter’s palette could capture such
brilliance of light reflecting off the ocean or the smirks on the faces of
convicts and free standing in the crowds.
Susanna’s
arm gripped her around the waist. “Elizabeth, you need to calm down. Take deep
breaths. This won’t do you nor Joshua any good. Think about your baby also.”
“How
could they send us from a pit of coldness to this place?” Elizabeth leaned
against Susanna’s hip. “How can they do this to me boy?”
Sixteen-year-old
Joshua, stripped to the waist, stood arms tied to embrace a tree. Elizabeth glowered at Captain Marcus Linton
standing beside the tree, the brass buckles and buttons on his red coat
gleaming in the sunlight.
“Marcus
should be tied like an animal.”
“You must
stay silent,” Susanna said.
“Flaming
hell, I will.” Elizabeth flipped her red hair off her shoulders and shoved her
way toward Joshua, squeezing between the mostly barefooted crowds, causing some
to lose their straw hats.
Reverend
Marsden, his beady eyes surrounded by blubber cheeks, stood in front of the
crowd, flanked by soldiers. “No need to go any further,” the Reverend said.
“You dare
call yourself a man of the Lord. The fires of Hell will engulf you long before
any of us. Let me go.”
Two
soldiers grabbed her arms. “That’s near enough.”
“You let
him loose,” Elizabeth said. “You have no evidence for what you’ve accused him
of.”
Marcus
stepped toward her, hands on hips, his black curls tied behind his head in a
queue. The ribbon holding his hair fluttered in the breeze. Loathing and scorn
covered his face. “You’re a convict felon, a prisoner of the Crown. Keep your
mouth shut.” He leaned his face close to hers and lowered his voice. “I can
ensure the lash rips out your son’s heart and it’s fed to the birds and his
flesh to the pigs. If your son tells us where the other pikes are hidden, we’ll
let him go.”
Elizabeth
shrugged an arm free and wiped her sleeve across her forehead to remove the
sweat. “He can’t tell you something he doesn’t know.”
“Mother,
say no more,” Joshua shouted.
Marcus
glared at her. “You should listen to your son.”
She
trembled and lowered her head, and every muscle in her jaw hardened. May God have no mercy on you. I won’t
hesitate to slit your neck the first opportunity I get.
Marcus
stepped in front of Joshua, cleared his throat and faced the crowd. “Any
further whisper of rebellion against the British government will ensure that
conspirators will feel the noose cut off all this world has to offer.” He
pointed to a young man at the front of the crowd. “Seamus O’Callaghan, step
forward.”
“I beg of
you, for the love of Mary, I can’t do it.”
“You’ll
take the cat o’ nine tails and do it, or you’ll be shot and we’ll find someone
else to take your place.”
The
soldiers standing around the crowd raised their muskets at Seamus. He lowered
his head and stepped forward. A soldier standing near the buckets beside the
tree handed him a whip made of nine pieces of cord, each knotted at intervals
and ending in a bead of lead bulbs.
Seamus
raised the cat above his head
and hesitated. “You can’t kill us all.”
“Put your
fingers through the lash and bloody strike,” Marcus shouted.
“Pray, I
beg of you.” Elizabeth struggled against the guards’ grip on her arms. “Joshua
doesn’t know where any pikes are hidden.”
Marcus
pointed at Seamus. “The muskets are aimed to fire.”
“Shoot
me,” Seamus said.
“If we
have to we’ll shoot every one of you disobedient fools.” Marcus smirked and
fixed his gaze on Seamus’s wife, Susanna, who stood behind their young son.
“Fling the lash or you’ll ensure your whore is left alone in this land of
desperate men and your son is placed in the orphanage.”
“Flog the
Irish devils,” a man shouted. “They’d be as guilty as each other.”
“Shut
your mouth,” Elizabeth screamed.
The
darkest fear shaded Susanna’s face. “To the back of the people, go Jeremy.” She
pushed her son into the solemn crowd behind her, while the crowd on the other
side jeered. Her voice wavered while she pleaded with Seamus, “It’s better to
be a coward for a minute than dead the rest of your life.”
Seamus
paled, stared at Joshua, and raised the cat. “May the angels protect you.”
The cat
whistled toward Joshua’s white back and with the first strike, it was as if
lightning struck Elizabeth and an inferno tore through her body. Great scarlet
lumps arose and spread on Joshua’s flesh the same instant. The muscles in his
arms quivered, his shoulders slumped against the tree, and he gasped between
strikes, holding in his pain.
Elizabeth
sagged in the soldiers’ arms. She stared at the trees unable to bear the sight
of her flesh and blood, her heart, suffering.
A low and
distinctive hiccupping chuckle came from a tree. An adult brown and white
kookaburra perched on a branch, threw back its head and broke out in raucous,
mocking laughter, as if the scenes below were the most humorous sight.
Instantaneously, hundreds of birds joined the crowd in a laughing chorus.
“Hold her
up,” Marcus barked. “Make sure she watches each lash strike.”
Seamus
raised the cat, flung it forward, and looked away. The cat’s tails struck
Joshua again. A new stream of bloody welts appeared, glistering against the
white of her son’s back. The grip on Elizabeth’s arms tightened.
The cat
struck again and again, taking her son apart piece by piece. Flesh and skin
flew off the cat and into her face. Sickly lumps caught in her throat and she
convulsed, spewing until she couldn’t anymore. “I beg of you,” she gasped,
“stop before you kill him.”
She
closed her eyes, each strike sounding like it struck raw beef, while half the
crowd laughed.
Then the
doctor called out. “Halt! Pull down his breeches. The next hits on his
buttocks.” The whip cracked again and again. “Now on his thighs.”
When the
final count stopped at fifty, she dared not open her eyes. The birds no longer
laughed. He’s dead. Elizabeth took
several deep breaths. A quivering mesh of blood and skin covered Joshua’s back.
Two soldiers raised buckets and threw salt water over Joshua’s back, prompting
the most horrendous scream.
Elizabeth
tried to struggle away from the soldiers. “Let me go to him, for mercy’s sake.”
“Release
her, but shoot her if she goes to him,” Marcus said. “He’ll be taken to the
hospital, then placed in irons.”
Seamus
threw the dripping cat on the ground and stepped toward the silent side of the
crowd and into Susanna’s arms.
The grip
on Elizabeth’s arms released. She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her dress.
“Untie
him.” Marcus stepped toward her. “If he finds trouble again, it will be the
noose, and I’ll ensure you watch every second of your son choke to death in
chains.”
She spat
in his face. “To hell with you, this land and everything in it.”
Do you need to know what happens next?
Then you need to buy the book. It is available on most online book-selling sites, including these:
This blog post provided by:
And unlike Sharon, I seldom tell anyone much about myself at all. I write good books though, so if you want, look for my books on online book-sellers such as Amazon and Smashwords.
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/Samray
And unlike Sharon, I seldom tell anyone much about myself at all. I write good books though, so if you want, look for my books on online book-sellers such as Amazon and Smashwords.
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