Alison Williams & The Black Hours Spotlight

I'd like to introduce to you all Alison Williams, the lovely and newly published author of The Black Hours.

She's a great and fascinating writer, who writes dark historical fiction. It's not something that I normally read myself, but having met Alison previously on another writing site I decided to give it a go. You know my motto is to try everything! Well, I'm glad that I did, because I'm loving it. She writes with an eloquence that you don't normally see, and the book itself is both gripping and fascinating.
Inthis post you'll find an excerpt and a giveaway, so make sure to enter and get yourself a copy of this great book and support  this lovely indie writer!

I'll let Alison tell you more...

I have been writing ever since I can remember – scribbling down and (badly) illustrating stories in exercise books whenever I wasn’t actually reading (which was most of the time when I was awake). After getting married and having two children, I worked in education until deciding to bite the bullet and do what I have always wanted to do which is to write full-time – it only took me until my forties! I now work as a freelance writer with articles published on line and in magazines. From 2011-2012 I studied for a Masters in Creative Writing with the University of Glasgow. As part of my studies I wrote my first novel ‘The Black Hours’ – available now on Amazon.

History fascinates me – but not so much the kings and queens, the emperors, the military heroes or the great leaders. More the ordinary people whose lives were touched by the decisions, the beliefs and the whims of those who had power over them and who now fill our history books.  When I was about ten years old I went with my family to visit Winchester Cathedral.  As we wandered through this magnificent building with its arches, its pillars, its carvings and beautiful windows, my mother was looking less than impressed. Wasn’t she inspired? Awed? No, not at all – ‘All I can think of’ she said ‘is the poor buggers who had to build it.’ And that remark has stayed with me since. What was it like to be one of those ‘poor buggers’ toiling to create the soaring gothic arches of Winchester cathedral? Or a 17th century mother living in London, scared to death as the plague took hold? How did it feel to a woman in Berwick-Upon-Tweed in 1296 watching the English troops storming through the town? And what about all of those accused, tortured and horribly murdered in the witch trials that swept through Europe? How did it feel to be one of those women, terrified and desperate? It is this that fascinates me – how it was for the ordinary people, caught up in events they couldn’t control. It is their stories that I want to tell.

Links:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Black-Hours-Alison-Williams/dp/1492801402/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1383328662&sr=8-1&keywords=the+black+hours

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Black-Hours-Alison-Williams-ebook/dp/B00G505UUO/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1383328662&sr=8-1

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The Black Hours Blurb

‘Look upon this wretch, all of you!  Look upon her and thank God for his love and his mercy.  Thank God that he has sent me to rid the world of such filth as this.’

1647 and England is in the grip of civil war. In the ensuing chaos, fear and suspicion are rife and anyone on the fringes of society can find themselves under suspicion. Matthew Hopkins, self -styled Witchfinder General, scours the countryside, seeking out those he believes to be in league with the Devil. In the small village of Coggeshall, 17–year-old Alice Pendle finds herself at the centre of gossip and speculation. Will she survive when the Witchfinder himself is summoned?

A tale of persecution, superstition, religious fundamentalism, hate and love, ‘The Black Hours’ mixes fact with fiction in a gripping fast-paced drama that follows the story of Alice as she is thrown into a world of fear and confusion, and of Matthew, a man driven by his beliefs to commit dreadful acts in the name of religion.

Alison Williams Interview

Name:      

Alison Williams

Website:         

alisonwilliamswriting.wordpress.com

Link to your Amazon page and or any other place that your books can be purchased:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Black-Hours-ebook/dp/B00G505UUO/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1383080839&sr=8-2&keywords=the+black+hours

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Black-Hours-Alison-Williams/dp/1492801402/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1383080839&sr=8-2

Where did you grow up?

Born in Bromley, Kent, then moved to Basingstoke, Hampshire at the age of seven.

What made you start writing?

I've always loved reading and have written 'books' ever since I was little. I trained as a journalist but I always wanted to be a novelist. When I hit forty I decided it was really time I did something about it and began to draft the first ideas behind 'The Black Hours'. It was really difficult juggling work, looking after two children and writing and I knew I needed to have some sort of structure to force me to spend a reasonable amount of time on the writing. So I decided to study for a Masters in Creative Writing. This really helped as it gave me deadlines that I needed to stick to and also provided me with some wonderful readers and editors who still read through my work.

Is it something that you have always wanted to do?

Definitely. If you had asked me at the age of ten what I wanted to be I would have said a novelist. And if you'd asked me at twenty and thirty!

What is your favourite genre to read, and do you have any favourite books or authors you would like to recommend?

I have a real interest in historical fiction (obviously) particularly Hilary Mantel. I think 'Wolf Hall' is fabulous but I actually prefer the somewhat lesser known 'A Place of Greater Safety' about the French Revolution. Outside of historical fiction, I think Alice Walker is wonderful. Elizabeth Kostova writes beautifully - 'The Swan Thieves' is brilliant.

