Dawn Nelson
Bio
Dawn is a writer, journalist and award winning author from Scotland. She lives near Loch Lomond with her kids and numerous pets and is currently working on a couple of new book series.
Stories (18/0)
Ten Women Writers of the Renaissance and Restoration
While male writers have been lauded for centuries (who hasn’t heard of William Shakespeare?), women writers have been largely ignored or maligned due to the inferior position women held in male dominated society.
By Dawn Nelson9 months ago in History
Iron-Fanged Fiend Leads to Change in Publication Laws
September 23, 1954 and it had been a wet and dismal start to autumn for the children of Gorbals, Glasgow. The leaves were falling from the trees and the nights were getting longer. All they had to look forward to was Halloween which was still a month away.
By Dawn Nelson10 months ago in Horror
Ten Essential Things to Know About Scotland
1 Our flags The Scottish national flag is a white cross on a blue background and is known as the Saltire or the St Andrew’s Cross. Created in the ninth century, it is the oldest national flag still in use but isn’t the only ‘flag’ displayed in Scotland.
By Dawn Nelson2 years ago in Education
- Top Story - October 2021
Here lies poor FredTop Story - October 2021
Here lies poor FRED, who was alive and is dead Had it been his Father I had much rather, Had it been his Sister nobody would have miss’d Her, Had it been his Brother, still better than another, Had it been the whole Generation, so much better for the Nation, But since it is FRED who was alive and is dead, There is no more to be said!
By Dawn Nelson3 years ago in FYI
What do you do for Halloween?
The nights are drawing in, the weather is getting colder and the leaves are falling from the trees. As we reluctantly switch on our heating, we look forward to the end of October, to Halloween and the start of a programme of winter festivities.
By Dawn Nelson3 years ago in FYI
Two Minutes to Midnight
They were gathered in her living room eyes glued to the television waiting for the countdown that would launch them into the new year. Some sat squashed on the sofas, others perched on chair arms, a few stood, but all were looking at the gogglebox in the corner. They had come in their best party gear. Masked in make-up and hair spray, the women wore sparkling, crackling cocktail dresses and heels high enough to break an ankle. The men, novelty ties aside, had on a simple uniform of pressed suit trousers and shirts. In each of their right hands resided a glass of bubbly, held carefully, untouched, so that when the time came they would be ready. The room was heady with anticipation. Then murmurs began. How long until the Bells now? Three minutes? Is that all? Why isn’t the host saying something? Ah cannae go that accordion music. Jesus, Jackie Bird looks like she needs a good feed. No-one noticed as she slipped into the room and stood smiling at the back. The living room was still festooned with festive delights. The bauble laden Christmas tree slumped exhausted in one corner, twinkly lights were strung across the windows and a cacophony of cards took up most of the sideboard. Their brightly coloured faces wishing good cheer to all those who happened to glance their way. It was perfect, just perfect.
By Dawn Nelson3 years ago in Fiction
The Unsinkable Mary Patten
One hundred and seventy-five years ago a pregnant teenager took command of her husband’s ship and made history. Nineteen-year-old Mary Patten did it all for 56 days whilst fighting off a mutiny, nursing her seriously ill husband and battling stormy seas.
By Dawn Nelson3 years ago in FYI
What Are We Having for Dinner?
Nick stared at the screen and willed the words to write themselves. It had been an hour now, sixty long dreary minutes of stupefied staring at a screen where no text would appear. He had tried just typing, anything to get started, but the story was firmly stuck – no, hiding – somewhere in that weary brain of his and was vehemently refusing to come out. He sighed. Shit. He had a deadline to meet and it was looming big and monstrously over the horizon. He chewed a pen. Write what you know. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? But what did he know about the Old West? He lived in a three bedroomed house in the suburbs of Glasgow. Okay, so his last three books (also about the Old West) had been written after meticulous research and had been successes, so there was no reason why he shouldn’t, couldn’t write another. In fact, this one should be just flowing from his fingertips.
By Dawn Nelson3 years ago in Fiction
Esther Abercrombie and the Legend of Loch Ness
Glasgow's Central Station was busy. Humans and creatures hurried from train to platform to exit in a constant flow of bodies. The place was awash with the hissing and chugging of the green liveried steam engines as they entered and departed Glasgow’s finest departure point. There was a heavy stench of burning coal mixed with the sweet scent of water vapour and the air was alive with the sounds of city life: footsteps too numerous to count, whistles being blown, guards shouting, people chatting and the colourful stall holders yelling their wares. As a country girl, I revelled in this new found excitement and couldn’t help but stare at the office girls as they walked by in their pretty patterned dresses and beautifully decorated straw hats.
By Dawn Nelson3 years ago in Fiction