Lorraine Pestell
Apr 18, 2016 | Contemporary, 1st pages
Twenty Years On
‘You know what I like about coming here, angel?’
Lynn smiled as her husband gave her a playful wink. ‘You’re going to say nothing ever changes.’
‘I was,’ Jeff shook his head. ‘How’d you know?’
The black Land Rover Discovery turned into the lane towards the back gates of the vast Benloch property. Both knew the couple’s shared observation was as false as it was true… On the face of things, remarkably little had changed in the twenty-three years since the songwriter and his muse first drove his old, rusty Ford Fairlane along this narrow track, too fast over the gravel and kicking up dust behind them.
Heavy electric gates lumbered away from the car, barely escaping a helping hand from the roo-bar as the car accelerated towards them.
‘Well, that has, for a start,’ the beauty countered. ‘Before, you would’ve tried to run me over instead.’
In the back of the car, Kierney dug her brother in the ribs. ‘Wake up. We’re here.’
For a moment not recognising where he was, Jet opened his eyes and groaned. He had flown in from the UK that very morning, having started his journey home from Cambridge University some thirty hours before.
It had been the lad’s first Christmas away from the family, permission for which he had negotiated carefully when he found out an exquisite Russian archaeology student was staying in college over the holidays. However, he had later confessed to his father that his plan had been an almost total waste of time and he regretted not coming home to Melbourne as planned. The girl had not turned out to be quite as exquisite as he hoped, leaving the young buck to beat a hasty retreat from her room first thing on Boxing Day morning.
The eighteen-year-old sportsman had received a sympathetic hearing from his dad, who then undoubtedly passed on the juicy snippets of information to his mother, judging by the knowing smile she had given him later in the day. Jet didn’t mind. He was very pleased to be back en famille, even if it did mean his kid sister was on hand to give him a hard time.
‘Grab this, please,’ Lynn asked her son, pointing to a large black suitcase.
The young man lifted the case out of the car as if it weighed next to nothing, his six-foot-four-inch frame beginning to fill out as he headed towards the end of his teens. He carried his own bag in the other hand and a folder of paperwork under one arm, stopping to kiss his grandmother in the doorway as he passed through into the house.
‘Are you tired?’ Marianna asked. ‘You mustn’t know what time it is, dear.’
‘What time is it, Grandma? Sorry? What did you say?’ the larrikin teased. ‘Nice to see you. Happy Old Year.’
Jeff clipped the top of his son’s head with the fingers of his right hand, and bent over to kiss his slowly-shrinking mother-in-law. ‘Ignore him,’ he told the elegant lady of the house. ‘He thinks he’s funny. We haven’t got the heart to tell him the truth.’
‘Good morning, Jeff,’ the gracious woman replied. ‘Twenty years. Can you believe it?’
‘Definitely not. Feels like forty.’
‘Papá!’ Kierney shrieked from behind him. ‘That’s so mean! You think you’re funny…’
The father turned round and gave his daughter a playful grin. ‘I mean I wish it were forty,’ he quipped.
Once inside and with everyone suitably greeted and kissed, the Diamond family disappeared straight upstairs to unpack for the New Year’s Eve celebrations. The air-conditioning system made sure the temperature in the big house was comfortable, and sparkles of sunlight glistened on the outdoor pool down below, enticing the couple as they looked over from the balcony.
May 12, 2014 | 1st pages, Literary, Romance
Twenty Years On
The black Land Rover Discovery turned into the lane towards the back gates of the vast Benloch property. Jeff remarked how little had changed in the twenty-three years since he had first driven his old, rusty Ford Fairlane along this narrow road, too quickly over the gravel and kicking up dust behind them. In the back of the car, his son woke with a start, for a moment not recognising where he was.
His sister dug him in the ribs. ‘Wake up. We’re here.’
Jet had flown in from the UK that very morning, having started his journey home from Cambridge University some thirty hours before. It had been his first Christmas away from the family, permission for which he had negotiated carefully when he found out an exquisite Russian archaeology student was staying in college over the holidays. However, he had later confessed to his father secretly that his plan had been an almost total waste of time and that he regretted not coming home to Melbourne as planned. The girl had not turned out to be quite as exquisite as he hoped, and the young buck had beaten a hasty retreat from her room first thing on Boxing Day morning.
