Before the Moon Ceremony

The problem with book extracts is that even short pieces of writing need a beginning - middle - end structure, and an extract is usually part of just one of those. An extract gives you a sense of style, genre, and content (possibly) but leaves you wondering what the story is. Why are these people here? Why are they doing that? Who cares? So to make it more interesting, I will reveal that this extract, from the second adventure of my wife Caroline, entitled Shameless Exposure , is from the middle of the book. All you have to do is work out a beginning and an end which are satisfying to you. By all means let me know what you come up with...

The tables were filled with smiling, chattering women. Nobody missed dinner this time, and not just because of the bottles of wine on the tables. Everyone was looking forward to the moon ceremony. For the majority, it would be their first attempt to make contact with an animal spirit. It would also be, except for the wayward Jocasta, their first physical release for at least twenty seven days, a release they had been skirting around with increasing difficulty in their daily practice.

The upper reaches of the legal profession were one of the few remaining areas of modern work life, apart from rubbish collection, which was still a predominately male environment. Robert was not used to being outnumbered so comprehensively and sat down next to Angus for moral support once he had collected his bowl of yellow lentil stew with yellow rice from the kitchen.

“Ye decided to stay then?” said Angus, taking off his cap and placing it on the table.

“Regina more or less insisted, but I am curious to see the ceremony.”

“Well I hope ye are feeling energetic. Ye may be in demand later on.”

“Not me, I’m married.” Robert picked at his lentils, his appetite not stimulated by the smell or the texture.

“There’s no one married on Mura. That’s what Miss Heart says, anyway. Ye best be prepared. Eat yer stew.”

“What about you? Are you married?”

“Nay. I’m still looking for the right girl. There’s not many single lasses on Sporran.” From his grizzled looks, Robert guessed Angus had been looking for a long time. Angus drained his cup of wine.

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Aye, lived there all my life.”

“What about the women who come to Castle Dunlaggin? Lots of them seem to be single and looking for something or someone.”

Angus leaned towards Robert and spoke conspiratorially. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad of the work ferrying people here and there and doing odd jobs for Miss Heart. But most of these lasses are wrong in the head. I wouldn’t want a girl of mine to get up to what they get up to.”

“But surely there’s nothing wrong with masturbation?”

“In front of strangers?”

“But it’s not just mindless sex, is it? They’re trying to connect with some bigger power, develop themselves spiritually.”

“You’ve no been taken in by this nonsense have you?”

“Not taken in I hope. I’m just trying to keep an open mind. It’s part of my training.” Robert immediately wished he hadn’t reminded Angus that he was a lawyer. Angus gave him a look of contempt and refilled both their cups with wine.

“Well don’t say I didn’t warn ye.” That was Angus’s final word on the matter, so Robert struck up a conversation with a stocky woman sitting on the other side of him. Linda was older than most of the other acolytes, in her forties he would guess. Robert noticed she hadn’t touched the wine in the cup in front of her. She said she was divorced and this was part of her project to get her life back together. She had decided to expose herself to as many new experiences as possible.

“What about you?” Linda said. “I’ve only been here two weeks but I gather it’s unusual for men to participate in the programme.”

“I’m not here for the programme,” said Robert. “I came to help Regina with a legal matter and ended up staying longer that I expected.”

“But I’m sure I saw you come out of one of the practice rooms with Georgina?”

“Yes well, it’s hard not to get drawn in if you spend a few days here. It does raise some questions.”

“Yes, it does,” said Linda. “More questions than answers. I’m hoping I’ll understand it all better after the ceremony.”

“Me too,” said Robert. 

My books are available to download from Amazon. Start HERE

Shameless Exposure: The Review

Part of me expects to get beaten over the head when I reveal more of the recent experiences of my wife, Caroline. I know some things would be better left unsaid, but writing is a compulsive activity, and I can't ignore the material that's right there in front of my nose. Caroline hasn't read Shameless Exposure to the end yet, so I have no bruises. She did contribute a couple of chapters, but that's another story. Better still, the fab people at Readers' Favorite have produced a review which gives the author, me, great heart.

When Caroline does read it, I will direct her to this review before she starts throwing things.It demonstrates, I think, that at least one person in America understands me.

Book Review

Reviewed by Natasha Jackson for Readers' Favorite.

