Maggie will be awarding an eCopy of Outback Promise to 3 randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour, and choice of 5 digital books from the Impulse line to a randomly drawn host.
Outback Promise
by Maggie Bolitho
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Contemporary
Fiction
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
- What or who
inspired you to start writing?
From my earliest memory, I loved to compose stories and dream
up alternate worlds. Like a lot of children, fantasy was my only escape from a
dreary, often cruel, world. It wasn’t until Grade Nine that I had an English
teacher who opened the magic of language and literature for me. I loved understanding
how grammar worked and reading analytically. After one term with Peter Seale at
Central Junior High, my marks in English shot higher than they’d ever been
before.
For the rest of my academic life I was able to maintain
first class marks in English with very little effort. Still, I lacked the
confidence to try creative writing for many years. When I did, I had the
fundamentals of sound grammar, a good vocabulary and solid reading habits.
Decades of incubation finally paid off.
- What elements are
necessary components for this genre?
Outback Promise is contemporary fiction or
relationship fiction. Because there isn’t a clear ‘happily ever after’ ending,
it does not fit smoothly into the romance category even though there is a
strong love factor.
Necessary elements for this genre are well rounded,
realistic characters with a genuine conflict that could resolve in one of many
ways. This genre works best when it is multi- layered with different
revelations throughout the story.
- What expertise
did you bring to your writing?
The trip that Ros and Grady take through the Outback is
based on one my husband and I did in 2005. Before we set off, we prepared
extensively. When we left Sydney, where we lived at the time, I knew how to
drive a 4WD up and down a set of stairs, around a mud track with three foot
potholes hidden below the surface water. I understood the difference between
low range and high range and could raise the truck on an air jack to inflate
tyres after driving on sand.
At the end of the trip I’d hiked some of the most beautiful
areas of the remotest part of Australia. I knew how the vast continent
challenges and changes a person. It can make the incidental stresses of life
fall away or amplify them until they are out of proportion to what is really
happening.
All of this makes Outback
Promise a perfect opportunity for an armchair adventure into challenging
terrain, emotionally and physically.
- What would you
want your readers to know about you that might not be in your bio?
I’d like them to know that this is a work of fiction. Ros
and Grady are not me and my husband. Our marriage has never suffered the
devastating blows that theirs has. My marriage is more like Ros’s was before
she lost her only child.
- If you could be
one of the characters from this book, who would it be and why?
I’d love to be Shelly Tremaine. At one point Ros says Shelly
looks like a poster girl. A poster girl for survival. Shelly wakes up every day
full of joy about her life and insouciance about the opinions of the rest of
the world. She knows what she wants and no one is going to stand between her
and her goals. I love her determination and independence.
- Can you give us a
sneak peak into this book?
The first
few pages:
Restart – 2009
The trouble began six years ago. So I had to admit that Penelope wasn’t
the cause of the rift in my marriage. She was simply another symptom, like
joyless holidays and forgotten anniversaries.
Grady and I never discussed what went on with
the India-born, US and UK-educated siren, because to have spoken about it out
loud would have made it irrevocably real. I’d only met Penelope once, at an
office function. I’d known of her long
before that, ever since Grady first arrived home smelling of her citrus
perfume. The distress of that discovery had paralysed me. Everything I learned
about her, about them, from that day forward was locked away in a mental
strongbox.
As long as Grady and I pretended nothing had
changed, there was still a fall-back position – the lie that it had never
happened. Besides, it blew over eventually and I assumed the worst was behind
us.
Then, after I’d done my best to forget the
whole vile business, Grady joined me in the garden one Saturday morning. He
leaned against the kwila carver chair in the shade beside the house. ‘I’ve got
something important to talk about. Wanna go for a hike? Garigal?’
My heart turned to water and poured into my
stomach. I sat back on my heels and glanced up at my tall, solidly built
husband, searching his blue eyes for a hint of what he wanted to discuss. He
flashed a smile, all straight white teeth and winsome dimples, which revealed
nothing. I stabbed a branch of ivy and dragged it out of the patch of mauve Brachyscome flowers. The moment my mother predicted
years ago had finally arrived. She always said that I would fail as a parent
and as a wife.
‘Our kind aren’t cut out to fill a nest with babies or stand by some man
while he gets up to no amount of stupidity,’ she’d repeated as long as I could
remember.
