History, writing

The Giant of Wales

When I was growing up, I was told the story of a legend of a Giant whose body lay buried in Wales, near to the farm I grew up on. My mother often told me stories of fairytales, of trolls, that lived under bridges and goblins, that lived in cowpats and hid in Oak trees, but she always eventually admitted that these stories were the stuff of imagination. The Giant story however, she has maintained until this very day, some 20 years later, is very true. In her youth, she learned of the legend of the body of a man 100 feet tall, who lay buried under a bank of earth, and who was now covered by miles and miles of forestry that protected the secret of his existence. Her grandmother had related this story to her, and her father had also maintained the story was true. Her grandmother was a devout Christian and her father was a hardy farmer, so neither were really ideal candidates for telling fabricated tales. The story goes that the Giant was a great general that was buried in an area known as “Giant’s Cross”, named after the shape that the mound of earth he was buried under formed. This general died in a battle hundreds and hundreds of years ago. His burial ground reportedly still remains, untouched, in the shape of this cross.I have always longed to search for his remains, perplexed by the origins of this mystery, and the level of credibility that my mother has attached to the original account. Despite the lengthy history and level of authenticity ascribed to The Giant’s Cross and the Great General of a historic battle, I have yet to see mention of it in local history books or any other accounts of this story in the local area. My mother has speculated the site may relate to a battle from the Roman times, and I know that when I was a child, my mother also made mention to the discovery of Roman coins that had been unearthed on my farm. The mystery continues, and I may yet have to seek to solve it myself.



The dilemma of interest from literary agents over incomplete book

Hi everyone,

I figured it was about time that I posted something on here again. It has been a really long time since I have been active on my blog, and there are no excuses for that. I love writing so therefore I should be blogging everyday. That is my early new year’s resolution…to actively stick with my blog this year!

So a few updates on what is currently happening on the writing front.
Firstly the best thing ever happened to me(and this is going back a bit now, just to show you how behind I have gotten with everything!) I took part in the Pitch Your Novel to Curtis Brown using the #PitchCB and JoJo Moyes agent Sheila Crowley liked it, which is an invite to send her a submission! In addition to this, two members of the new writing team at Curtis Brown, Abbie Greaves and Lucy Morris also liked my twitter proposal! This was way back on the 30th September 2016…and guess what? I still haven’t sent it into them. Why not? Because I haven’t finished writing it yet! I don’t want to rush it and so far have only gotten about 20000 words down, but since they like the idea, I figured I should finish the whole novel off first, then refine it a lot and then send it into Curtis Brown for consideration. Hopefully, they will still be interested. But anyway, it made my day back in September so I thought I should share it with you.

Anyway, as stated above, I’m currently writing my novel with the added pressure that I don’t usually have when writing, of having agents express interest prior to my completing it. Arrrrrrragh! It is both a dream and nightmare situation at once. I so just want to get it out there, but a book is not something that can be rushed. Writing takes time, and for now, I shall bide my time, hoping that the market doesn’t change drastically and make my book no longer appealing, but still bearing in mind that a rushed work is a ruined work. Oh if only I had finished writing it back in September. Ah well, such is life.



A novel every six months challenge!

I have set myself the challenge of writing a novel every six months for the foreseeable future. It is not as difficult and as extreme as it may seem. It is easy manageable as long as you write a fair amount each day. Some people have written novels in a day and so I’m sure this is perfectly possible.The reason? I need to write a book that agents are going to go for. I’ve received only reject letters for the novels I’ve written so far(albeit positive ones!), and if I keep only writing a novel when the mood strikes then it’ll take me years to get published. A book every six months, in a variety of genres gives me a lot more scope to get an agent as soon as possible. That is, as long as I don’t rush the editing process in my haste! If nothing else, the challenge will sharpen my writing skills and act as a learning curve.

Meanwhile, I know the London Book Fair is coming up. I really want to go. Anyone know what kind of events they hold there? I’ve never been before so I’m not sure what they hold for writers and debut authors.



So I’ve just finished my first horror novel and it has now gone out to an agent, so I’m waiting for a response.

While I’m waiting to see if I can get my new novel published, you can view my already published book The City of the Broken at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-the-broken-ceri-beynon/1118942897?ean=2940045772396


Step away from the computer!


So I had been sitting at my PC for hours, waiting for inspiration to strike…and nothing. True writer’s block in every sense of the word. I wrote a couple of bleak and bland sentences to try and break the drout by forcing myself to write something, but they were so uninteresting that I found myself giving up and shutting down my computer without having written even a hundred words. It is times like these that every writer dreads.

