BLOG TOUR| Floored


Today's blog post is a little different if this is the first post you've seen, or you have missed a day see the links for Lily, Aoife, and Emma.

When I got an email asking if I would like to participate in a collaborative blog tour for Floored, I was a little hesitant. Let's just say I have one too many bad experiences of group projects that I like to avoid them at all costs. Only this has been the most wonderful experiences I've had. Its been an honor to work with these six bloggers and see what we came up with creatively.

My prompt was Hugo's from his opening chapter:
God, the North is ghastly.
Instead of using Hugo, I had the idea of Richard-James Briath. I'm not one for talking about my writing so I'll leave you to read and if you would like to comment, please do, but don't be mean!

RJ Braith

          God, the North is ghastly, thought Richard-James as he witnessed the changing landscape.

 Soon, too soon, were the flat-roofed houses of Chelsea and Kensington gone from his view and 


replaced by the mile stretches of fields, all of which Richard-James fooled himself into thinking he's 


like to retire to before the smell of horse manure entered into the carriage. Of course, what RJ


thought of the 'North' was the Southerner approach - anything that was remotely above the border of 


Birmingham.


          The woman across from him began to talk to herself, often making punctuated remarks that she


wasn't being valued as a member of the team; RJ couldn't help it he told her to shut up. She stopped 


for a whole three minutes before continuing that if she was a valued member of her team, her boss 


would have let her sleep in and get the later train to the conference. 


          Richard-James removed his kindle from a hidden pocket inside his suit jacket and 


entered into the realm of: How to Talk to Anyone - a Guide for the Tech Generation, and settled into


his first-class, window seat on the 0607 Virgin West Coast Train to Blackpool.

          He felt it buzzing in his breast pocket, thankful that he had turned off sound 


notifications as it vibrated once, twice, a third time before he removed it and looked at the text 


messaged.


          Angie

          06:32 | You forgot the company pass

          06:33 | and the schedule pack


          06:33 | i'll call the hotel


          06:47 | pls tell me you at least some id?!


          He decided that he would rather not respond, to just continue his planned budget seaside 


holiday and keep to the complicated facade of the tech conference.   


          Angie

          06:58 | RJ?

          Richard-James

          06:59 | I didn't forget anything I didn't mean to 😂

          Angie

          07:01 | what is that meant to mean? 

          07:04 | RICHARD-JAMES!


          07:06 | RJ, this is an important opportunity for the growth of the company


          07:07 | DON'T screw this up. I'll know if you don't turn up


         Richard-James

         07:07 | I won't.

          He put his phone back into his left pocket and went back to reading trying to not snap at the


woman again as she continued muttering about work - only RJ was never one to hold back his 

tongue, its how he got his reputation as the no-nonsense businessman that most people try avoiding.

          "Listen," he leaned over to address the woman who was sat two tables ahead. "Can you just, I 


don't know? Shut up?"

          "Excuse me?"


          "You heard me - be quiet. I've already asked you once and you're not the only working person


 on this train. You're tired? Take a nap!"

          At 0937 the train pulls into Blackpool North station. At 0937 the train is running twenty 

minutes late as RJ closes the case on his Kindle, 8% from finishing his Tech Generation 

guide and tucks it back into the inside pocket of his navy suit jacket. And that was it, he was ready to 

depart onto platform 1. Richard-James didn't bring much with him, nor has he ever had since the 

incident in year 7 when he had been drop-kicked by the school bully Peter Franklin. His bag had 

been weighed down by his P.E kit, his pencil case full with a 32-pack of Staedtler colouring pencils, 

science textbook and a paperback copy of Holes by Louis Sachar that day. Most kids would have 

dropped the bag and legged it, but RJ took pride in the belongings he had been trusted to borrow and 

have.

          For once in his life, Richard-James exits the station and  hasn't got a clue what direction he is

 meant to be heading in. And the Uber app isn't very either.

          "Manchester? Manchester!" exclaims RJ. "How else am I meant to hail a cab?" 

          RJ really didn't like the North.

         "You ring up." A man's voice answered and hands over a card for Premier Taxis.

         "Thanks, mate."

          The man did a sort of hand bob in thanks before heading out of the station and onto the street.

RJ called the number.

          "Hello, Premier Taxis," a woman greeted RJ on the other side of the phone.

          "Hi, yes, could I book a cab please?"

          "Yes, where from?"

          RJ looked around trying to find the road location of the station, giving up he gave just the 

station name, "Blackpool North?"

          "And where you headed?"