No point in avoiding the inevitable, I
decided. I ducked my head and peeled off my gloves. ‘I’ll get changed.’
Numbness settled over me as I walked beside
him into the neutral territory of Garigal National Park. We’d been planning a
hike there ever since we moved to the Northern Beaches. Like a lot of plans
based on good intentions rather than remote likelihood, we’d never made it. We
hadn’t hiked anywhere since that last day with our son, Cadel.
I wondered if Grady was planning many new
experiences and what my life would be like without him.
The pungent smell of eucalyptus trees hung in
the morning air as we climbed a long, steep hill. Below us, thousands of acres
of rolling green forest stretched down to the sea as if untouched by the
passing centuries. We stopped for a break and I looked at the sandstone shelf
at our feet, to an engraving that I’d been told we would find here. I tried to
study the simple outline of a kangaroo, but I couldn’t concentrate because
Grady’s shiny new hiking boots kept catching my eye. They were feather-light,
waterproof, and cost more than three hundred Yankee dollars, bought in New York
when he worked there only a few months before. New York City. Where he and Penelope
spearheaded a major corporate merger.
When I met her at the drinks night in Grady’s Sydney office, the gold
tips in her dark hair danced under the boardroom lights. Her caramel skin
glowed with youthful good health and she greeted me with perfunctory courtesy.
For a moment, I thought I was mistaken. How could someone who was sleeping with
my husband treat me with such disinterest?
‘So Ros,’ Grady said, and sat on a rock
ledge. His broad-brimmed hat shaded his face and his long muscular legs
stretched out towards me. Scar lines etched his skin like an errant frost.
‘I’ve been thinking.’
Shadows fluttered over us as dozens of
sulphur-crested cockatoos tore through the sky, scolding and drowning every
sound for miles. When the birds passed and we could hear again, Grady sat up,
scratched his ankle, and coughed. ‘You know what we should do.’ His words
sounded rehearsed.
Unbidden, the rich, smoky caress of
Penelope’s voice whispered in my ear,
‘How do you do.’ All very how’s-your-father friendly, like she wasn’t
fucking my husband. Her high cheekbones and dark brown eyes loomed in front of
me and I could smell, almost taste, her perfume. Now she was back and he was
going to dump me. I tried to stay alert, but not too tense, in case I did
something pathetic like collapse in a heap when he uttered the word divorce.
‘We should take a sabbatical and head into
the Outback. Our own private walkabout. You know – do that trip I’ve always
wanted to do.’
His dream. Not
mine. I quickly corrected myself. He’s inviting me, not Penelope. A
chilly tremor of surprise ran over me. I laughed out loud.
- Do you belong to
a critique group? If so how does this help or hinder your writing?
One of the luckiest days of my writing life was when I
discovered my first, in-it-for-the-long- haul, critique partner. Allison Doke
lives in Atlanta Georgia and we’ve never met but she loved Outback Promise from
its roughest drafts. I kept shelving it and she’d wait a while and then ask to
look at it again. Of course I’d have to polish it before sending so I would get
involved with it afresh. She kept it on life support.
I now belong to a face to face, critique group with local
writers. When I am mired, there is always be a helpful perspective from one of
them that gets me back on track.
For me, good critique partners share mutual respect, work at
a similar pace, meet deadlines, and continue to upgrade their writing skills.
- Do you outline your
books or just start writing?
I always have a mental outline but I’m not locked into a
strict order of events. A large part of the joy of writing is discovering a new
angle or twist in a plot and exploring it, like a dirt track in the outback
that doesn’t show on the any map.
- How do you
maintain your creativity?
I read a lot, listen to audio books, and watch a lot of
movies. I listen to music and go to art galleries. I also take many long walks
in nature. Then I sit down and start hacking away at the coalface.
As Madeleine L’Engle
said, ‘Inspiration usually comes during work, rather than before it.’
- Who is your
favorite character in the book? Can you tell us why?
I adore Grady. He had a gifted life right until the day his
son died and his hip was shattered. That knocks him sideways and for years he
cannot cope with the pain, physically and emotionally. Still, he’s in love
enough and loyal enough to want to give the marriage one last chance. And he
picks the perfect way to start a team-building exercise with Ros. If he hadn’t
proposed the trip, they might have ended up an embittered old couple, stuck
together for life by vows that had ceased to be meaningful.