Do you ever base your characters on anyone that you know, or are they solely from your imagination?

I really enjoy taking a period or person from history and looking at the story from a more obscure angle. So my characters are usually based on real people but the novels as a whole will also be from the point of view of those affected by that characters actions. So in 'The Black Hours' I was intrigued by Matthew Hopkins, the real Witchfinder General, but I also wanted to tell the story of how it must have been to be one of his victims. I think we sometimes forget that these events really happened, that people really suffered and reduce them to a number or to a list of names.

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ABOUT YOUR BOOK

Tell us about your latest book. The story/plot.

'The Black Hours' takes place in 1647 in the small village of Coggeshall, where seventeen-year-old Alice Pendle finds herself at the centre of gossip and speculation. Alice and her grandmother are cunning women - they use traditional cures and herbal remedies to help others, particularly women during labour. Matthew Hopkins, who actually existed, was responsible for the deaths of more than 200 women in a two-year period, a lot of whom were persecuted for being different or for having this sort of knowledge. 'The Black Hours' tells the story of what happens when Hopkins is summoned to Coggeshall.

What gave you the idea?

I've always been interested in the ordinary people behind the well-known stories in history. I think that the women tortured and murdered through religious intolerance, ignorance and superstition through the ages (and now) is a terrible tragedy that is not often addressed in fiction, or indeed in history.  We tend to forget that these were real people, with families, children, hopes, dreams and lives. Whenever I've read about history I've imagined myself in the shoes of those I've read about, and something about the story of these persecuted women really struck a chord. 


What genre is it?       

Dark historical fiction

 Who is your favourite character? And why.

I feel very close to Alice. Although she is the hero of the story in some ways, I also wanted her to be human and to feel how someone would have felt in her situations in. I think that all too often we expect our protagonists to be feisty and courageous, but I wanted Alice to behave and react in the way that a normal, ordinary young girl would in these circumstances. I also love Jennet - flawed though she is. She was so interesting to write.

And worst?

Matthew Hopkins! Although he has some serious competition in the form of Tom Everard!

What are your hopes for it?

I think that in the current climate it is so difficult for any new aspiring writers to break through. I hope that 'The Black Hours' is just the beginning of my writing journey.

What’s the project that you’re going to be working on next?

My next novel is provisionally titled 'Remember, Remember'. It tells the story of the infamous Gunpowder Plot from a rather mysterious point of view. There are rumours and speculation that Guy Fawkes was married but very little evidence to back this up. The novel is based on the premise that he did have a wife, and I find it fascinating to imagine what it would have been like for her, witnessing the persecution of her fellow Catholics and the fear she must have felt at her husband's involvement in such a dangerous plot. It is in the very early stages of research at the moment but I'm enjoying reading up about this period in history.

What’s the best piece of advice that you have been given in regards to your writing, and by whom?

Read your writing out loud. I honestly can't remember who told me to do this, but it works. This helps with so many things - typos, pace, dialogue, flow. I'm lucky that I work from home and the only one who thinks I'm mad when I do this is the dog! 

Now we get an excerpt from The Black Hours!

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The Black Hours Excerpt

Chapter 1

Alice pulled her cloak tightly around her as she pushed her way through the crowds. The gruesome shadow of the gallows loomed ahead, five rope nooses creaking in the bitter wind that whipped through Halstead’s bustling square. She wanted only to escape these people who knocked against her, surrounding her with their noise and smells. It had been a hard two days walk from Coggeshall in the biting cold and she was looking forward to the warmth and refreshment she would no doubt receive in Hannah’s home.

Around her vendors called their wares, children laughed or cried in excitement; women giggled and gossiped with each other, their breath cloudy in the freezing air, pausing now and then to slap their unruly offspring. Men told raucous jokes and drank toasts of warm ale, their voices rising above the howl of the wind.

‘It’ll be a good one today.’

‘That it will. Wish I’d got here earlier. Might’ve got a seat inside.’

Alice swallowed, her heart beating faster. This was not an execution then; indeed the accused had not yet stood trial. The nooses swayed as she passed by the gallows. Alice shivered as she imagined the poor souls that would soon dangle from those cruel ropes. She quickened her step, filled with a need to get to the safety and quiet of Hannah’s cottage.

She had not been to Halstead since the previous summer. The months since had been full of worry. Her father, Samuel, had taken ill, gripped by a cough that left him gasping for breath, his eyes wide with a fear that turned Alice cold. The harsh, long winter had only made him worse, and Alice and her grandmother Maggie were becoming desperate. Although skilled in the use of herbs and plants, nothing Maggie had given to Samuel had made a difference. Eventually they had been left with no choice but to seek the help of Hannah Woodbury, an old friend of her grandmother’s. Maggie had known the wise woman all her life, and had a high regard for her ability to cure ailments when all other remedies had failed. However, the two women had not been in contact for the past year. Alice had thought it was because of an argument, but as Maggie had packed her a basket of food to take on her journey, her eyes had been fearful.

