Since being “invited to leave” school at the age of fifteen, I have been many things – a semi-professional musician, a designer of museums and exhibitions, a dresser of film-sets and a sculptor. Now I am writing.

When I was about thirteen I read The Black Arrow by Robert Louis Stevenson, a tale set in the days of Henry VI. It tells of young Dick Shelton and his friendship and adventures with younger Jack Matcham whom he has rescued from pursuit. It is a ripping yarn, and I loved it. Until, in the final pages, when Jack Matcham is revealed actually to be Joanna Sedley. And pop! Instead of a tale of boy-meets-boy, which had really excited me, it turned out to be yet another boy-meets-girl. It was inevitable in those days, of course, but I was so disappointed. I had been duped and I was still just the lone weirdo.

These days there are a plethora of boy-meets-boy and girl-meets-girl stories, but precious few are set within history. It’s not  a new idea. It must have happened. So now, many years later, I have set out to fill that gap, and to tell stories the young me could really have identified with but which were never written.

Historical fiction too often tells of the “great and good”, of kings and queens and great figures, hero and villain alike. But I am more interested in the ordinary people, the walk-ons and watchers from the back, whose lives become embroiled in the machinations of their so-called betters, whether they like it or not; and, instead of covering the great events, so amply done by others, I prefer to look for my tales among the cracks in between.

Please note: of the four titles shown left, only a “Cold Wind From The North” is published. The others, and two more, await publication.