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What Was Left of Her: A Story of Ghosts

When two sisters inherit their aunt’s house on the Norfolk coast, they are forced to confront the past. Thrown together on an eroding clifftop, increasingly haunted by memories of their aunt and disturbed cousin, they try to make sense of the present and its relation to their family history.

Why did their aunt die? What does their neighbour want with them, or the house? And why did their late cousin seem to hate them so much it almost reaches beyond death?

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So I’m a writer, don’t you know. It’s taken a long time for me to call myself that without mentally gagging – even now it sounds a tad audacious and wanky. I’m also a lover of all things weird and Gothic (rural Gothic especially, if we want to be granular – and if that’s even a thing). But this isn’t a blog about Gothic fiction or horror or the supernatural – or rather, it’s not just about that. There are plenty of those already and I imagine they’re way more scholarly, too. Anyone looking for high-level lit-crit (much of which I admire hugely but can’t seem to emulate) may want to try one of the other internet highways or byways.

I write novels (see my published fiction for proof); I write stories. More often I just spew out whatever is in my head in one long stream of consciousness. Maybe this is really just a place to deposit some of that. A bit of everything – fragments of writing from my fictional world; ramblings about my favourite literary things; little forays into morbid little folk legends like those I grew up with in the Fens of East Anglia (where a lot of my writing is set, because write what you know and all that). My ups and downs with writing and life in general. Occasional flashes of beauty in the darkness. News from my Actual World. Sometimes all of those things AT THE SAME TIME. Anything and everything. I’m electing to think of it as a scrapbook of my brain. Here be MonSters. (And also a few flying lynxes because I’ve always got time for whimsy alongside the macabre.)

If you happen to like odd things, or sad things, or slightly broken things, or oddballs, or have a love of the Gothic, then welcome in; I hope you like it here. Pull up a chaise longue and mix yourself a lethal cocktail. Just don’t move any of the furniture – I hate that.

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