- Anything else you might want to add?
Yes, thank you for hosting me.
BLURB:
A few months ago, Ros discovered
Grady's affair.
With their marriage fast
disintegrating, they decide to take a three-month camping trip into the heart
of Australia to try and mend deep wounds and rekindle the fire that once fused
them close. This trip will decide the fate of their relationship: do they have
enough strength and enough love left to accept what life has put them both
through?
But trust and forgiveness don't come
easily, and Ros and Grady have to navigate not only the wilderness of the
Outback and the challenges of other travellers, but also the chasm of grief and
bitterness they have sunk into over the last six years. Their only hope for
survival lies in facing the secrets they have both tried to keep buried ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT:
The
trouble began six years ago, so I had to admit that Penelope wasn’t the cause
of the rift in my marriage. She was simply another symptom, like joyless
holidays and forgotten anniversaries.
Grady
and I never discussed what went on with the India-born, US and UK educated
siren, because to have spoken about it out loud would have made it irrevocably
real. I’d only met Penelope once, at an office function. I’d known of her long
before that, ever since Grady first arrived home smelling of her citrus
perfume. The distress of that discovery had paralysed me. Everything I learned
about her, about them, from that day forward was locked away in a mental
strongbox.
As
long as Grady and I pretended nothing had changed, there was still a fallback
position – the lie that it had never happened. Besides, it blew over eventually
and I assumed the worst was behind us.
Then,
after I’d done my best to forget the whole vile business, Grady joined me in
the garden one Saturday morning. He leaned against the kwila carver chair in
the shade beside the house. ‘I’ve got something important to talk about. Wanna
go for a hike? Garigal?’
My
heart turned to water and poured into my stomach. I sat back on my heels and
glanced up at my tall, solidly built husband, searching his blue eyes for a
hint of what he wanted to discuss. He flashed a smile, all straight white teeth
and winsome dimples, which revealed nothing. I stabbed a branch of ivy and
dragged it out of the patch of mauve Brachyscome flowers. The moment my mother
predicted years ago had finally arrived. She always said that I would fail as a
parent and as a wife.
‘Our
kind aren’t cut out to fill a nest with babies or stand by some man while he
gets up to no amount of stupidity,’ she’d repeated as long as I could remember.
No
point in avoiding the inevitable, I decided. I ducked my head and peeled off my
gloves. ‘I’ll get changed.’
Numbness
settled over me as I walked beside him into the neutral territory of Garigal
National Park. We’d been planning a hike there ever since we moved to the
Northern
Beaches. Like a lot of plans based on good intentions rather than remote
likelihood, we’d never made it. We hadn’t hiked anywhere since that last day
with our son, Cadel.
I
wondered if Grady was planning many new experiences and what my life would be
like without him.
The
pungent smell of eucalyptus trees hung in the morning air as we climbed a long,
steep hill. Below us, thousands of acres of rolling green forest stretched down
to the sea as if untouched by the passing centuries. We stopped for a break and
I looked at the sandstone shelf at our feet, to an engraving that I’d been told
we would find here. I tried to study the simple outline of a kangaroo, but I
couldn’t concentrate because Grady’s shiny new hiking boots kept catching my
eye. They were featherlight, waterproof, and cost more than three hundred
Yankee dollars, bought in New York when he worked there only a few months
before. New York City. Where he and Penelope spearheaded a major corporate
merger.
When
I met her at the drinks night in Grady’s Sydney office, the gold tips in her
dark hair danced under the boardroom lights. Her caramel skin glowed with
youthful good health and she greeted me with perfunctory courtesy. For a
moment, I thought I was mistaken. How could someone who was sleeping with my
husband treat me with such disinterest?
‘So
Ros,’ Grady said, and sat on a rock ledge. His broad-brimmed hat shaded his
face and his long muscular legs stretched out towards me. Scar lines etched his
skin like an errant frost. ‘I’ve been thinking.’
Shadows
fluttered over us as dozens of sulphur-crested cockatoos tore through the sky,
scolding and drowning every sound for miles. When the birds passed and we could
hear again, Grady sat up, scratched his ankle, and coughed. ‘You know what we
should do.’ His words sounded rehearsed.
