Saturday, December 14, 2013

Dance The Moon Down by Robert Bartram: Interview and Excerpt

 








 Tell us about your currant release:

Dance The Moon Down is an historical drama set against the background of the First World War. The novel attempts a new slant on an old theme by focusing on the lives of the women left behind. The story’s central character, Victoria, has been married for barely a year when her poet husband, Gerald, volunteers to fight and then goes missing on the Western Front leaving her to fend for herself in a male dominated society. Her struggle to survive and her refusal to give up hope that her husband will one day return give the novel, I feel, a uniquely poignant flavour.

 How do you develop your plots and your characters. Do you use any sort of formula?

In the case of Dance The Moon Down,  about 75% of the novel is based on actual events and that, to a certain degree, dictated what shape it would take. Usually I begin with an initial idea and then write up the parts that interest me most until I have several chunks of disembodied plot. After that it’s a case of marrying them together until I have a first draft. Then it’s a matter of rewrite after rewrite until I’m satisfied with the finished manuscript. As a matter of interest, Dance The Moon Down ran to six drafts.

My characters tend to be a pastiche of many people I’ve met over the years. Again, the story generally dictates the kind of people I’m looking for. Then I add on various quirks and foibles until I have exactly the character I want. It would be nice if we could do that in real life, wouldn’t it.

 When in the day/night do you write. How long per day?

I prefer to write at night, it’s quieter then and I can hear my thoughts. I usually start at 11pm and go on until 3am, sometimes longer. That’s seven days a week, of course.

What is the hardest part of writing your books?

Knowing when to stop. What to leave in and what to take out. It’s deciding when a story is finished without tinkering all the spontaneity out of it.

 What is the most important attribute to remaining sane as a writer?

Personally I think that a degree of insanity is a pre-requisite for anyone wanting to be a writer. Nevertheless, it has to be a sense of humour. Be passionate about your writing, but never take yourself too seriously.

 Do you have a website or blog?

Yes. My novel is on Amazon.  http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00A4E7JGA        There you can read sample chapters and catch up with some of my reviews. I also have a Good reads author page.     www.goodreads.com/author/show5858365.R_L_Bartram/blog   where you can read the bulk of my reviews, start a discussion and meet my friends and fans. Feel free to drop in anytime.

 Entice us. What future projects are you considering?

At the moment I’m researching for another novel set against the background of the American Civil War. This one also has a female central character (my favourite). As with Dance The Moon Down, I think I’ve found a new slant on an old theme, but that’s all I’m saying for now.

 Do you have any suggestions for beginning writers. If so, what are they?

Firstly, write for the love of it. Be true to yourself and never give up, even in the face of the fiercest criticism. The literary world is a tough place to be recognised in, but there’s always a place for a good story.




 

In 1910, no one believed there would ever be a war with Germany. Safe in her affluent middle-class life, the rumours held no significance for Victoria either. It was her father's decision to enroll her at university that began to change all that. There she befriendes the rebellious and outspoken Beryl Whittaker, an emergent suffragette, but it is her love for Gerald Avery, a talented young poet from a neighbouring university that sets the seal on her future. After a clandestine romance, they marry in January 1914, but with the outbreak of the First World War, Gerald volunteeres but within months has gone missing in France. Convinced that he is still alive, Victoria's initial attempts to discover what has become of him, implicate her in a murderous assault on Lord Kitchener resulting in her being interrogated as a spy, and later tempted to adultery. Now virtually destitute, Victoria is reduced to finding work as a common labourer on a run down farm, where she discovers a world of unimaginable ignorance and poverty. It is only her conviction that Gerald will some day return that sustaines her through the dark days of hardship and privation as her life becomes a battle of faith against adversity.
 

 
 
 

 

