Thursday, 22 January 2015

An amazing talk by an amazing woman

For those who were interested in the talk by Eva Schloss I heard last night, here is a brief summary of it.

Eva Schloss is now 85 years old, and her mother married Anne Frank’s father after the Second World War. However, her talk wasn’t about her famous posthumous step-sister, but about her own life.

Born in Vienna in 1929 to a fairly well-to-do family, she had to flee Austria with her parents and brother after the Anschluss in 1938. They were no longer welcome in Austria. The mother of her (non-Jewish) best friend screamed at her never to visit their house again, and her brother was beaten up at school.

They went first to Belgium and then to Amsterdam. Anne Frank was one of her school friends there. Not a best friend, she stressed, just one of the friends she played with in the local park. “If I’d known what would happen in the future, I might have taken more notice of her,” she said with a wry smile. The main things she could remember about Anne was that she was a lively, confident chatterbox and also, even at 11, she was already interested in clothes, hairstyles, and boys, whereas Eva was still a tomboy and quite shy.

Once Germany invaded Holland in 1940, life gradually became more difficult for the Jews, as different restrictions were placed on them. They weren’t allowed to use public transport. “No problem,” she said. “We all had bicycles anyway.” As a child, she was far more upset that Jews were not allowed to visit the cinema, especially when they couldn’t go to see ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’ which all their non-Jewish friends were talking about.

Despite the restrictions, she said, life was tolerable until 1942, when orders were issued that all Jews aged between 16 and 25 had to report for labour service in Germany. That was when the Franks went into hiding, and so did Eva’s family.

Unlike the Franks, however, Eva and her mother were hiding in one apartment with Dutch friends, and her father and brother with another Dutch woman. When this woman started to blackmail them for more money, Eva’s father found another place for them all with a Dutch nurse. They’d only been with her for a short time when the Gestapo arrived and arrested them. It turned out that this woman was working for the Germans and had betrayed over 100 Jews to them. After the war, she was tried but only received a 4 year sentence. Eva’s anger, however, was directed more toward to the woman who had blackmailed her father, because if that hadn’t happened, they wouldn’t have ended up hiding with the woman who betrayed them.

The family were arrested in May, 1944, on Eva’s 15th birthday. They were taken first to Westerbork in Holland, which was a transit camp. Evidently a Jewish man was in charge of compiling lists of inmates for the ‘transports’ each Tuesday to the concentration camps further east. Of course, said Eva, he protected his own family and friends, and so she and her family were only at Westerbork two days before they were moved on. Over 100,000 Jews were moved to the concentration camps from Westerbork.

When they were in the cattle truck, heading east to they knew not where, her father broke down in tears and said, “I have tried to protect you, but I cannot protect you anymore. We will all have to protect ourselves now.”

During the 3 days in the cattle truck into which they were crammed, they had to take turns in sitting down, or standing by the narrow opening in the side of the truck to get some air. They had one bucket to use as a toilet, and people fainted in the truck. Some died, too.

Eva told us all this almost as if she was describing a normal train journey, while I (and the rest of the audience) listened open-mouthed.

Eventually they arrived at Auschwitz, and as they disembarked on the platform in the camp, the selections began. You were told to go to the left or to the right by the camp doctor (Mengele) in smart uniform, black boots, and white gloves. Those on the left were told they were being taken to the showers and the group on the right envied them after all the days they’d spent in the cattle truck. Of course, as we now know, the showerheads didn’t deliver water.

Eva went on to tell us about life in Auschwitz. After hours standing naked (which, she said, was excruciatingly embarrassing for a 15 year old), they gave details of their names, ages, and where they born to an official, and were tattooed with a number (which is still visible on her arm). Then they were allowed to pick up an item of clothing from one pile, and shoes from another (but it was impossible to find any matching shoes).

They were taken to already overcrowded barrack blocks – six wooden bunks for 20 or more women. After only a few days, they were all crawling with head and body lice, and trying to survive on a cup of thin soup in the morning, and some hard bread in the evening. Water was available, but you didn’t drink it, because it was contaminated, and you could end up with typhus or cholera.