As soon as the computer was off however, the ideas flowed like some enchanted waterfall. I got a pen and paper(remember those old things?) and conceived an idea for a new novel that excites me in a way no other project I have come up with before has!
And it was all because I gave myself a moment to reflect and let go of the pressure of having to write something. You should try it! The next time you find yourself staring hopelessly at a blank page word document, switch your computer off…and who knows? You might actually come up with something good!


By the way, in between those braindead ‘I don’t know what to write moments’ and conceiving my top secret new novel idea, I did manage to find time to write this for Diane Debella’s Iamsubject project…check it out on her website:


Ebook, writing

Band of the Broken Brotherhood available to buy now on Amazon

Band of the Broken Brotherhood, the second in the City of the Broken trilogy is available to buy now in all amazon stores.US: UK:  I am really excited about getting started on the third and final book now :)!! 

The second book is a lot more darker than the first one! This is not so much a love story, as a fast paced adventure, with a little romance and mystery thrown in for good measure! 



77,000 words down and I have officially completed the second book in my ‘The City of the Broken’ trilogy. Just a whole lot of editing to do now! It’s always a bit of a momentous yet slightly sad occasion to finish a novel. It’s taken me since last July to complete so I have written it slightly quicker than my first one. I really enjoyed writing it, and it’s definitely been an adventure. I feel I have learnt a lot about my characters, their motives and goals, and some darker sides to them that have surprised me. 


How do you feel when you finally complete a project than you’ve been working on for ages? 


10,000 words to go!

So, I’m getting very close now to finishing the second book in my ‘City of the Broken’ trilogy. It’s always a bit of a sad yet satisfactory occasion to be nearing the end of writing a book. But I’ll still have one more book to write, so my characters journeys are not quite at a close yet.

I am always inspired to write after reading. And, in turn I have began to wonder how much the world of other’s books influences the shape and plot of my own story.

As I am currently reading a horror story, I have noticed that my second City of the Broken title has become darker and edgier, even though its a young adult novel.

Have you found this while writing? Music can also be of great influence on writing. Stephenie Meyer has admitted that music plays a huge part in her writing process and I find that’s true for me as well. Some of the plot of my first City of the Broken book was inspired by three songs, all by different bands. Even the title of the books was inspired by a song!

Ebook, writing

First chapter of young adult/teenage novel ‘The City of the Broken’.

The one trait that I’d always considered my biggest flaw-my moodiness, was to prove my greatest asset. The one that led me to joy, love and my happily ever after. If only that was permitted to be. Chapter One.
Prince of the Broken

I caught the bouquet, it’s the first time it’s ever happened to me. All the guests looked on, amazed. Its just a bunch of flowers. That was last summer and I’m still single.
I’ve seen this guy I like. His eyes struck me like a lightning bolt. He had me from the very beginning. He’s physically flawless but a secret lurks beneath. That’s what intrigued me, this masquerade of perfection.
I’ve only ever wanted this one man. I thought I might be asexual, but now I realize that I’m not. I see him everyday around the school. I won’t be just another girl falling for this untouchable human being. I’ve said ‘hi’ to him in the hall out of politeness but that’s it.
Books are my thing .I have a favourite spot in the library, my table. I go alone to do my assignment. I pour over a Sociology book, devouring the facts before I evaluate them.
“Hi,” a male voice interrupts my study.
I look up and see him in front of me.
“Hello,” I say shyly, wondering what he wants.
“Can I sit with you?”
“Sure, okay,” I say baffled.
“What’s your name?”
“Seren, and you?”
“I’ve seen you around. I had to ask you, are you happy?” he asks.
“I’m okay, just bored by all this studying, ” I reply.
“No. I mean in life in general, have you ever been happy?”
Now I am confused. Why is a person I’ve hardly ever spoken to asking me this question?
“Why do you ask?” I enquire trying to find his motive.
“Just answer the question,” he persists.
Honestly I’m not sure I want to answer.
“I guess I’m not truly happy. There‘s a lot in my life I‘d want to fix,” I reply honestly.
“Okay, I’ll speak to you again tomorrow,” he says getting up to leave.
“What?” I ask as he walks away ,stalked by female eyes.
“Tomorrow, library, lunchtime,” he says in a matter of fact tone.
That was bizarre. This guy makes me feel like I have to question who I am.