          "Foxes Hotel."

          "We haven't got anything for fifteen minutes, that okay?"

          "It'll have to."

          "Sorry, Sir?"

          Yes." 

          "That's all booked for you know."

          Less than a minute of hanging up the phone, RJ received a text with a booking reference 

number. 
          
          Richard-James should know better than looking at your watch every half-second only makes 

time go slower than just entertaining himself - that's what iPhones were invented for. When the cab

turned up, a blue Ford Focus, he sat in the back and told the bloke where he was going. The 

cabbie tried to make conversation and soon stopped after realizing there is no hope in talking to a 

Londoner. 

          Foxes Hotel was not quite falling to pieces but could have done with a little lick of paint to 

patch up the paling pink and a small readjustment to the sign that seemed to be not quite straight. He

went in and found the desk straight away.

          "Good morning!" Greeted a woman on the desk.

          "I have a room booked for the weekend." Her badge read that her name was Emily.

          "You're a bit early, check-ins aren't for another hour." RJ remained silent, hoping that his 

silence might be enough to make her squirm. It worked. "Name?"

          "Braith. Richard-James Braith."

          "Richard-James? Usually, it's the surnames that are double-barrelled?" Her remark was posed 

more as a question, RJ wasn't going to give up answers that easily. Wasn't his fault his mother could 

decide what quintessential British name she liked more. Emily didn't push and handed over a key, 

"Room 6."

          "Thank you, Emily. Before I forget, who do I need to talk to about the conference?"

          "Try Elvin over there," she pointed to a boy at a set of double doors. "He'll register you and get

you ticked off the list."

          "Cheers."

          Key collected, Richard-James now had the bother of trying to get ahold of another conference 

schedule and his pack. He turned and walked towards the boy, Elvin, that Emily had pointed to.

         "You here for the conference?"

          "I am."

          "Have you got your company pass?"

          "Well, you see," began RJ.

          "No worries. Name?"

          "Braith. Richard-James Braith." Elvin looked down a paper list and marked a tick next to what

RJ assumed was his name.

          "Got any ID on you?"

          Richard-James reached into another one of his pockets and took out a wallet and presented 

Elvin with a driving license and his office ID.

          "The first panel will be on at twelve, sir," said Elvin. "Please feel free to drop your...


valuables... up to your room and come down before the convention starts."

          "Convention? Thought it was a conference."


          "Convention? Conference? Their pretty much synonyms." 

          "Easy to discern, one is full of scrawny geeks and the other full of - "


          "People like you?"

          "Exactly." His face contorts into what Richard-James thought was an attempt at his own 'I 

know more than you think and I'm laughing at you' face he often used during meetings back in the 

office.
- End -          

Floored
Sara Barnard; Holly Bourne; Tanya Byrne; Non Pratt; Melinda Salisbury; Lisa Williamson; Eleanor Wood

Add to Goodreads

UK Publisher: Macmillan Children's Books
UK Release Date: July 12th, 2018

Synopsis:

When they got in the lift, they were strangers (though didn't that guy used to be on TV?): Sasha, who is desperately trying to deliver a parcel; Hugo, who knows he's the best-looking guy in the lift and is eyeing up Velvet, who knows what that look means when you hear her name and it doesn't match the way she looks, or the way she talks; Dawson, who was on TV, but isn't as good-looking as he was a few years ago and is desperately hoping no one recognizes him; Kaitlyn, who's losing her sight but won't admit it, and who used to have a poster of Dawson on her bedroom wall, and Joe, who shouldn't be here at all, but who wants to be here the most.

And one more person, who will bring them together again on the same day every year.

About Floored: 
Floored is a one-of-a-kind collaborative novel written by seven of the UK's (ok the WORLD'S) finest Young Adult authors: Sara Barnard, Holly Bourne, Tanya Byrne, Non Pratt, Melinda Salisbury, Lisa Williamson and Eleanor Wood. 

Told from the perspective of each character and a mysterious narrator, Floored is about all the ups and downs of life. After they go through a traumatic experience together, the lives of six strangers become intricately intertwined, and they decide to meet once a year to commemorate the day they met. Each character, each chapter, each story told – the writing of Floored was a truly collaborative process right from the start. From picking a distinct and interesting character and deciding on the book’s larger narrative arc, to figuring out who was going to fall in and out of love over the course of the book. 

Floored is a novel of consequences, six stories seamlessly woven together by seven hugely talented authors. With so many different imaginations at work brilliant and unexpected things could – and would – happen.



Comments

Popular Posts