By this time, you could have heard a pin drop in the hall where Eva was speaking. Even after 90 minutes, no one shuffled in their seats or even coughed. Like everyone else, I was riveted by her story.

She went on to tell how they somehow survived the bitter winter of 1944/45, how 60,000 were marched out of the camp in early January on a Death March, and how the German guards fled at the approach of the Russians. The gates (underneath the infamous watchtower through which the trains came in) were opened, but the remaining inmates stayed in the camp. They had no money, no possessions, and had no idea where they could go if they left the camp. Finally, on January 27th 1945 the camp was liberated by the Russians. Next week there will be various commemorations to mark this 70th anniversary (and Eva is going to Germany to speak to an audience of people there).

The Russians set up field kitchens, and made cabbage soup for the remaining inmates of the camp. Eva said, “I can still remember the heavenly smell of that soup.” Then she laughed. “And I spent the next night crouched over the bucket. After so many months of starvation, my body couldn’t cope with real food.” Evidently a lot of people died that night and the next day because they over-ate.

Even after the liberation, the nightmare was not over. Eva and her mother eventually reached Odessa, from where they were taken by ship to Marseilles, and finally arrived back in Amsterdam. They learned that her father and brother had both died in Auschwitz, and they met up with Otto Frank again, who also learned that his wife and daughters had died in Bergen-Belsen.

Otto, Eva said, was amazing. He visited many Jews who had lost their children, husbands, wives, or other family members, encouraging them to stay positive.

One day he came to their apartment with a bag, and said, “Look what I have found. I didn’t know my daughter at all.”

Of course, it was Anne’s diary, which Miep, one of their Dutch friends, had found and kept after the Gestapo arrested the Frank family.

What else can I say except that it was the most compelling talk I have ever heard? I’ve read plenty about Anne Frank, have been to the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam, and have also visited Auschwitz a couple of times, but hearing about it from someone who experienced all the fear and lived through all the cruelty and horror was, to put it mildly, mind-blowing.

I was also amazed that this woman, who had experienced and witnessed so many horrors, had somehow managed to come through it and, in the end, live a relatively ‘normal’ life in England. Not only did she have the physical strength to survive the starvation and disease at Auschwitz, she also had the mental strength to rise above the horrific experiences of her teenage years and their after-effects.

A truly amazing woman.

If you want to know more, check her out on Amazon, as she has written three books about her experiences.


 

Sunday, 9 November 2014

One Lovely Blog Award

I was nominated by Beth Elliott for the 'One Lovely Blog Award'.

The award recognizes bloggers who share their story or thoughts in a “lovely” manner, giving them recognition and helping them reach more viewers. In order to “accept” the award the nominated blogger must follow several guidelines.

The Rules for accepting the Award(s):

1. Thank and link back to the awesome person who nominated you.
2. Add the One Lovely Blog Award logo to your post and/or blog.
3. Share 7 things about yourself.
4. Nominate up to 15 other bloggers and comment on their blogs to let them know.
 
So, first, thank you Beth Elliott for this lovely compliment and opportunity. Here's her blog which I'm sure you'll enjoy http://regencytales.blogspot.co.uk
 
Seven things about me:
 
1. I've been 'stage-struck' since I was about 8 or 9, but can't act to save my life (or dance or sing either). Instead, I've directed about 12 musical shows, and also worked backstage for many more.
 
2. I've lived in the same house for 48 years.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
3. I go 10 pin bowling every week with several friends. We call ourselves the 'Silver Strikers' (even though we don't get many 'strikes' or even 'spares'!)