Robert Fanshaw takes readers on a fantastic voyage filled with interesting characters from all walks of life in Shameless Exposure. From the very first page we know this story is going to be unique. Starting with an ominous warning letter of a Bigger woman causing trouble to an accidental turn as a prostitute, Robert and Caroline prove to be quite the characters themselves. But the real trouble starts when Caroline agrees to model for a calendar to raise money for cancer research. It’s a great cause, so what’s the problem? The problem is Erik, the artist behind the calendar and Caroline’s world famous ex-lover. Then a million dollar case takes Robert off to Scotland where the oddities really pop up like a crocus in the snow.

In Scotland, Robert and then Caroline are unwitting pawns in a twisted mind game perpetuated by a woman who fancies herself as a prophet. As leader of her own cult, Regina is in the position to execute a revenge plan that threatens Robert and Caroline’s relationship. Robert Fanshaw does a good job painting these odd creatures from the nuances of their speech to the manipulative vagueness of Regina’s slow revelations. There is a lot to be learned from every character in the subtleties he presents in every word chosen that reveals so much about each character. The plot twists in Shameless Exposure were enough to keep me glued to the book until the very end. This story is written in a very ‘British’ style that is more cerebral than action-packed, but that just made the story more enjoyable and realistic. Both realistic and as fantastic as this could be.

Any further support, via the comments section below or reviews on Amazon would be much appreciated and may help prevent personal injury.

Caroline asks the questions

Caroline Fanshaw interviews her husband, Robert on the publication of his latest novel-length memoir, Shameless Exposure.

Caroline:  I want some straight answers, Robert. I notice that you gloss over your first visit to Castle Dunlaggin and in particular your relationship with the models Joni, Greta, and Georgina. Did something happen you’re not telling me about?

Robert:  When I’m writing a book I can’t include everything that happened, much as I might like to. I don’t deny that I found them very attractive, Georgina in particular. She was so symmetrical, perfect she said for bikini shoots. The flowing robes worn by the acolytes sat well on her tall frame. She said she only there to lose weight, but she looked good to me. Joni, on the other hand, took the programme very seriously. She really believed in the spirit guides.

Caroline:  Why on earth did you go there in the first place? Don’t you feel embarrassed that you were taken in by Regina Heart’s bogus cult?

Robert:  I wouldn’t say I was taken in by it. My legal training means I try to keep an open mind. I leave judging people down to the judge. I often take cases which seem far fetched, but the client deserves to be represented. It’s easy to judge these things with hindsight, but at the time the Orgatron training regime was gaining converts all over the world. Don’t pretend you weren’t tempted. If not, why did you audition for high priestess?

Caroline:  I’m the one asking the questions, Robert. And it wasn’t an audition. It was ordeal. He was the quite biggest, roughest man I have ever seen. Where was I? Oh yes; how did you persuade Angus to ferry you back to the island on the night of the solstice moon ceremony?

Robert:  Double malt whiskies were the key. Good man, Angus. He knew I’d drown if I tried to go across alone. We nearly did drown when the boat smashed into the slipway.

Caroline: Bogus philosophy aside, do you think anyone benefited from Regina’s Orgatron training?

Robert: I’d have to say yes. Wouldn’t you? I mean, sex is fantastic since you did the practice. And Jocasta says she is a changed woman. I thought at the time that Regina was being much too harsh with Jocasta, but the sessions in the dungeon and on the rack seemed to cure her completely.

Shameless Exposure, the second book in the 'My Wife Caroline' series, is published by Steam eReads and available on Amazon via this link:

goo.gl/DvujEy

Miss August

Hello, my name is Xena Bardot and Robert has asked me to say a little about myself. I am French, I live in London, and I run a design consultancy with Craig. Craig and I share accommodation and friends. We both have a passion for design, adding the little touches to everyday objects which nobody notices. Robert has been kind enough to include me in his new book, Shameless Exposure, which is published next week by Steam eReads.

I can't say I know Robert very well because our paths crossed only briefly at the launch of series of artistic nude paintings done for charity. That was the famous night at the National Portrait Gallery when Princess Fiona of East Anglia revealed her love for a lady-in-waiting and gave up her royal titles to become simple Dame Fiona of Fakenham.

