Gen Webster Author

  Hi there, I have a sample of my new MS to share with you. It's chapter one, so no explanations are necessary. As always, leave a comment if you are moved to do so, thanks. 1   U NCLE Jack pressed a two-shilling piece into Lili’s hot little hand. “You take your sisters to the shop and get a bottle of lemonade to share.” “Thank you, Uncle Jack,” said Lili who was always polite to uncles and aunties. Taking out her hanky she wrapped the precious coin and put it in her pocket. Puffed up at her own importance Lili took hold of our hands and we started off down the road, “Uncle Jack must be very rich, Lili. That’s a lot of money and he’s so kind too, not like Mum’s uncle Fred, who always tickles me, and I don’t like it. He never buys us anything.” “I know Pet, don’t worry about that now, let’s get to the shop before it closes.” We continued down the quiet street; unusually, it was even too hot for the boys to be out playing cricket, with the light car traffic, they got a few over...

 Hello there, I have a short story to show you, something completely different from my usual offerings. It's called  The Gardenia Private Hotel It held its secrets within the solid south-west-facing walls of stone, a short, steep walk from the Atlantic Ocean. The owner-occupiers held themselves along with the secrets of their guests. Privacy was what drew regular visitors year after year in the off-season? Built in the nineteenth century from the traditional Cornwall stone, with sheltered windows gazing in all directions, the mansion sits smugly beyond the high walls facing the street. Nestled behind which, the garden, with the titular gardenias and fish pond creating a perfect space for afternoon tea. Each room is secluded from the others; up a flight of stairs, through the glass door and up three more steps to a short hall. Once inside the door, it’s as if we were the only guests. We didn’t meet anyone else in the corridors or on the stairs. Were they as we were, tryin...

 Hello It's been a while since my last post. I have been preparing to travel again (at last) and putting finishing touches to Sandhill Cove. I would like to share with you a little of my writing process. Flora, a character in Dear Maggie , started life as Phoebe and while the details changed in the writing of my book, the piece shows how I develop my characters and am flexible when it comes to the final draft. I hope you enjoy reading this and please feel free to comment.  Thanks, until next time Phoebe: A Self-Portrait There are things in my life that I have tried to forget; to hide them away in shame. Why shame? My mind is in turmoil; my baby is gone. Nothing else matters now. Not Father; not George or Henry; no amount of rejection is equal to the pain that I suffer with the loss of my little girl who is now in the frozen ground outside of the church yard, to endure the cold eternity of the unbaptised. Cruel and unnecessary punishment for being born before it was her time. R...

 hello, Please see another instalment to my new story. I'd be interested to read your comments. Thanks for your time. cheers Gen Chapter 1   Sandhill Cove, which got its name from the sand dunes that stretched a half-mile south along the beach, was a small seaside town that time forgot. Somehow it grew out of the national park surrounding it, a single road connecting the town to the highway. Folks from the highway towns referred to Sandhill Cove as a one dog town since the trains stopped running to the timetable. While the station-master (as he still referred to himself, despite the closing of the line) Mr Edwards, called it a two-dog town; his and the local butcher’s. Bruce Lindsay, the publican preferred to think of it as a one-horse town, it didn’t have the ring of abandonment as suggested by the one-dog handle. The Education Department had already transferred the older students to the high school in Nowra, while retaining the primary school. Annual threats to close t...

 Hello friend, I would like to share a short excerpt from my new MS, title as yet undecided. If you would like to leave a comment, I would appreciate any feedback. Until next time Gen 1951 Not a word had passed between them since leaving town. As he turned north onto the highway five miles into their homeward journey, Dave Armstrong broke the silence. “What d’you think, Love. Is it a goer?” he tried to keep his enthusiasm in check. He could be impulsive and sometimes things went very wrong. Mo was usually tolerant of his failings, but this time he needed her full consent and cooperation. Dave had a list of all the right reasons to uproot his young family to the edge of civilisation, as his father-in-law had so indelicately put it. He ticked them off in his mind: Fresh air; the ocean at their doorstep; a business that paid its way and then some; tourists flocking to the coast for summer holidays and weekends while the local pub, and a number of b and bs provided accommodation. A...

 Hello Friend, The dust has settled after the excitement of organising the launch for Dear Maggie; it's time to get back to work.  We had a good group of friends and family attending. The lovely Rima from @caferima2204 and her friendly staff kept us hydrated and the event running smoothly. Thanks Rima, for providing a great venue for our event. I'm happy to report that my new MS is taking shape at last and I hope to have it completed by the end of January. That is the plan; 'but the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.' Acknowledgment to Robert Burns "To a Mouse." cheers till next time Gen