 
4. I enjoy playing trivia quizzes online (and other games too!).
 
5. I've visited 17 of the United States, including 3 new ones this year (Nevada, Arizona and Rhode Island)

 

6. In 2010, my daughter and I visited the grave of my great-uncle, who was only twenty when he was killed in the First World War. As far as we know, we were the first members of his family ever to see his grave.
7. I've had 10 books published, 4 in the 1960s and 70s, and the other 6 since 2011. My latest one, 'Irish Inheritance' has been my best seller so far.
Now I nominate these friends for the Award:
Rosemary Gemmell
Sherry Gloag
Nancy Jardine
Margaret Mayo
Joanne Stewart
Jennifer Wilck
Celia Yeary

Wednesday, 17 September 2014

Jennifer Wilck is my special guest today

My special guest today, Jennifer Wilck, talks about her new series of novels, each taking place around a Jewish holiday

I want to thank Paula for hosting me today on her blog. She doesn’t often have visitors on her personal blog, so I appreciate her allowing me to visit today. Miriam’s Surrender released on September 10 and I’m so happy that my vision for this series is finally coming to fruition.
 
Miriam’s Surrender is the second in my Women of Valor series. The first book, The Seduction of Esther, came out last year. At the time, I had an idea for a series in my head, and figured I’d try writing the first book to see how it worked.
 
In my head (often a scary place), I wanted to write a contemporary romance series, with each book taking place around a Jewish holiday. There aren’t a lot of romances that have Jewish characters or ones that take place in non-Christian settings. Weddings take place in churches, characters say a prayer before Thanksgiving Dinner or celebrate Christmas. I love reading those books, but I also wanted to see what would happen if I made the default religion Jewish rather than Christian. Honestly, diversity in books is important and fun!
 
The Seduction of Esther took place during the holiday of Purim. One of the themes of the holiday is hiding one’s identity. Well, that’s a great theme for a romance and it was easy to write. It’s gotten great reviews and people seem to appreciate the different perspective. So I sat down to write book number two.
 
Miriam’s Surrender takes place around Passover. The holiday is more well known because it takes place right near Easter. One of the Passover themes is freedom; again, a great theme for a romance. There are so many things you can free your characters from—their past, a secret, a person, etc. My hero in this book (who was the villain in the first one, by the way), hides a big secret from the heroine, and revealing it helped move the plot along.
 
Looking ahead to the rest of my series, I’d like to write at least four more full-length books, with maybe a novella or two thrown in. Each book can be read on its own, although characters from previous books do recur—as I said, Josh, the hero in this latest book was the villain from the previous book. I don’t know about you, but I like seeing what happens to characters after I write The End.
 
Please see below for more about Miriam’s Surrender. And I’d love to hear from you: what do you like, or dislike, about a series? What are your opinions on diversity in books? What’s your favorite holiday?
 
Blurb: Josh Lowenstein is a successful architect, hired to redesign the alumni club of a posh, private school in New York. He is strong, capable and knows the best way to do everything. Except let another woman in.
Miriam Goldberg is the Assistant Director of Outreach, and is Josh’s day-to-day contact for the redesign. She’s taken care of everyone around her, and forgotten how to let someone else take care of her.
With a tumultuous history, neither one is prepared to work together. As they get to know each other, the animosity disappears, but Josh is hiding something from Miriam and its discovery has the possibility of destroying their relationship. Only when they are both able to let the other in, and release some of the control they exert over everything, will they be able to see if their love can survive.
 
Excerpt:

“I’m glad you agreed to have dinner with me. Maybe we’ll do it again?”
“I’d like that.” She looked at Josh and smiled.
He tipped his head and Miriam could feel his breath warm her face. Mere inches apart, she could see silver and black flecks in his irises, stubble on his cheeks, the arch of his eyebrow. Shivers zinged up her spine. Like a magnetic pull, she wanted to lean into him, to feel his body against hers, to press her lips against his. But they worked together, and a kiss would change everything. As if he read her mind, he pulled back, said goodbye and got into the cab and drove away. Miriam covered her lips with her fingers.
What in the world was she supposed to do now? He’d come close to kissing her. She could still feel the electric charge between them; still catch a slight scent of his musky aftershave in the air. His hand had held her arm with enough pressure to keep her against him. Although she’d watched him leave, she could still feel the imprint of his touch. She stroked her hand up and down her arm.
Did she give away how much she wanted to kiss him too? It was so quick, so unexpected, she couldn’t be sure. Her mind shot off in all directions as she entered her building and took the elevator to her fifth floor apartment.
They worked together! How in the world was she supposed to look at him when they next met? Should she acknowledge the kiss that almost happened? Should she pretend it never did? He didn’t plan on discussing it at their next meeting, did he?
 