After school, I go shopping. I cannot stop thinking about him, he’s so unusual. I wonder why he wants to speak to me again. Maybe he’s a philosophy student and has asked loads of students this question.
I curiously check social networking websites but I can’t find him. What baffles me is that he paid attention to me. No guys ever do. But I consider his question. “Are you happy, have you ever been happy?”
Maybe I look depressed. I’ve always been told I don’t smile much but that doesn’t necessarily equate unhappiness. Perhaps he’s a psychology student researching depression. I’ll ask him tomorrow.

I’m late for class so scuttle in, trying to be invisible. It’s sociology. I sit next to Charlotte. I talk about her boyfriend to wake her up.
“How’s it going with you and Adam?”
“Good thanks. Have you seen any guys that you like?”.
“Most guys in school are dating, and the ones that aren’t…well there’s a reason for that,” I smirk.
“That supermodel -alike is single, have you seen him?” She asks and I know instantly who she’s referring to.
“Why is he single? He can’t be short of candidates,” I say.
“Maybe he is foreign,” says Charlotte.
“Actually I spoke to him yesterday. He’s definitely not foreign.”
“Really? I’ve never even heard him speak,” she says sounding surprised.
“Does he study philosophy?” I ask hoping to clarify this.
“No, he studies history. I’ve seen him in Professor Thornton’s class,” she says.
“Oh.” I say, slightly concerned that he has targeted me specifically.
“Calix is really brainy .We were taking IQ tests and he got 149,” Charlotte says.
“Wow, isn’t that genius level?” I ask impressed.
“Yes, I think so,” says Charlotte.
“Gorgeous and smart, that’s a rare combination,” I say and Charlotte nods in agreement.
Walking to the library at lunchtime, I feel daunted. This is why he wanted to speak to me. He must have seen me in here reading and figured that I’m as brainy as him. He’s probably expecting some intellectual debate, but I’ll end up feeling like a fool. I walk over to my usual table, a spot where few people go. He’s already there waiting for me.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“So what’s all this questioning about?” I ask.
“You’re unhappy Seren, I know you are. You’re sad and lonely.”
I am horrified, this guy has got a nerve.
“Excuse me, you can’t tell me how I feel. You don’t even know me.” I screech but he ignores me.
“Are you doing some sort of unhappiness assignment?” I probe.
“No. I’m saying this because I can tell how you feel. You know I‘m right.”
I don’t answer because what he’s saying is true .I do feel lonely.
“Will you meet me tonight at seven?” he asks abruptly.
Is the best looking guy on campus asking me on a date? I can’t help but do a mental victory dance.
“Okay, where?” I ask. I should tell him to get lost, but no sane girl ever would.
“By the gate next to the Graveyard,” he says.
The Graveyard is directly opposite the school. Seems like an odd place to meet a date.
“Umm okay.” I say, hoping I won’t have to wait long in the dark.
“Where are we going after I meet you?” I ask.
“You’ll see,” he smiles knowingly.
“Let me ask you something.”
“Go on,” he says smiling his enigmatic smile.
“Are you speaking to me because you think I’m a genius?”
“No. I’m speaking to you as I have something to show you, and tonight I will,” he says.

After school, I go straight home to plan what I’ll wear tonight. I want to look good but as it’s a cold night ,I need to be warm. I choose a black skirt, woolly tights and a pink top.
I feel a bizarre combination of livid at being called lonely and euphoric for being asked out by him. How unromantic of him to pick a graveyard as a meeting place. I hope he’s not going to murder me. Despite my doubts, my curiosity gets the better of me and I head towards the school/graveyard at 6:50.