The eighteen-year-old sportsman had received a very sympathetic hearing from his dad, who had then undoubtedly passed on the juicy snippets of information to his mother, judging by the knowing smile she had given him later in the day. Jet didn’t mind. He was very pleased to be back en famille, even if it did mean his kid sister was on hand to give him a hard time.
‘Grab this, please,’ Lynn asked her son, pointing to a large black suitcase.
Jet lifted the case out of the car easily, his six-foot-four-inch frame beginning to fill out as he headed towards the end of his teens. He carried his own bag in the other hand and a folder of paperwork under one arm, stopping to kiss his grandmother in the doorway as he passed through into the house.
‘Are you tired?’ Marianna asked. ‘You mustn’t know what time it is, dear.’
‘What time is it, Grandma? Sorry? What did you say?’ the larrikin replied, teasing her gently. ‘Nice to see you. Happy Old Year.’
Jeff clipped the top of his son’s head affectionately with the fingers of his right hand, and bent over to kiss his slowly shrinking mother-in-law.
‘Ignore him, Marianna,’ he told the elegant lady of the house. ‘He thinks he’s funny. We haven’t got the heart to tell him the truth.’
‘Good morning, Jeff,’ the gracious woman replied. ‘Twenty years. Can you believe it?’
‘Definitely not,’ her daughter’s husband shook his head. ‘Feels like forty.’
‘Papá!’ Kierney shrieked from behind him. ‘That’s so mean! You think you’re funny…’
The father turned round and gave his daughter a playful grin. ‘I mean I wish it were forty,’ he quipped.
Once inside and with everyone suitably greeted and kissed, the Diamond family went straight upstairs to unpack for the New Year’s Eve celebrations. The air conditioning system made sure the temperature in the big house was comfortable, and the outdoor pool down below glistened enticingly as the couple looked over from the balcony. Jeff looked at his watch.
‘Are we all having lunch, d’you think?’ he asked his wife. ‘Or can we just relax for a while?’
To his delight, Lynn walked towards her husband and lovingly wrapped her arms around him. She was wearing a new perfume, and it turned him on. Just a hint of mystery about the woman he knew so well. He had missed out on their usual morning liaison earlier that day, since mother and daughter had disappeared before dawn to collect Jet from the airport and to squeeze in some valuable driving practice for the sixteen-year-old.
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Jul 11, 2023 | Editors' Blog, Interviews
Tell us something unexpected about yourself!
I cannot snap or whistle. Please do not try and teach me or tell me how easy it is. It is not and you cannot teach me. Thank you. I'm not sure if that's what you were looking for, but I just thought I'd share!
Why do you write?
For me, it's fun. It's kind of that simple. I enjoy the creation and storytelling. I grew up on summer reading programs and have always been a reader. I mean, I was reading my dad's Alistair Maclean novels when I was ten or eleven years old. I know a lot of what was in them went over my head, but I remember reading them and thinking ‘Wow, how did he come up with all of this?' and being impressed that someone could just create an entire work like that. C.S. Lewis' space trilogy was another big influence at probably too young an age. Most kids my age were reading the Chronicles of Narnia, which are great, but I was drawn into how grand the whole story arc of that trilogy felt to me. It was truly epic, and it made me want to create my own stories.
Once my schooling was done, I lost touch with that side of myself a bit, but in recent years I've come back around to it and am really enjoying myself again. And for the first time I'm sharing those stories with an audience, which has raised that level of enjoyment for me.
Where did you get the inspiration for your current book?
The initial spark of inspiration happened while sitting around a fire in my yard with a couple of my brothers. We watched satellites go overhead and played a ‘what if?' game with them. Two of us attempted to get the other to bend on his non-believer stance and admit they could be something other than man-made satellites we were seeing.
That conversation stuck with me in the weeks following it when I'd be in the yard and see more go over, so I started piecing other parts of the story together. Maybe there were suddenly so many who didn't care about being seen because the world was ending. Were they the cause of Armageddon or trying to help?
I took those pieces, added in some of the mystical sites and stories I've always been fascinated by, and really this one flew out of my head and onto the pages
What do you enjoy the most about your genre?
