The End is Nye

We’ve done that joke… anyway, a cheeky little sneak preview of my new novel about Mary Shelley – ARGUING WITH THE DEAD – out next year with Fledgling Press. And as if that’s not enough, I also have another children’s novel coming out too. I’ve been quietly writing away – because after all, that’s what writers do – in my castle (featured below) because after all, that’s where all writers live…while faithful little Louis gazes at me mournfully.

As Mary Shelley sorts through the snowstorm of her husband’s scattered papers – for which she will be paid the handsome sum of £500 – a blizzard rages outside. What she has never confided in anyone is that she has always been haunted by Shelley’s drowned first wife, Harriet, who would come to visit her in the night as she slept with her two tiny children in a half-ruined villa in Italy while Shelley was away litigating with lawyers. Did Mary pay the ultimate price for loving Shelley? Who will Harriet come for next?

For those who loved FOR MY SINS, I’m hoping you will love this too. Once again, I’ve delved into the mind of a Mary (perhaps I’m doing all the Marys) but this Mary – as I’m sure you don’t need telling – wrote FRANKENSTEIN when she was 19. She was vilified and ostracized by the society she lived in at the time, for writing it. How could something so foul and disgusting emerge from the pen (and the mind) of a young girl? But she identified very closely with the Creature, who cries out in her novel “Misery made me a fiend!” The Creature is rejected by his Creator, Dr.Frankenstein, and Mary was no stranger to feelings of rejection. I have loved writing and researching it. Some of the novel is set in Scotland, where Mary was sent when she was 14 to get out from under the feet of her stepmother. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I have loved writing it. In fact, I hope you buy it because if you don’t, writers like me cannot afford to heat the many rooms of my castle (featured below), and I starve… and so does my dog, Louis, who still hasn’t had a walk this morning… (Disclaimer: I don’t live in a castle. That castle below belongs to someone else… I can’t remember his name…)

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