A chick, in my book, is a baby chicken covered in downy, yellow feathers up until the age of 6-weeks. I've always bristled when the term is applied to young women, and I have always subconsciously disassociated myself from Chick lit, believing the genre to be driven by scantily clad, sex-driven female main characters. I couldn't have been more wrong and, although I'm not a fan of categories, it's time to reassess the genre I think I've been writing in.
Edna is a member of both DAWG, the Didsbrook Authors and Writers Group and DADS, the Didsbrook Amateur Dramatic Society. She is blessed with an unwavering self-belief that she is about to join the ranks of world-renown authors, convinced she is Didsbrook’s answer to J. K. Rowling, hence her rather suspect non-de-plume, E. D. Fowling. Edna is one of my favourite characters from The Doyenne of Didsbrook because every inch of her reminds me of one of Roy Clarke's wonderful characters, Hyacinth Bucket.
The Secret Lives of The Doyenne of Didsbrook is a murder mystery spoof. The sleepy market town of Didsbrook is thrown into turmoil after the town’s most flamboyant resident, the much-loved actress turned best-selling novelist, Jocelyn Robertshaw, is found dead.
'Bravo, young lady! Joan Fothergill! You didn't tell me your daughter sings like a nightingale and can act the socks off the entire DADS membership. Goodness, how time flies, young lady, the last time I talked to you was by the trout lake, and you were wearing a pair of pink knickers.' My cheeks turned crimson, and I heard my mother mumble the words, lake, knickers?