I do, however, know his wife Caroline very well, and count her among my friends. I count everyone I have a bath with as a friend. I remember the first time we met. I had already heard much about her from Erik Bellinker, one the artists commissioned to do the charity paintings. I was his model for August, and in the hours I lounged on some bales of hay in his studio, I often had to listen to him going on about how wonderful Caroline was. I don't know if he was trying to make me jealous because at other times Erik was all over me.

Caroline was his autumn model to take advantage of her red hair. Erik started scheduling his work on August and November back to back so that we were both in the studio at the same time. I knew what Erik was up to; he has exotic tastes. It was no surprise when he invited us all, including my boyfriend Craig, to a party in Notting Hill hosted by the Algerian musician and mutual friend, Omar Zidane. It was a great party. Omar played an impromptu gig with some musician friends in the front room and Craig did the cooking, creating a divine lamb tagine. Caroline was there on her own - I remember she said Robert was away on business in Scotland.

A lot of the women at the party were talking about this new technique to put women in touch with their animal spirits. I had been to the Orgatron Training Centre myself and have to admit the results were fantastic. I had given Caroline the address and told her she should try it. She went to the wrong address, which was a funny story. But you will soon all know, so I might as well tell you, that Caroline ended up with a front seat at the solstice moon ceremony at Regina Heart's main centre on the Isle of Mura in Scotland.

Robert didn't include it in the book, but it was me who made soup and nursed Caroline back to health after she nearly froze to death on a Scottish hillside in the middle of winter. I did it to show Caroline that even free spirits like me have a caring side.

Shameless Exposure is to be published on 28th October.

Orgatron

How does it happen that things suddenly become fashionable? There was a time last year when everyone in London was talking about Regina Heart's animist philosophy and her technique for increasing the power of the female orgasm. Regina used social media to spread the word, tweeting constantly about the magical powers of the Orgatron bracelet.  But word of mouth was the most effective conduit. I have already mentioned Caroline's failed attempt to visit the London Orgatron Training Centre. She had been told about it by her friend Xena. Now Caroline was telling her work friend, Antonia. They had met at a fashionable Argentinian restaurant in Trafalgar Square.

“They have a broad definition of work. Any kind of socialising with the wives or husbands of politicians is considered tax deductible,” said Caroline. “I suppose both at the same time is good value for money. Well, I’ve got a story which is every bit as good as yours. Robert’s been to see Melody Bigger, though she’s called something else.”

      “You’re joking. How did that happen?”

      “She’s making a claim against Monsaint for unfair dismissal and Robert got the case. He had to go up to Scotland to take instructions from her. He said it was pure chance he got the case but I’m worried something’s going on.”

      “Melody’s getting her claws into Robert? That’s a horrible thought.”

      “Yes, and wait till you hear this. She’s found religion. Not exactly found religion, more founded a religion. It’s really weird, based on pagan sexual rites.” Caroline leaned across the table. “It’s about releasing the cosmic power of the female orgasm.”

      “Did you say orgasm?” said Antonia. People on the surrounding tables turned their heads.

      “Yes I did. Robert says they work themselves up into a frenzy at the full moon. He only just got away unscathed.”

      “Fantastic, what’s it called?” Antonia pulled out her smart phone ready for some instant research.

      “I can’t remember what the religion’s called, but she’s called Regina Heart now and her centre is on the Isle of Mura.”

      Antonia tapped in a few letters and seconds later was waving her hand across the Castle Dunlaggin Experience website. She loaded the promo video and the tinny tones of Regina joined them at the table. Caroline tried to speak but Antonia wouldn’t let her. She watched the video all the way through.

      “Well that’s different,” said Antonia. “What’s your animal guide, Caroline? I know what mine is.”

      “I’ve no idea. Robert wanted to show me but I refused to watch the video. It’s obviously phoney. Melody’s up to something again, not to mention trying to screw millions out of Monsaint.”

      “I think you should give it a chance. As soon as I watched I knew I had an animal guide. I’ve known all along, I just haven’t been able to put my finger on it.”

      “You’re always putting your finger on it. Tell me you haven’t got a vibrator in your bag?”

      “I haven’t got a vibrator in my bag,” said Antonia, looking serious. Caroline reached across the table, snatched her shiny black bag, and emptied the contents on the tablecloth. Caroline rummaged through a pile of keys, cards, tickets, and a packet of fruit flavoured condoms. She pulled out a pair of green lace shorties with a bow at the front. She held them up.