The graveyard doesn’t bother me in the daylight, I’m not fazed by death. But in the dark it’s a different matter. I hope this isn’t some twisted joke he’s playing. Pick some pathetic girl, get her to come to a graveyard alone at night, then just don’t turn up.
Just as I am letting my imagination overtake my rationality, I see him standing by the rusty gate that is situated next to the cemetery. It has had a padlock around it for as long as I can remember.
“Hey you’re right on time,” he smiles, looking surprised as though he thought I might not come.
“So are you. I was worried you might stand me up,” I say relieved that I don’t have to wait for him.
“No, of course I wouldn’t. You intrigue me so much you know,” he says charmingly.
I intrigue him? I don’t think I’ve ever felt so complimented.
“So what did you want to show me?” I ask still wondering why he brought me to this location.
“Wait and see,” he says retrieving a antique key from his coat pocket.
He unlocks the padlock and the gate creeks as it opens, startling me.
“Where does this lead, another part of the cemetery?” I ask because its hard to tell what lies behind the gate. Bushes have grown up all around.
“No. Follow me and be careful,” he says holding out his hand.
It looks as though no one has entered through this gate for a long time. Even though I’m with Calix, I feel scared.
We walk through what I take to be an overgrown garden. I try my best to avoid the thorns and branches but its not easy. His navigation does help though, he seems to know this place well.
“I hope I’m not standing on anyone’s grave,” I say because its too dark to tell.
“There are no graves in here,” he reassures me.
As the overgrowth gets sparser I can see streetlamps ahead of me. Maybe this is just a shortcut to town.
We head through a clearing of trees and find ourselves in a new part of town . The first thing that catches my eye is a black skyscraper. Actually, every building is black. One shop has a neon purple sign, although every outfit in the window is black. This is extreme. Every person I see bustling about is wearing black. Have I gone colour blind?
“Is this where all the Goths hang out?” I ask
“This is the City of the Broken,” he says as we walk further in.
A large sign of varnished black wood with purple lettering reads “Welcome to the City of the Broken”.
“I haven’t heard of it before. Is it a trendy part of town?” I ask, baffled.
“No. You can only find out about this place if you are invited by the Prince himself,” he informs me.
“Well who is the Prince?” I ask before the realization of what he has said hits me.
“Wait…you?” I ask
He nods .
“You’re a Prince?”
He nods again, looking as though he’s trying to gauge my reaction as good or bad.
“Who rules with you?”
“My Father is King. My Mother died when I was young. I don’t have any siblings so I’ll be King one day .”
This guy is too much for my ordinariness to take.
“So why do you come to our school? Surely you should be privately educated if you’re a prince,”
“That’s what my Father wanted but I insisted on going to a regular school,” he says.
“So that you could be ‘normal’, ”I say guessing his answer.
“No. Actually its so I could scout potential citizens,” he says
“Citizens?” I ask not really understanding what he means.
“Citizens to join our city,” he smiles at me.
“So you want me to be a citizen?” I ask.
I feel idiotic for thinking His Royal Hotness would want to date me. This is just business to him.
“Remember how I asked you if you were happy?” he asks.
“Sure. How could I forget?”
“I see you in the corridors. You never smile. You look lost, lonely and depressed.”
“And?” I ask feeling more insulted than ever.
“Those are the features we look for in citizens,” he says.
“What?” I ask in disbelief.
“We are the City of the Broken. We want broken hearts, depressed people, rejects and the like,” he says in an official tone.
“Okay, you want me to be a member of your city because you think that I’m a reject?” I ask feeling on the verge of bursting into tears or punching him in the face. I should have known he would never want me.
“It really isn’t like that, the city is thriving. I’m well aware it’s the quiet and melancholic types who actually have the most potential,” he says convincingly.
“Okay then, Prince, if you’re ruler of this city, do you have the qualities needed? Are you broken?” I ask.
“Yes, of course. As the head of state, I make it my mission to embody the traits of the city,” he says in a formal tone.
“This is absolutely crazy. Goodbye,” I say turning back towards the overgrowth.
“Wait, there’s something else,” he says longingly.
“What?” I yell, losing my patience and self confidence by the second.
“Would you like to go out with me?” he asks.
And suddenly my interest is rekindled.
Now I am confused .He has exceeded even my expectations of him.
“But you’re a prince, I felt out of your league even before you told me this.”
“But Seren I like you. I’ve been curious about you ever since I first saw you. I knew I’d have to pluck up the courage to ask you to be a citizen. That was my formal reason to ask you here, but casually it was always my intention to ask you to date me.”
This boy fascinates me in a way no human ever has before. Its because there is a mystery or charisma I can’t put my finger on.
“Okay, yes,” I smile shyly
“Brilliant, I’m so pleased. I’ll meet you tomorrow in school, then afterwards we can come straight here and I’ll give you a guided tour” he smiles, his eyes glowing with expectation.
Wow. He makes me feel so alive.
We walk back through the thorns and through the gate.
“Are you really a prince?” I ask. This is so overwhelming.
He opens up his blazer and inside is a stitched coat of arms, C.B with a dagger through a broken heart.
“I’ll show you the palace tomorrow if you don’t believe me,” he says.
“So, library tomorrow at 12?” he asks.
“At my table,” I smile
“Your table,” he says as he takes my hand and kisses it.
He’s like a chivalrous knight. I feel like a Maiden. I flush from embarrassment and joy. If you have to be depressed to be a member of this city, he isn’t going about it in the right way.

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