Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Louise Wise used her general love of romantic fiction and interest in astronomy to write her first book, Eden. It was an experimental novel and was never meant to see the light of day! She had received many rejections, which stated that the novel was just too original for the current market. An agent took it on but failed to find a publisher for it, this urged Louise into believing in the novel, and herself as a writer.
She published with YouWriteOn.com a review website, which she whole-heartedly recommends. Eden has received good reviews so far: http://amzn.to/aqm4eM and even though Louise, without a mainstream publisher behind her, doesn’t expect it to hit the best seller list she will be happy to publish again with YWO.
“I’ve done with rejection letters,” she says. “Who needs them? I’d rather concentrate on getting my MS up to scratch instead of sending out submissions and waiting months - sometimes never getting a reply.”
She has learned her lesson though, and now sticks safely to comedy romance (chicklit). A Proper Charlie will be out later this year.
Married, with four children, Louise lives in England. She is a pharmacist assistant by day, and a writer by night.
Jenny plodded along, stupefied. The fingers circling her nape were biting and painful, but she barely noticed. The echo of the wolves’ howling was still too strongly embedded in her mind. Part of her knew Fly was leading her to her rape, and that part of her was going to allow it to happen because the other side was lying dormant through fear and exhaustion.
The corridor was laden with dirt and grime. Animal excrement, electronic debris lay in her path, but she continued to walk where she was urged. His cabin door was open, and he nudged her towards the bed.
While she sat nervously on the edge, he heated a metal canteen over a crudely assembled grill, wired haphazardly to a small accumulator. She watched as he stirred in the same beverage that she had yesterday morning. When it was steaming, he filled a cup and gave it to her.
He sat on a chair opposite, and observed her with his usual disconcerting stare.
She stared back, confused, until her fingers began to burn from holding the cracked cup. She pressed it against her lips, and it was only then that she realised her teeth were chattering.
‘You are not going to survive,’ he said finally using one of the small computers he had taken from the shelf.
She gulped a mouthful of the liquid, and tried to disguise the unwelcome tears that pooled in her eyes. Already he thought her a weak, pathetic female and, for some strange reason, she didn’t want to give him further evidence to think any worse of her.
‘How do you stand it,’ she asked quietly, ‘the endless howling, night after night?’
‘There is a worse sound, and that is no sound at all.’
She fell silent, acknowledging this and feeling her own loneliness magnify. A lone wolf from outside, or even inside the ship, howled. She closed her eyes knowing she would never be able to forget how close she was to being eaten alive.
‘Th-the wolves,’ she said, shuddering, ‘what are they?’
‘Wolves?’ He looked at her in confusion when the translator offered no other information other than describing the canine creature that lived on Earth.
‘It’s what I call the howling creatures,’ she explained. ‘Their noise is similar to the animals back home.’
‘The wolves dominate over every animal here, and I regard them as the natives. To you they may seem savage, but they have shown me intelligence not normally found in animals.’