Links: Jennifer can be reached at www.jenniferwilck.com or http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jennifer-Wilck/201342863240160. She tweets at @JWilck. Her blog (Fried Oreos) is www.jenniferwilck.blogspot.com and she contributes to Heroine With Hearts blog on Tuesdays http://www.heroineswithhearts.blogspot.com and Front Porch Saturdays at Sandra Sookoo’s Believing is Seeing blog http://sandrasookoo.wordpress.com.
 
Buy Links:
Miriam’s Surrender
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Miriams-Surrender-Women-Valor-Book-ebook/dp/B00NFR6X9C/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1410358293&sr=8-2&keywords=jennifer+wilck
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/miriams-surrender-jennifer-wilck/1120324885?ean=2940150711891
AllRomance: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html

Good luck with Miriam's Surrender, Jennifer - and I look forward to more in your series.

 

Monday, 15 September 2014

Do you have 'favourite' occupations for your heroes/heroines?

Continuing my 'recycling' of past blogs which I think are worth repeating, here's another 'A' blog from my archives.

In three of the six books I’ve had published since 2011, my heroines have been actresses. In His Leading Lady Jess is a talented amateur actress who takes the opportunity to replace her sister on the professional stage in London. In Fragrance of Violets, Abbey has had a successful acting career but loses confidence after she fails to win a coveted role. My most recent release, Irish Inheritance, has a struggling actress, Jenna, who has given herself five years to discover whether she is good enough to make acting her lifetime career.

Why do I choose to have actresses as my heroines? I’ve never been an actress, apart from a few small roles in amateur plays when I was younger. I soon realised I wasn’t very good, and I can’t sing or dance either.

The first answer to the question is that I’ve been stage-struck for almost as long as I can remember. My mother used to take me sometimes to plays performed by the local repertory company. I still remembered being enthralled by a production of Jane Eyre when I was about ten. A couple of years later it was a school production of The Importance of Being Earnest that caught my imagination, and soon after this, a local amateur group introduced me to musical theatre, which I have loved ever since I first saw Oklahoma on the stage.

Fast forward about 20 years, and we come to my second answer. In the 1980s, when my daughters were in their early teens, I was the leader of a Girl Guide Company, and we decided to ‘put on a show’, namely ‘The Wizard of Oz’. That was the beginning of about 15 years of producing musical shows, first with the Girl Guides, and then with the junior section of the local Musical Theatre Group. Maybe I couldn’t act, sing or dance myself, but this was the next best thing. I was privileged to work with a lot of talented teenagers, and to see them develop from shy chorus members to confident youngsters who took the lead roles with self-assurance and amazing stage presence. Indeed, some of them went on to drama school and then the professional stage.

I also worked backstage with two musical theatre groups for several years, doing costumes, props, or as a stage hand. I know first-hand that there is no experience in the world like ‘show week’ at the theatre, with combination of panic, nerves, adrenalin, laughter, camaraderie, and the sheer satisfaction at the end of each evening.

Maybe this goes in part to explain why my heroines are actresses. It could be a subconscious yearning on my part, a wish that I’d had a talent for acting. At the same time, the theatre is an environment with which I am familiar (and even know some of the jargon!). Although I’ve worked with amateur groups, I’ve been backstage at two major professional theatres. The latter use far more high-tech stuff than the amateur theatre can afford but the process of rehearsals, backstage preparations, and actual appearance onstage is not much different from the amateur world.

