Genre: Mystery & Suspense
About dancegypsyLocation: Durango, Colorado, USA Home Region: Age:50 Favorite novels: Broken For You, The Dark Twin, Practical Magic, Wyrd Sisters, Round Ireland with a Fridge, Binding Spell, Dragonsinger, The Fifth Sacred Thing Favorite writers: Alice Hoffman, Donald Westlake, Jane Austen, Laurie King, Tracy Chevalier, Dorothy Gilman, Robert Heinlein, Elizabeth Peters, Anne McCaffrey, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Terry Pratchett Non-noveling interests: Dance, music, goddess lore, radio production, mead-making, travel, geocaching, psychology |
Joined: October 2, 2007 This Year: Municipal Liaison NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 72 NaNoWriMo buddies: 20
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Brief Author Bio: I signed up for Nanowrimo the first time just to keep my daughter company in frantic novel-writing--and was swept away by novelust. I found that I am passionate about writing fiction. I just love to write, and to encourage creative confidence in others. Write on! |
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Synopsis: Vanishing Daphne
The mother in the photograph smiles into the camera. Her baby squirms on her lap, an older boy tucked beside her. The children wear identical red and white sweatshirts.
I found the photo in a musty library book about Cornwall, written by the gothic romance author Daphne du Maurier in 1967. It’s called 'Vanishing Cornwall'. I don’t know how long the photo has been tucked in the book, between page 160 and 161. These pages tell of a Cornish ghost who haunted an orchard. "No one dared enter," Du Maurier writes, "and the apples were left to rot upon the trees."
Natasha, who lives there, tells me that Cornwall has not vanished, even after 42 years. She says that Cornwall was one of the first places to boycott products of the slave trade. To this day, some elderly Cornishmen don’t eat sugar. Slavery is long gone, but the habit of finding sweetness elsewhere lingers on.
In the photo, an older man stands behind the woman and her two sons. He is looking at something off to the side. He is not touching any of them.
On the back of the photo, there is a message written in blue felt-tip pen. "While waiting for his new trial, dad has finally been able to spend some time with the boys. I just can’t bear to tell them that “Grandpa” may be ordered back to prison."
Daphne du Maurier died twenty years ago, after living most of her lifetime in Cornwall. Natasha assures me that most Cornishmen have no idea who she was.
This novel will interweave my quest to solve the mystery of the photograph with my imaginings about the people in the picture. They have become characters with secrets, conflicts and desires that inflame this novel with suspense. It all begins with Daphne…
Excerpt: Vanishing Daphne
Edward is watching Jeopardy when he hears the sound of tragedy across the street. He knows the answer to the question, “This gothic romance writer wrote the novel Rebecca”, but the answer—"who is Daphne du Maurier?"—flies out of his mind. He gets up as quickly as his joints allow, pain shooting through his knees. When he peers through the yellowed lace curtains, the car is still rocking as if uncertain as to whether to make a commitment to rolling back onto its tires again. He hobbles to the phone and calls the police, giving a confused account that delays rescue for the few moments that would have been needed to save Mae’s eye.
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