      “Very nice. Hoping to get lucky?” said Caroline.

      “I was a girl guide. Be prepared. I never go out without a Swiss army knife, a spare pair of knickers and my travel toothbrush.”

      “I can’t see a Swiss army knife.” Caroline rummaged through the pile and picked out the folding toothbrush, and in doing so nudged a silver bullet-shaped thing which rolled across the tablecloth and landed on the floor. It continued over to the next table where four young Japanese tourists, three women and a man, all with multi-coloured hair, were practising their English. One of the women leant down and picked it up.

      “What this called in English, please?” she asked.       

      "It’s called a Magic Bullet,” said Antonia.

      “For use in restaurant?” Her female companions giggled and the young man fired an imaginary gun.

      “Depends on the company,” said Antonia.

      “Don’t confuse them,” said Caroline. She turned to the tourists. “It’s a small vibrator. A girl’s best friend.”

      “Viblator?”

      “Press the button at the top,” said Antonia. The young woman did not understand.

      Antonia stood up and gestured to the young woman to pass the machine back to her. She sat back down, turned towards their table, pressed the button, hitched up her skirt, and gave a brief demonstration.

      “Ah, girl’s best flend,” said the Japanese woman, nodding and smiling comprehension. Her companions laughed uncontrollably and attracted the attention of a fresh faced, waist-coated waiter. He rushed over to their table.

      “Is there a problem? Do you need any help?”

      The Japanese women giggled helplessly. The waiter caught Antonia red handed, or at least red faced. She tried to look cool and sophisticated. Caroline reached across the table and snatched the shiny vibrator.

      “I’m confiscating that,” said Caroline. “Honestly Antonia, you can’t be trusted in public.”

Caroline was right to be sceptical, but still ended up getting swept along with the wave of enthusiasm for Orgatron training. Of course it ended in tears, but the story had to be told.

Extract from Shameless Exposure, coming soon from SteameReads.



 

 

 

Shameless Exposure

"We'd need a new title," I said. "We can't call it The Scottish Affair because half of your problems happened in Brazil." Caroline knew I'd been working on a second volume of our memoires and had almost finished the first draft. She finally agreed it was right to warn others of the charity tax scam perpetrated by Regina Heart. She didn't mind the publicity surrounding the first book any more. She had worried people wouldn't take her seriously at work, but it turned out that most of the men and all of the women working in Monsaint thought it was great, especially the board members.

"It should be called Shameless Exposure," said Caroline. She came straight out with it. "And the bit from my holiday diary can be the first chapter."
"Hang on a minute, I'm the writer in this household."
"Well you couldn't have written about my trip to Soho because you didn't know anything about it."

Stumped by Caroline's logic, I turned back to the beginning of the diary and imagined it as the start of a book about our experiences last winter at Castle Dunlaggin on the Isle of Mura...

I suppose this is a confession, but it’s a confession of stupidity, not unfaithfulness. It was a genuine mistake. Xena told me about the Orgatron Training Centre, how everyone was going, and how fabulous her orgasms had become. I tapped the address into my phone and it came up with a location in Soho. Did Xena say Old Brompton Road? Did I mishear and type in Brompton Row, or did the phone just anticipate where I wanted to go?

     27 Brompton Row was an old shop front painted black. There was no big sign saying Orgatron Training Centre, but I expected it to be discreet. I spoke my name into a crackling chrome box and was admitted to a dim hallway with period décor; dado rails, deep skirting boards and red damask wallpaper. I was met by a maid who spoke poor English.

     “Thank goodness you come. Very particular man. Must be red hair.” I had no idea what she was talking about. I had made my appointment for a consultation at the Orgatron Centre a week previously, after Xena had been so enthusiastic about it.

     The maid, a small lady from somewhere like the Philippines, couldn’t answer any of the questions I had lined up. I wanted to know how much the course cost, how long you signed up for, whether you could rent an Orgatron before deciding to buy. She just shook her head as if I was mad and guided me into a dressing room full of theatrical costumes. She gave me an ivory coloured corset, silk stockings, and frilly bloomers. She gestured that I should take off my work clothes. I stripped and started to pull on the bloomers but the maid looked horrified and shouted “No! Must be clean for Chinese man.”

I said I wasn't sure anybody would be interested, but then I turned the page.