Tuesday 12 December 2017

The Last Taboo - Guest post Jan Ellis



I'm delighted to welcome another guest onto my blog today... the lovely Jan Ellis. Jan is a fellow member of the RNA and is a writer of romcom and contemporary fiction. Without more ado, I'll hand you over to her.

When Wendy kindly invited me to write a post for her blog, I wondered what to write about. Should I tell you about my journey from publisher to published writer? Should I tell you about working in the book trade, an experience that makes me passionate about bookshops and one that comes in handy when writing about my fictitious Devon shop in ‘The Bookshop by the Sea’ stories? No, I shan’t tell you about either of those things. Instead, I’m ready to share with you – dear friends – a deep, dark secret that sets me apart from 99 per cent of people on social media. It is the last taboo; a peculiarity often met with incredulity and shock. Whisper it: I hate Christmas. There, I’ve said it and I can feel the sharp intake of breath across the country as gentle, Santa-loving folk read this. What’s not to like about over-cooked sprouts and the annual family row, I hear you ask? Here’s a handy list.

Things I don’t like:

‘Book now for Christmas!’ signs in August
Adverts for naff sofas
Cheesy supermarket music
Shopping of any kind
Crackers that don’t go ‘bang’
Over-heated rooms
After Eight mints
Cards that arrive the day after ‘last-posting’ day from people you forgot to send cards to

If I was an estate agent or a deep-sea diver, my aversion to Yuletide would not be a problem. However, here in romcom land I feel like the black sheep, the over-looked chipolata at the bottom of the oven, the jar of stinky bath salts. Despite my embarrassing affliction, I have somehow managed to introduce Christmas scenes into two of my novellas: French Kisses and A London Affair. In the latter, my young heroine Kate heads off to Suffolk with friends to celebrate Christmas Eve on the beach.
  
Here is a short extract:


When they reached their Christmas star, Ned stopped and threw out his arms towards the sea. “Enjoy that fragrance, people. There’s nothing like it.” He breathed in deeply, then waved vigorously with both hands.
“Who are you waving at, darling?” asked Valentina. “I can’t see anyone out there.”
“We can’t see them, but there will be people on beaches in Holland and Scandinavia waving back.”
Kate and Freddy tried not to laugh at their eccentric companion.
“Have you done this kind of thing before then, Ned?”
He turned, his eyes crinkling into a smile. “Many times, Frederico.”
“In England?”
“England, India, Thailand – the sea’s the sea, my friend. Now, let’s make
fire.” Ned knelt on the ground and lit the bonfire, which soon sprang into life. The others arranged themselves on the rugs and gazed into the flames. After a while, Valentina unpacked the champagne and glasses.
“Don’t open that yet, darling,” said Ned. “We need to dip our feet into the ocean first. Come on – get those boots off and roll up your trousers.”
Groaning quietly, Kate pulled off her boots and double layer of socks and stood on the cold sand, shivering. Freddy hopped over and took her hand. “Come on, Kate. Let’s do it.”
“I’m sorry about this. Ned is a bit bonkers.”
Fred turned towards her and laughed. “Why are you apologising? This is brilliant.”
The tide was in and Ned had already run the short way to the water’s edge with Valentina who had rolled up her skirt to her knees. “Hurry up, you two,” she said, laughing. “We must do this together.”
Freddy and Kate stepped gingerly across the sand, then the four of them walked hand in hand into the inky sea, squealing as icy water lapped over their ankles. Behind them the fire crackled, throwing a flickering red light over Kate’s star, which stood like a beacon on the beach.
They dashed back and forth into the water shrieking and jumping over the waves, then separated so each of them could walk alone in silence. It was a spontaneous moment of contemplation under the moonlight: magical, as Ned had promised. Afterwards they dried their feet, put on their boots and lay on the rugs watching the stars and listening to the rhythmic whooshing of the waves. At midnight, they drank a toast to good times and wished each other happy Christmas.
The moon was high in the sky by the time the bonfire had burned down and all the champagne was drunk. Ned’s body cast a dim shadow on the sand as he stretched and stood. “Friends, I think it’s time for bed.”

Reading this again, I realise that there are perhaps one or two redeeming features about Christmas…

Things I do like:

Black and white films on the telly
Carol singing
The smell of cigars
Crackers that do go ‘bang’
Parties with friends in spangly frocks
Dogs in Christmas sweaters
Chilly walks that end in warm pubs
Catching up on the TBR list

On balance, I guess Christmas is okay – so long as it only happens once a year and starts and ends in December. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to open the sherry and put the spouts on. Yo, ho, ho!


French Kisses and A London Affair and An Unexpected Affair and A Summer of Surprises are published in two paperback volumes by Waverley Books. The ebooks (Endeavour Press) are available on Amazon. The Bookshop Detective is a paperback original.

Contact Jan:

Follow Jan on Facebook and Twitter @JanEllis_writer
Jan's Amazon page: http://goo.gl/yqmAey

4 comments:

  1. Thanks for letting me share my secret, Wendy. I wonder whether there are other folk out there who agree with me, but are too shy to say? Xx

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    Replies
    1. Thank you very much for coming on my blog, Jan. Unlike you, I love all things Christmas!

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  2. I don't like Christmas. I might if there were just the traditional twelve days of it and there wasn't enormous pressure to make every Christmas amazing, better than any previous Christmas ever, impressive, exciting... No wonder people get stressed.

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