What gave you the idea for your Snowflakes story?
Although it is a work of fiction its storyline is a personal one. My
mum has dementia and I'm aware of how much my dad has to do for her on a daily basis. I hope Murmuration gives a little insight into being a carer and shows some
of the symptoms a person in the latter stages of dementia may experience, and how precious
moments of recognition are a joy for their family.
How would you describe your normal style of writing?
You won't find long descriptive passages in my writing. I use a
conversational style with dialogue driving the plot. I tend to write my novels
in the first person and the present tense. My short stories are written in the
third person and the past tense.
Have you published other material?
I emailed my first short story Trojan
to Bridge House Publishing's World Stopping Events competition. It was a
runner up and was published in On This
Day anthology in 2012. My novel Ordering
Flynn Matthews was shortlisted in Choc Lit's Search for a Star competition in 2015. I've had an offer from a US
Indie digital first publisher to publish it but I am also looking at self
publishing as an option. Either way I hope it'll be published in 2016!
Do you have a writing routine?
I used to have a very
structured writing routine but recently I've started a new part time job in a
library and, along with my daughter, have taken up two new hobbies knitting and
sewing. However I am writing on Monday and Thursday and every
other Wednesday. The ideas keep flowing outside those times so my notebook is
filling up.
Do you have a favourite place for writing?
In the dining area of
our living room. It means I'm not hidden away from my family even if I am
absorbed at my laptop. My children have learnt that they can ask for anything
while I'm writing and I'll say yes! The table looks a mess most days and I have
to confess to tidying it up for the photograph.
Tell something quirky about you.
I have notebooks I
don't write in as they're too gorgeous to use! See the Owl notebook in my
writing space photograph J
An extract from Murmuration
Gwen retrieved the Christmas decorations from the back
of the cupboard praying it would keep Fred occupied for at least half an hour
before he was yanking at the front door wanting to go out. This need had been
manageable a couple of weeks ago when it had been unseasonably warm but now a
bitter Arctic wind blew and she was tired of being cold or maybe she was just
plain tired.
As Gwen walked into the hall Fred was making a grab for his
woolly hat that hung over the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. Nodding
to the over flowing box she said, “Fred dear fancy helping me with the
Christmas decorations?”
He rolled his eyes. It was his new thing. His way of
expressing his dissatisfaction at anything he was unimpressed by. He pulled his
hat on. “I want to go out. You can’t keep me here.”
Gwen kept her sigh inside. It didn’t help matters expressing
her exasperation. “I know I can’t Fred. We’re going out in half an hour so help
me while you’re waiting.”
Fred tugged back his jumper sleeve and stared at his watch.
He circled its dial with his index finger. It broke Gwen’s heart. He’d lost the
ability to tell the time over eight months ago.
“It won’t take long. I promise.” Deliberately she staggered
a few steps and tilted the box as if she was about to drop it.
Tutting he said, “Let me take that. Where do you want it?”
It was at times like these, when the old Fred kicked in,
that Gwen had to remind herself that there was no point saying ‘in the lounge’
as he wouldn’t know where that was. “Follow me.”
With thoughts of the world outside their front door
momentarily forgotten he did as she said placing the box in front of the real
Christmas tree that had been delivered yesterday.
Still wearing his hat Fred prodded a branch, “Where did this
come from?”
“Bill dropped it off.”
He frowned, “Bill? Do I know him?”
“Yes. He owns the grocers in the village.”
Fred rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’re wrong. Herb
owns the grocers.”
He didn’t, not anymore, not for thirty years but Gwen knew
better than to argue the point. “Of course. What was I thinking?” She forced a
smile. She spent most of her time pretending to be wrong to placate him. “He
chose well didn’t he?”
“Herb’s always had a good eye.” Fred leant in and sniffed
the needles. “I love that smell.”
His words warmed Gwen. It was one of his favourite scents. Maybe,
just maybe, this would jog his memory for a while. She knelt down and opened
the box. “Tinsel first, then the baubles.”
“Fairy lights first.”
Gwen leant over the box and flicked the plug switch. “I put
them on last night.”
Fred took a step back and grinned, “I like them. They’re
new.”
They were the same lights they’d had for the last decade but
they shone as bright as when they’d first bought them. “They are.” She handed
him a long piece of tinsel.
His eyes crinkled as he stared at the gold foil touching his
fingers. Gwen took a handful of tinsel and got to her feet. She proceeded to
weave it between the branches. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her husband
watching her hands. Copying, he put his tinsel on the tree. He surprised her by
reaching for more and adding that to the branches.
About the Author:
L.G. Flannigan loves dark chocolate and her children,
husband and dog. She lives in Somerset and when not writing works in a library.
She writes contemporary adult and young adult novels plus the occasional short
story and was previously published in the On
This Day anthology. Her contemporary novel Ordering Flynn Matthews was recently shortlisted in Choc-Lit’s
Search for a Star Competition. L.G.'s infrequent musings can be found at
lgflannigan.wordpress.com
