British Authors Online

Publisher Information: http://www.ebooks.uk.net
Associations and Awards: British Author's Online. Winner of the Scorched Wings poetry competition in July 2003, judged by JMR Gray.

Biography

Louise was born in Farnbourgh, Kent in England and raised in Devon. She began writing at the age of eight and was first published in a local poetry competition aged ten with a poem called 'Things that go bump in the night.' She became interested in music in Primary School and took up playing the recorder, saxophone and piano. In secondary school her poetry against bullying was distributed to every class in the school as part of an anti bullying campaign. She became a school counsellor and was asked to read her poem 'Calm After the Storm' on regional television.

During the five years of secondary school she took her grade one and three classical saxophone and grade five in jazz saxophone and passed all of them first time. She also completed her grade two piano exam with honours. Her love of music saw her take part in school productions as part of the orchestra, the Devon Youth Orchestra and Gang Show - a 4 night show a year for the scout's and guides. There she sang solo several years in a row, despite being in plaster during some of them.

She passed all of her GCSE's with grades of A to C and continued on to college. There she became an active part of the college society, writing columns and poetry for the college magazine and attending and participating in the college gigs. She joined the college Jazz and Blues band as well as a smaller 'Big Band,' that performed in various places in the Devon area including the Queens Theatre. She passed A Levels in English Language and Literature, Biology and General studies. Louise also took an Access to teaching course and additional language classes.

Her original aim was to become a teacher for children with special needs. When she completed her A Levels she returned to college to follow this aim with a GNVQ in Health and Social Care. Louise worked in 3 Primary schools as a Class assistant during her time doing the course as well as helping out at a local Brownie group. She had to discontinue her education when she became pregnant in 1999.

During her pregnancy she took an NVQ in Owner Business management and a short course in Preparation for Business. After the birth she decided to stay at home and bring up her son, Armand. Too energetic to settle into a life of routine Louise began editing the work of other authors and Storytelling for her friends. She joined with John Aridi to create the Writers Corner and has collaborative projects in the pipelines with him and fantasy author Dan Smalt. She currently has six books published, they can be bought at http://www.ebooks.uk.net

Louise began the Modern Author Review with another author (John Aridi) and they are in their second year of reviewing books in almost all genres and formats. ( http://www.modernauthor.co.uk ) The staff at the Modern Author Review are all voluntary and do not work for any particular publisher. They are always looking for new reviewers and interviewers, the details are on the site if you are interested. (They are particularly looking for a romance reviewer at the moment.)

She is also the founder and co-editor of the Scorched Wings, a paperback literary magazine that is published quarterly and sold online.

Louise's Websites

Quando Angelus Vagit by Louise Karczmarz.

Older than any one man’s memory, he walked the Chicago streets alone, searching. Having watched the growth of humanity for an age, the transfer from teacher to active agent was a shock to the system. Information and emotion flooded his senses from all over the world; the vibrant colours and fast track life in comparison to his home left him bewildered. He sat down on the sidewalk next to the telephone booth dizzily; he placed his hands over his eyes and began to think about the task. Buildings towered above him on both sides, already the roads were busy with cars and buses, and the city streets were a barrage of noise and tightly packed people. Claustrophobia of the soul began to set in, he marvelled at how any soul no matter how strong could endure the restrains of this lifestyle – ‘or did they just not see it?’

Blue felt Coat tails brushing against the pavement, long dark hair, loose from any constraint spilled over his neck resting at the centre of his back. A white shirt, and stylish informal black slacks covered his lithe muscular form ‘What do you want from me in this place?’ he thought. ‘I cannot see the woods for the tree’s here,’ Businessmen and women, shoppers and families hurried through the streets, not one stopped to see if the man was all right, in fact, no one noticed him at all.

Sat in front of the mirror on the dresser in her bedroom, Susie tried to decide, ‘blue, green or brown?’ A crucial decision that could make or break her night. Scattered over the chest were little boxes, packets and tubes of make up. Much of it she had owned since she was thirteen, she didn’t usually wear make up, but tonight was special. She had twenty minutes to get ready before the party at one of the university students parent’s homes. They had gone away for a weekend trip to Spain and left him in charge of looking after the house for them. ‘We’re they insane?’ Susie thought, ‘They’ll be lucky if they even recognise the place when they get back.’ The students throwing the party were renowned for them, and very popular on campus. Susie wouldn’t usually go to this kind of an event, but he friend Chelle had made her promise to attend as moral support. There was one particular third year student that Chelle had taken a shine to by the name of Ben. Ben was an outsider to almost everything you care to mention, he inhabited his own little bubble. Academically excellent he didn’t fall into the stereotypical nerdish behaviour, athletically competent he was on both the soccer and track teams and was known to give the social side of it a cold shoulder. Not part of any of the ‘in’ crowds, Ben still seemed to be invited to things reserved for the social elite of the Uni. He was naturally gifted with good looks, his short spiked brown hair was neither styled nor unkempt, his eyes were a stunning green and his skin was the olive of southern Europe, where exactly no one knew, - no one asked. In all honestly, Susie found a quality in him she found attractive, not specifically physical, the lack of arrogance with his intelligence, or snobbery with his appearance and talents fascinated her. She flushed a warm pink to her caramel skin, ‘He’s not the reason I am going…well not the only one’ she thought. Everyone who was anyone would be there, and she wanted to make the right impression. She had coursework to do, but that could wait, tonight she felt reckless. She was single for the first time in years, and intended to make the most of it.

Row upon row of crosses and tablets stretched for as far as he could see, they all looked the same, but he picked his way through instinctively, the path familiar to him even in the dark. Every weekend Sanders came down to his mother’s graveside to lay down flowers – always lavender, her favourites - and talk to her about what he had been doing over the last week. He was in no way a deeply religious man, nor was he superstitious enough to think that she might be there. ‘When you died, you died, that was it’, he thought. It had been six months since she had collapsed at home with a heart attack; his colleagues at work had suggested he take some time off. ‘She wouldn’t have wanted that’ Sanders decided.

They were both practical people, that wasn’t to say that Sander’s didn’t care, the opposite was very much true. If his mother had any religious beliefs she kept them close to her chest. She had in his youth sent him to Sunday school along with the other local children, but looking back Sanders guessed that it was all for the appearance. He understood the importance of a good reputation. A man lived or died in their career and their social interaction by their reputation. If he ever had children he would certainly be taking them through all the steps his mother took to make them socially acceptable. Deep down he had a very strong respect for his mother, if he loved her, that was another question entirely, and not one that Sander’s with his practical, logical, unemotional coping mechanism was ready to answer any time soon. So on the grass by the graveside at midnight he sat, there was something about the anonymity of the place that made him feel comfortable to express all the things he would not, or could not tell his colleagues or a shrink.