Unbidden,
the rich, smoky caress of Penelope’s voice whispered in my ear, ‘How do you
do.’ All very how’s-your-father friendly, like she wasn’t fucking my husband.
Her high cheekbones and dark brown eyes loomed in front of me and I could
smell, almost taste, her perfume. Now she was back and he was going to dump me.
I tried to stay alert, but not too tense, in case I did something pathetic like
collapse in a heap when he uttered the word divorce.
‘We
should take a sabbatical and head into the outback. Our own private walkabout.
You know – do that trip I’ve always wanted to do.’
His
dream. Not mine. I quickly corrected myself. He’s inviting me, not Penelope. A
chilly tremor of surprise ran over me. I laughed out loud.
‘What’s
so funny?’
‘I
dunno.’ I laughed again, relieved and a little bit resentful. ‘Where did this
idea come from?’
He
removed his battered hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
‘I’ve
been thinking about it for the past couple of weeks as the days have been
getting shorter. Let’s give winter a miss. It’s always warm and sunny in the
red centre. You and me’ve had some nightmare years. Maybe if we get away from
everything we’ll find that old black magic again.’
‘Maybe
we will.’ I nodded and the kink in my neck clicked free. ‘That’s a lot to
unpack on short notice.’
How
long had I been marooned on my desert island? I stood and brushed the dust off
my dark brown shorts, untied the blouse from around my waist and pulled it over
my exposed shoulders. The sun was hotter than ever and I hoped it wouldn’t
burn.
Grady
unfolded his tanned legs and sprang to his feet beside me. He tried to kiss me
but I stepped away and started down the track to Bantry Bay and the old
Explosives Magazine. It was my way of saying maybe, and a spiteful part of me
gladdened at the hurt disappointment in his eyes. That’s the problem with being
a victim – pain turns you into a tormentor.
Excerpt
Two:
The
day my son died, he ate a Vegemite and banana sandwich for lunch.
His
small voice, almost forgotten now, jarred me awake that morning. ‘How do bees
get to school?’
Forty
pounds of energy scrambled onto the bed.
‘Who’s
asking me these questions so very early?’ I surfaced from a dream fog.
‘Mummy!
It’s sunny!’ Cadel wedged himself between his father and me. His breath smelled
like apple juice.
‘Okay,
so how do bees get to school?’
‘On
the school buzz.’
His
infectious giggle filled the room. I peered out at the bright blue sky and
abandoned all hope of sleeping in. We said we’d take him hiking with his new
backpack if the weather was good.
Grady
rolled over and grunted. His wavy dark hair hung in his eyes as he tried to
look stern. ‘Lady Rosalyn, do you know this little person?’
‘No,
Sir Grady, I do not.’
‘Should
we make him walk the plank?’
‘It’s
me, Daddy.’
‘What?
When?’ Grady shook his head. ‘Me? Me who?’
‘It’s
me! Cadel!’
‘I
don’t remember giving permission for you to come aboard. Are you sure you’re
not a pirate? I’d better give you the pirate test.’ He lifted Cadel’s pyjama
top and blew a raspberry on his soft stomach.
Cadel
shrieked and flailed his small arms.
I
slid out of bed and left the two of them, wrestling and twisting the sheets
into knots.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Maggie Bolitho grew up in
Victoria BC Canada, where she spent her childhood flying under the radar,
constructing alternate universes, and wishing to be somewhere over the rainbow.
Shortly after her 17th birthday she set out to see the world. Eventually, she
moved on to Australia.
While living Down Under and
exploring the outback, Maggie started writing fiction. Her adult short stories
have been published in various anthologies in Australia, the US, and Canada.
She has written for Quills Canadian Poetry magazine, her YA novel LOCKDOWN was
published in 2014, and in 2015 she published OUTBACK PROMISE.
http://www.maggiebolitho.com/
https://www.facebook.com/Maggie-Bolitho-1469040163352669/timeline/
https://twitter.com/maggiebolitho
Buy Link:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Outback-Promise-Maggie-Bolitho-ebook/dp/B013O98W6W/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1443033359&sr=8-1&keywords=Maggie+Bolitho
B&N:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/outback-promise-maggie-bolitho/1122500735?ean=9781460705667
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE
Maggie will be awarding an eCopy of Outback Promise
to 3 randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour, and choice of 5
digital books from the Impulse line to a randomly drawn host.
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f1340