Finally, from the purely practical angle of having actresses in my novels, it’s often useful to have a heroine who isn’t doing a nine to five job, as they can have periods when they’re not working at all!

Monday, 25 August 2014

Adjectives

Another blog from my archives, first written about 3 years ago, this time about adjectives.

When I was at school (a long time ago!), my English teachers insisted we used lots of adjectives to make our writing more descriptive.  In contrast, writers today are warned against the overuse of adjectives.

Various reasons are given for this: too many adjectives give your novel a ‘purple prose’ tint, or clutter the text with unnecessary modifiers, or give the impression that the writer cannot quite find the right word.

Mark Twain said: "As to the adjective, when in doubt, strike it out.'

The question is – which adjectives should you strike out?

First there are the redundant adjectives – the tiny kitten (aren’t all kittens tiny?), the large mountain (ever seen a small mountain?), the narrow alley (an alley IS a narrow passage), the cold snow (if snow wasn’t cold, it would be water!). Omit the adjective if the noun is self-explanatory.

Secondly, there are the adjectives which, with their nouns, can be replaced with a much more descriptive word e.g. ‘a downpour flooded the streets’ instead of ‘heavy rain flooded the streets’, or ‘the witch cackled’ instead of ‘the witch gave an evil, sharp laugh’.

There are also some adjectives which have become almost meaningless and should be avoided (except in dialogue), including wonderful, lovely, pretty, stupid, foolish, pleasant, comely, horrid – and the obvious one, nice.

However, a story without any adjectives could end up as very clinical and dry. As with most things, moderation is the key. We are not advised to avoid adjectives altogether, but to avoid overusing them.

Eliminating all adjectives would be as big a mistake as overusing them. Adjectives can clarify meaning and add colour to our writing, and can be used to convey the precise shade of meaning we want to achieve. We should save them for the moments when we really need them and then use them selectively – and sparsely. Too often we feel the need to beef up our nouns in an effort to get our point across.

Compare: The dark, dreary house had an empty, suspicious feel to it, the thick air stale and sour with undefined, scary kitchen odors. Are all these adjectives necessary? A tighter, more dramatic description would be: The house had an empty feeling to it, the air stale with undefined kitchen odors.

Use adjectives only to highlight something the noun can’t highlight. We’ve already seen that the ‘narrow alley’ has a redundant adjective, but what about the ‘dark alley’ or the ‘filthy alley’?  Not all alleys are dark or filthy so in these examples, the adjectives are adding something that is not already shown by the noun.  This is the main reason for using an adjective.

And now I’m off to take my own advice, and look through my current story for redundant adjectives!

Monday, 11 August 2014

'And see the sun go down on Galway Bay'.

Continuing my 'recycling' of past blogs which I think are worth repeating, here's another 'A' blog from my archives - a scene which took my breath away.

Which shall I choose? The first sight of the Manhattan skyline as my plane came in to land at Newark airport? The perfect reflection in a still lake of the mountains in the Canadian Rockies? The contrasting bands of vivid colours stretching across the flat land of the Dutch tulip bulbfields? A beautiful deserted beach at Malibu, with the sunshine on the white sand and the surf from the blue ocean breaking on the shore? A small town in Provence, clinging to the side of the steep hillside almost as if it had grown out of the rocks? The wide expanse of grassland where Pickett led his charge at Gettysburg? The sunrise over Lake Nasser in Egypt, turning the Abu Simbel statues to gold? Or maybe the first sight of that ominous watch-tower over the railway line that led into the infamous death camp of Auschwitz? [I'd now add my first sight of the Grand Canyon to that list]

So many scenes, so many memories. But there’s a beautiful Irish song which says ‘you will sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh, and see the sun go down on Galway Bay.’

I first went to Galway about four years ago [now 7 years ago!]. We arrived too late in the evening to see the sunset that night. The following day we went south into Tipperary and Limerick and thought we might get back in time for sunset, but then we were held up in traffic on the ring road around Galway City. ‘The sun going down on the Galway ring road’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, does it?

