Ella J. Fraser
While her day job had been in corporate marketing and communications, making the most of an MBA she'd earned years earlier, it often required a knack for creativity and the sort of willing suspension of disbelief worthy of an MFA. Nevertheless, it failed to provide the level of satisfaction accrued from more legitimate pursuits like painting and writing.
After receiving New York photographer Christopher Beane's book Flower as a gift, she was so moved she sat down to write him an email complimenting him on his talent. What she ended up writing was the manuscript for Waking Up In London, her first novel.
“She opened her eyes once again and let them drift across the scene laid out before her like a page from a storybook. Inky blackness hung above them as though painted in impasto in an opaque Prussian Blue. The impression it gave was of a sky hand-crafted out of felt with a pearl of a moon and a generous dusting of diamonds sprinkled on for the stars. A night dreams were made of.”
Ella J. Fraser
“I couldn’t very well make a special delivery to the door of the constabulary now could I? And he’d have made the perfect scapegoat. That aura of misery he wraps himself in. So Byronesque. He’s too immersed in his own guilt to ever suspect it in another.”
Ella J. Fraser