There are no limits or boundaries. With paranormal thrillers or sci-fi stories, whatever I imagine exists in a world, or whatever I believe a character can do (or needs to do to make the plot work) I simply create it. For me, that's a must in storytelling and it's a big reason why you will probably never see my name attached to something like I a murder mystery, despite the fact that I really enjoy reading them.
How would you describe your writing process?
I am a pantser all the way. I envy those writers that plan and outline their stories and characters before ever writing a scene. I've tried to do it, but it doesn't work for me. I enjoy the chaos of the journey that takes a random idea I have late one night and turns it into a finished story.
I was a fan of those Choose Your Own Adventure books when I was younger as well as LEGOs, and I think they both influence my writing. I love building out a story. It's like reaching into that pail of LEGO bricks and just making something, but you're not sure what.
Early on in the process, I'll just write whatever comes to mind, often times with no idea how it will end yet. I'll write some scenes for a character, then decide that's not how they'd react, so I'll go back and give them a different path. By doing that I know who they are a little better and have a better idea how to write the rest of their scenes.
As I continue that process, the random mix of LEGO bricks takes shape and I now know what I'm building and can reach into the pail to pull out the right pieces to complete it.
What do you think authors have to gain from participating in social media?
Everything, really. Direct connections with your readers, insights from other authors, ideas for new stories. I am not someone who gets heavily involved in social media in my everyday life, but as an author the benefits of it have caused me to get more engaged. And if I'm being honest, I've enjoyed most of that engagement, to my surprise.
What advice would you have for other writers?
I'm not sure how qualified I am yet to be giving advice, since Singularity Dawn is my first book, but I will preach to not get bogged down in self-doubt or caught up in sales numbers. Obviously, if you are in this as your career choice, yes, the sales matter. Even if that's the case, try and always change that word from ‘sales' to ‘readers'. Each one of those sales is another person who decided your story was worth reading. And all those page turns that get counted show you have them engaged. It's all still fairly new to me, but I hope to keep that perspective on those numbers and always appreciate that I found an audience with something I created.
How do you select your books’ titles and covers?
The titles are all part of that LEGO building process I talked about earlier. There's a piece of my mind reserved for deciding a title, and somewhere along the way in the story it'll hit me. Once I have it, I don't generally spend a lot of time second-guessing it or trying new titles.
For covers, I will second guess and tweak until I feel I've found the right look and feel to match the contents of the book. With Singularity Dawn, I spent a lot of time staring at the mocks until I was convinced the one that I went with was the right choice. There's another cover that I really liked, but it just didn't vibe with what you were going to get once you opened the book, so it didn't make the cut.
What's your next step?
Well, the micro next step is wrapping up the In Other Worlds story with the release of Fallen Divinities on August 31. It'll be difficult to walk away from the Barlow boys and this world I've been so entrenched in for a long time now. But to achieve the macro next step of growing my audience, I need to give some of these other stories in my head a chance to be told. And I am really excited for that. There's paranormal suspense and even some horror percolating around up there now that this sci-fi tale is reaching its end. I really can't wait to share it all, and I hope you come along for the ride.
What book do you wish you had written?
Forever by Pete Hamill. Mr. Hamill creates this incredible tale of a man who is blessed with the gift of living forever, as long as he remains on the island of Manhattan. I always felt it was such a brilliant way to tell the story of the history of Manhattan Island and I aspire to have the research ability, patience and skill needed to weave such a story.
How do you react to seeing a new review for your book?
I feel like I need GIFs to properly answer this question. Joy and humility are the words that pop into my head, though. I have written stories for myself or for fun for a long time. Singularity Dawn is the first time I decided I was going to actually share that story with an audience. So, when someone out there takes the time to say ‘Wow I really enjoyed that' or leaves a star rating, it's still mind-blowing to me.
I would imagine the same is true for so many independent authors like me. I personally have a rule that if I read a book by an unknown author start to finish, that's worth a minimum of three stars. You captured my attention long enough to see the story through, great job.
Now that I'm on the other end of that, and have written something myself, I'm glad I took that approach. I hope those ratings I gave helped those authors feel confident enough to do it again, like the ones I've received have done for me.
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