On the third day we were travelling down from Clifden and the Connemara mountains towards Galway Bay as the sun started going down. The sky gradually became pinker, the small dark clouds were silhouetted against the glow.

Eventually we found somewhere to park near the shore, and went onto a small beach. We stayed there for over half an hour, watching the most glorious sunset I have ever seen. As the sun descended to the horizon, the sky turned from pink and yellow to a rich orange and deep gold. The clouds too changed colour until they looked like fiery orange smoke.  All this glorious colour was reflected in the water of the bay. The only sound came from the gentle and almost hypnotic swishing of the small waves which were like strips of molten gold as they broke on the shore.

Watching the ‘sun go down on Galway Bay’ was truly an unforgettable sight.


Monday, 4 August 2014

A Bad Rap for Romance

I decided to have a big 'delete' session of my hundreds of Word documents, but then had second thoughts when I reached my 'Blogs' file. Some of these, either on my own blog, or on our writers' group blog, were written 5 or 6 years ago, but I think they may be worth 'recycling'. I'll work my way slowly down the alphabetical list, but here, for starters, is one of my 'A' blogs, first written about 2 years ago.

Twice in the past week, I’ve heard comments from two different acquaintances that have made me think. Here is the gist of the conversations.

First conversation:-
Her (with a smirk on her face): Please tell me you don’t write for Mills and Boon.
Me: No, not now, but I wouldn’t mind being published by them again.
Her (with mouth dropping open): Why? Their novels are rubbish.
Me: How long is it since you read one?
Her: I haven’t read any. I wouldn’t be seen dead reading one of that bodice-ripper kind of book.

Second conversation (on the phone conversation with someone I hadn’t seen for a couple of years):-
Her: So what have you been doing with yourself?
Me: Actually I’ve been writing novels.
Her: Really? Have you had anything published?”
Me: Yes, three novels in the past year and another one due out in June.
Her: Oh, well done. What are they about?”
Me: They’re romances.
Silence, then Her: Oh, sorry, I never read romances. They’re so predictable, happy ever after and all that.

I’ve paraphrased these conversations, but you get the idea.

The first conversation made me realise the stereotypical image of romance novels has persisted, at least for my generation, for 30+ years. The “bodice-rippers” were the hallmark of Mills and Boon/Harlequin in the 1970’s and 1980’s, and, in my opinion, gave romance novels a bad rap. They had archetypal characters and contrived plots, usually involving a virginal heroine who was ‘rescued’ or 'dominated' by an arrogant, alpha-hero (often an Arabian  sheik, Italian count, Spanish prince, or Greek billionaire). These stories often contained a barely disguised rape scene (hence 'bodice-ripper'). The formula tended to be, 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you' until the hero forces himself on the heroine, and suddenly she's madly in love with him!  On the whole, this kind of novel has gone ‘out of fashion’ (fortunately, but with a few notable exceptions!). However, a kind of stigma still remains.

The second conversation made me wonder about the word ‘predictable’. Yes, romances have, if not a ‘Happy Ever After’ ending, then at least a ‘Happy’ ending where the hero and heroine overcome the obstacles in the path to reunite. The reader is left with the hope that they will be happy in their future together. Yes, the ending of romance novels may be considered 'predictable'.  However, aren’t thrillers, detective stories, and mysteries equally predictable? The goodies will triumph, the baddies will receive their deserved punishment, and the crime or mystery will be solved. What’s the difference? Why are romance novels considered 'predictable', while other genres aren’t?

And why are romance novels considered by some to be the ‘lowest form of literature’? Why do people want to disassociate themselves from reading romance novels? I’ve had a few reviews which start, “I don’t usually read romances but …” as if that is somehow praiseworthy. It seems to be okay to say you read thrillers or mysteries, but not the ‘done thing’ to admit to reading romances, even though thousands (millions?) of women obviously do!

Have you come across this kind of ‘literary snobbishness’ and, if so, what’s your response?