About the Author

Amelia Carr grew up in Somerset, where she lives today. She has written numerous short stories for magazines, as well as a number of novels under another name. She has a private pilot's licence, which proved extremely useful when she was writing DANCES WITH WINGS.

An Article Written by Amelia Carr

Little did I think when my husband Terry gave me a flying lesson as a fiftieth birthday present that not only would I go on to gain my private pilot’s licence, but I would also be inspired to write DANCE WITH WINGS.
I’d been in love with aeroplanes ever since, as a teenager, I’d gone on what was known in those days as a pleasure flight, but until the day when my surprise gift turned out to be a visit to Bristol & Wessex Flying Club, I’d never thought I would ever actually fly a plane.
There’s no feeling on earth (literally!) like taking off in a little 4-seater PA28 – well, it seats four if the two in the back are child-sized, or don’t mind getting very cosy! Mostly, though, it was just my instructor and me, learning how to take off and land, fly straight and level (harder than it sounds!) and do steep turns with one wing pointing directly at the ground. There’s stalling practice, too, which is a bizarre exercise that goes against all one’s natural instincts, but is very necessary. And then it was me on my own. The first solo flight is the most amazing of all, knowing that once you take off it’s absolutely up to you to fly a circuit and get down again safely.
The wheels lift and you’re floating almost, climbing gently – no steep ascent as you get in a jumbo jet – and then you’re out over Brockley Combe, where the turbulence rocks you a little so that you rise and fall as if you were in a rowing boat. Cheddar Lake is sparkling on one side; the Severn spreads a grey ribbon on the other. It’s freedom and peace and excitement and intense concentration all rolled into one. I loved it!

I had a few hairy moments, of course. Doesn’t everyone? And navigation practice was definitely not my finest hour.
‘When you’ve got your licence we’ll buy you a pair of strong binoculars so you can go down and read the signposts on the motorway,’ my instructor joked.
Personally I thought it was a brilliant idea!
And it was this real-life experience that I was able to draw on when writing DANCE WITH WINGS. I know exactly how it feels to be lost – or to think you are – when there’s nothing but a vast expanse of open countryside beneath you, with no identifiable landmarks at all. You’ve worked out a flight plan, you’ve religiously stuck to your headings, but you don’t know if the wind has changed, blowing you off course. And sometimes, if you have been flying really accurately, the landmark you’re looking for to check your course can be hidden by the nose of the plane. Scary stuff, for me at any rate, but it was experience I was able to put to good use when writing about Nancy’s exploits.
I also used real-life occurrences in writing my fiction. One such happened to my husband (we learned to fly at the same time, and got our licences within a week of one another). He hadn’t long taken off with his instructor when they smelled something hot; the instructor investigated and burned his hand. Naturally, he called an emergency and turned back to the airfield, where the fire engines turned out and followed them down the runway as they landed.
On another occasion, after we had gained our licences, my husband and I flew off for a jolly, but the weather turned nasty. Coming back from Gloucester to Bristol the turbulence was so bad that Terry hit his head on the roof of the plane, bringing down a shower of dust which settled all over me in a white cloud! We were very glad to get safely back to land that day. But again, more grist to the mill when it comes to writing about a girl whose life was flying.
When I’m not flying – which I must admit is quite often these days, since it is so expensive – I love amateur drama, performing in plays, pantomimes and music halls locally. And I am learning to tap dance – a childhood ambition. When I finally got my tap shoes, I felt as if I were six years old again. Magic! Besides all this, I love spending time with my four grandchildren, the youngest of whom is the real Amelia Carr. She is only three years old, but her parents allowed me to borrow her name.
I love writing – it’s my life. And I love the thought that my books may help my readers escape for a little while from all the problems of everyday existence. I’d say ‘Come fly with me’, but that’s just too corny. And given my tendency for getting lost, I doubt anyone in their right mind would want to. Much safer to curl up at home with a good book…

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