‘Take care when you get to Halstead, Alice. Mind you speak to no-one. The fewer people that know you seek Hannah, the better.’

Alice had looked at her grandmother questioningly. Maggie had hesitated, then pursed her lips.

‘These are difficult times, Alice. There is so much suspicion.’

A series of wracking coughs from the bundle of blankets in the corner of the cottage had sent Maggie rushing to Samuel’s side. Despite her fear, Alice had smiled at her grandmother. She had to do something to help her father.

‘I will be fine, Grandmother. Do not worry. Besides, if Hannah knows how to help Father, then I have no choice.’

Now, as she finally made her way out of the crowds, Alice felt that fear again. She took a small, overgrown path that was sheltered from the icy wind by a row of scrabbling crab apple trees. The ground was slippery underfoot, the mud frozen around clusters of sharp stones that Alice could feel through the thin soles of her boots. The bare branches of dogwood and hawthorn snagged in her skirts, catching on her cloak as she left the noise of the square further behind. Hannah liked to keep a distance from others, choosing to live in a tiny cottage on the edge of some scrubland on the very outskirts of the town. Alice could understand why. More than once the old woman had been blamed for the bad luck, bad weather and disease that periodically caused death and destruction among the townsfolk. But Alice was sure that whenever those same people needed something, some curative for an affliction, a draught of herbs to see off an infection, or a potion to restore or relieve, they would turn to Hannah, conveniently forgetting the names they had whispered as she had passed them in the street, or the doors they had slammed in her face when times were hard and she was in need herself. And Alice was sure that Maggie had suffered the same way, though she tried to hide it, knew that it worried her as she watched Alice grow and learn about the powers of the plants that grew around them.

It was silent as she walked on, the cold having driven any creatures to ground. All Alice could hear was her own footsteps as her boots struck the solid earth and the relentless whistle of the wind. The path became more and more overgrown, and she was forced to push her way through the branches, the sleeve of her cloak wrapped over her hand to protect her from the thorns. It was as if no-one had passed this way for weeks. Through the silence came the distant sound of knocking. Alice paused for a moment, the cold catching at her throat, and listened carefully. There was definitely some sort of rhythmic thumping ahead of her. Puzzled, she pushed on, the noise becoming louder with each step. At last the branches grew thinner and she eventually stepped free; Hannah’s cottage standing alone in front of her.

It looked more run down than she remembered; the thatch was patchy in places, ivy straggled thin woody stems across the grimy walls and the door swung haphazardly on its hinges. This explained the knocking then, the door thumping back and forth in the wind. It was not like Hannah to leave her home open like this, vulnerable not only to the cold winds. No smoke billowed from the chimney either. Surely Hannah was at home? After all, she would not be in the town; she was not one to attend such horrible gatherings. Apprehension gripped Alice – no smoke meant no fire in the grate; perhaps Hannah was ill?

Cautiously she approached the cottage, her breathing heavy, fear combined with the cold clutching at her chest with each intake. The door continued to bang. As she drew nearer, Alice saw that only one hinge held the heavy door to the frame; the other was twisted, hanging from a single rusty nail. A boot-sized dent had caused the lower half of the door to buckle, the wood broken and splintering at the edges. Tentatively, Alice pushed against the upper half and the door flew inwards, into the darkness beyond. For a second Alice was taken aback by the stench. The air was musty despite the cold and was under laid by a fetidness that enveloped her, a closeness that made it even harder to breathe. It was as if a brimming pot had been left to stand for days. But Hannah was clean, scrupulous even, despite her poverty. Perhaps she was ill then, or worse.

‘Hannah, Hannah, are you there?’

Alice’s voice sounded too loud in the silence. There was no reply, only the howl of the wind in her ears.

‘Hannah, it’s Alice. Alice Pendle.’

Still silence. Grasping her cloak tighter, Alice stepped over the threshold. It was dark inside the cottage, no candle was lit, and the odour was stronger. Wrinkling her nose, Alice waited for her eyes to adjust. The door slammed behind her and then continued its banging, the hinge creaking in time. She turned and wedged her basket in the gap, relishing the quiet for a moment. Once used to the dimness, Alice could see that the room was in turmoil. Furniture was overturned and smashed. Jars lay broken on the floor. A few scraps of what looked like Hannah’s clothing were piled on the hearth, charred and singed. Someone had tried to start a fire with them – but who would do such a thing? Alice picked up a handful of the blackened remains, shaking her head in confusion, suddenly very afraid. Something dreadful had happened here.

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The Black Hours eBook Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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As always...

Happy reading!

Claire ♥