Victoria heard someone pass close by, approach the desk and stop.
After a moment, not having felt a hand on her shoulder, she opened
her eyes to see a young officer standing in front of her. He bore such
a striking resemblance to Gerald that for a moment she thought that
it was actually he.
‘This is Lieutenant Fairchild,’ Colonel Bass informed her bluntly,
‘temporarily assigned to this department. I’ve put him in charge of
investigating your husband’s case. In future, you’ll direct all your
questions to him.’ Closing the file, he handed it to the lieutenant.
‘Carry on, Fairchild.’
The lieutenant took the file, turned to her, smiled and gestured
that she should follow him.
Victoria was only too glad to do so, but as she rose to leave,
Colonel Bass had one last word of warning.
‘In future, young woman, I suggest that you confine your
activities to the appropriate channels. If you persist in pursuing your
original course, you may discover that this department is no longer
disposed to offer you the leniency it’s shown today.‘ With that, he
looked down and began writing again.
With an outstretched hand, Lieutenant Fairchild reaffirmed his
invitation for her to follow him. Victoria couldn’t wait to get out of
the room. She was shaking from head to toe and in such a state that,
by the time she reached the corridor, she was desperate to confide her feelings to just about anyone.
‘That man,’ she told the lieutenant, her voice wavering with
emotion, ‘that awful man is overbearing, rude and insensitive!’
‘He’s a colonel in the British army,’ Lieutenant Fairchild pointed
out. ‘He’s supposed to be.’
His candour did nothing to alleviate her distress. ‘Do you know,
he accused me of being a spy?’
The gravity of her statement merely seemed to amuse him. ‘My
dear Mrs Avery, if he’d ever once thought that you were actually a
spy, then you’d never have been allowed into this building. At this
moment, you’d be languishing in His Majesty’s Prison Holloway,
awaiting execution.’ Victoria drew a huge gasp, her eyes widening with incredulity;
she could hardly believe her ears. ‘You mean to say that he put me
through all that, knowing all the time that I wasn’t a spy?’
‘Believe it or not, he did you a favour,’ Lieutenant Fairchild told
her. ‘It could have been far more serious had he wished to make it
so.’ Victoria was incensed. She felt completely humiliated.
Disregarding his remarks, her agitation began to boil over. ‘That’s
despicable!’ she fumed.  ‘I don’t think the corridor is the best place for this conversation,’
he advised. ‘I’m certain we’ll be much more comfortable in my
office.’
The lieutenant’s office was tiny in comparison to the baronial hall
occupied by Colonel Bass, but it was far more inviting. It was hardly
bigger than a cupboard, lined with filing cabinets and cluttered with
stacks of paper that further reduced its size.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ he apologised, ‘but lowly lieutenants don’t
rate a lot of space.’ He paused, studying her for a moment. ‘May I
offer you some tea?’ he asked. ‘You look as though you need it.’
When the tea arrived, Victoria was grateful to receive a cup.
Her ordeal had left her parched, and it was all she could do to stop herself
from gulping it. Nevertheless, to her acute embarrassment, each
time she tried to replace the cup back onto the saucer, her trembling
hand made it rattle conspicuously, and in spite of trying not to, she
slurped when she drank.
Lieutenant Fairchild waited patiently for her to recover enough
to continue. Eventually, Victoria put the cup down and eyed him
warily. Despite his good looks and easy charm, she was still paranoid
about military conspiracies. ‘It won’t work, you know,’ she told him.
The lieutenant folded his hands on the desk top and smiled
indulgently. ‘What won’t work?’ he asked.
She was certain that he knew exactly what she was talking about,
but if he insisted on continuing this silly charade, then she would tell
him anyway. ‘I’ve made a nuisance of myself, and after frightening
the life out of me, that colonel of yours thinks to distract me by
putting a pretty face in my way.’
 It took him some moments to comprehend what she was
alluding to. Then suddenly, his eyes widened in surprise. ‘Oh, I see.
You mean me. I can honestly say that I’ve never thought of myself in
quite those terms before,’ he admitted, still somewhat bemused by
her remark. ‘Do you suppose Colonel Bass sees me that way?’
Victoria was only too well aware that his amusement was entirely
at her expense, and was determined not to be the butt of the joke.
‘You know precisely what I mean, Lieutenant,’ she remarked coldly.
‘Please, call me Alan,’ he invited, taking her by surprise, ‘and may
I call you Victoria?’
He had a beguiling way about him that easily disarmed her
caution, and after an appropriate pause required by formality, she
nodded her consent.
‘Excellent,’ he beamed. ‘I’m sure we’re going to be great friends.’
Under any other circumstances, his remark might have been considered presumptuous. Perhaps the harrowing events of the
last few hours had tired her, wearing down her resistance, making
her susceptible to his overtures. In any event, Victoria found the
suggestion not altogether unattractive. Maybe Colonel Bass was a
better judge of character than she’d given him credit for.

 







Born in Edmonton, London, in 1951, Robert spent several of his formative years living in Cornwall, where he began to develop a life long love of nature and the rural way of life. He began writing in his early teens and much of his short romantic fiction was subsequently published in various national periodicals including “Secrets”, “Red Letter” and “The People’s Friend”

His passion for the history of the early twentieth century is second only to his love of writing. It was whilst researching in this area that he came across the letters and diaries of some women who had lived through the trauma of the Great War. What he read in them inspired him to write his debut novel Dance The Moon Down, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Robert is single and lives and writes in Hertfordshire, England.
 
 
 
 
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