Stepping into the carriage

Dear Reader,

This is the moment of no return. My travelling suit is on, my valise packed, my reticule in one hand and my parasol in the other. The footman is at the phaeton door. I'm about to embark on a new journey.

Writing is my passion. I've written a lot- poems, short stories, letters, diaries, even pamphlets. I'm writing a lot- poems, short stories, letters diaries... And one of my biggest projects: a novel(la).

But I've never written anything remotely like a blog. Its seems like that's about to change.

I haven't the slightest idea whether my severely limited skill will be sufficient to capture your interest. Maybe I'm boring you already (oh dear, I really need to up my game). But maybe, just maybe my passions aren't misplaced. Maybe I can write something more than nonsense, in my novel and in this blog...

Unfortunately, I don't have any mutual acquaintances on hand to make an introduction. Its rather difficult to mind etiquette, when you aren't in the ballroom, out in Mayfair, or even in the parlour. That is, its rather difficult to mind etiquette that was designed years before Miss Lovelace's ideas were ever put into fruition. So I shall have to introduce myself. I hope you don't think me dreadfully forward.

May I present Miss Anne Hall, humbly aspiring authoress and great admirer of the works of Miss Jane Austen, Miss Gaskell, Miss Anne Bronte, Mr Wilkie Collins and Mr William Wordsworth?

Perhaps, at some point, in this soiree, shall we say, you will inquire as to whether Miss Hall, perhaps, is attempting to write a little herself.

Oh yes, she will say, she is progressing quite decently through her novel.

And what is the name of the said novel?

June Lilies.

And what is it about?

And therein lies the flaw.

The first draft was a mildly disjointed sequence in which the heroine undergoes no visible reform, falls in love with what my beta-reader described as the most uninteresting character in the book, miraculously comes back to life after an illness, and does nothing to oust the villain. The villain instead succeeds in her goal, without requiring the heroine's help as was initially foreseen, and therefore no longer manipulates the heroine. Such an inadequate heroine, you might say.

With the second draft, I'm attempting to fix this. Its in the second draft, I've always felt, that the story truly comes together. So its the second draft that this blog will follow.

I might be a writer (and a very inadequate one), but I'm also other things. I'm a baker. Don't be surprised if you find a blog post, or two, on my exploits in the kitchen whilst I overcome writer's block. And, even though I'm rather- well- plain, I'm also obsessed with fashion.

Nineteenth century fashion.

I'm also a Londoner (so don't fault me for any colours please). I'm a reader- in fact, you might come to find an awful lot more about other people's books than my own. I'm a teenager (shock, horror! Please don't let that put you off). And, at heart, I am a person born in the twenty-first century, living in the nineteenth.

Yours Truly,

Anne