Chapter One A Plague of Dissent

Having decided to have  a new cover designed for the book, I have  also decided, on the what I think is very good advice of a friend, to do a little edit. So here is Chapter One.

Let me know what you think.

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Rosie had been sitting there all that night in the dark, not daring to turn on a light and far too frightened to sleep. She wondered what she should or could do now; she knew that there were men outside, waiting for her to leave the house and that knowledge terrified her. The men banged on her door, shouted through her letter box and checked every accessible window.

She’d seen them arriving outside the front of the apartment a few hours before, only minutes after she arrived home. She’d parked her car in the car park just around the corner, rather than outside the house, not wanting to advertise her presence. She couldn’t be certain whether they knew she was home but she was convinced they wouldn’t leave until they’d found her.

All night, she’d in the dark, huddled up on the couch, fearful of every sound outside. Each creak of the old house filled her with panic. Had the men had somehow got inside? The events of the past week churned through her mind. How had they discovered what she’d done?

Everything had been arranged by text, no one could have over heard a thing, but evidently someone had. How had the news spread so quickly? Over the past hour her thoughts turned to escape. Sneaking out the through the rear garden, into the back lane and to her car, before it got light, was her best option. It was now nearly 6 and only an hour before dawn.

She needed to think clearly but with each her beat heart, blood coursed through her brain like a raging torrent. She couldn’t think; it was all she could do, to stop herself from being sick. But it was decision time.

She slipped on a pair of pumps and slung the small bag over her shoulder. It contained nothing more than a pair of pants, cash she’d frantically scraped out of a drawer, her passport and credit cards. Her only coherent thought to get the hell out of town before the shit hit really the fan.

She eased out of the back door. It was dark in the garden, what little light the moon would have provided was soaked up by the thick black rain clouds that hung directly over head. Tentatively she made her way down the garden path, taking care not to kick one of the numerous plant pots that lined it, towards the gate and the back lane.

She checked the lane was clear; she could see the car where she had left it the night before. None of the men were yet in sight. She thought it’s now or never. They would spot her soon enough. Then the chase would begin.

Should she walk or run?

Easing open the gate which thankfully didn’t creak, she entered the lane. The street lights at each end of the short lane would silhouette her to anybody at either end. She took her first steps as two men appeared under the street light at the far end. Too late now, they’d seen her. The shout went up

“There she is. She’s going for the car park”.

These words were quickly supplanted by the sounds of running feet. Close to a dozen men appeared around the corner, illuminated under the street light.

She had no choice. Running was her only option. 300 metres to the car park, into her car and away. It was still possible, she thought.

Rosie ran down the lane, heedless of the numerous holes brimming with water from the overnight rain. She dodged the randomly placed waste collection bins overflowing with rubbish, awaiting collection at some point during the week. Then across the road at the end. She could hear the splashes the men’s feet made in the puddles. They were getting closer. Venturing a glance over her shoulder, she could see they were gaining on her but she never saw the double-decker bus. Not until it was far too late.

When she turned her head back, the bus was on top of her, the shock on the driver’s face clearly visible as he tried to brake and steer away. She screamed. The scream was quickly followed by a sickening crunch. The number 6 bus flung her 10 metres through the air, to crumple like a rag doll into a parked car.

– – – – –

It was an unfortunate sequence of events that now found Rosie crumpled, broken and dying on this wet and forlorn morning.

The seduction that started it had been going on from the moment she first began to temp in his office. Yes, of course she knew Alex Great was married but his power and all that money he controlled as Chief Secretary to the Treasury really pressed her buttons. After all, all the politicians did it didn’t they? The more senior they were, they more they slept around and the office temps seemed to be the nature of the game. At least that was what her friend Jonathan had told her.

For the past five years, ever since her divorce, she’d had a succession of temp jobs. The first in the International’s office, where she had met and had a brief fling with Jonathan Mason, and then various Fleet Street offices’s followed. None being quite what she really wanted, they left her unfulfilled, her truth worth never recognised. The men she worked for saw only one thing, her stunning figure, which if truth be told, she’d always displayed and used it to her advantage. But, she craved more, much more; one day the right job or man, perhaps both would come along, but until then, she would make the most of her situation and her assets.

When she ran into Jonathan at a party, she’d told him quite innocently of her new job and the attentions she was getting from her new boss. She’d jumped at the offer Jonathan made.

The Chief Secretary had been pleading with her to have dinner with him for several weeks, following Jonathan’s suggestions she now capitulated. An invitation to dinner at the penthouse he kept at the Soho Hotel. He not wanting to be seen out in public with her, she assumed. That and thoughts of the eventual big pay day that Jonathan had promised removed any residual doubt she might have had.

That fateful night, Rosie knew she looked very good, she always did. Her office attire was revealing enough but the dress she wore tonight, was little more than a spray on. A sheath of red, clinging to her every ample curve, revealing more than it concealed. She’d expected that they would eat before she got her clothes off, but it hadn’t happened like that. No sooner was the door closed, than Alex began to hungrily pull off that tantalizing dress, quickly revealing her splendid body.

Later, lying back on the bed she thought, for an old fat balding guy he was quite an attentive lover. It had been far better sex than she had anticipated. He certainly talked a lot in the office and his tongue was quite good at several other things, she had just discovered.

A knock on the suite door followed by, “Room Service”, was all it had taken to get Alex to open the door and invite in the waiter with a service trolley. The waiter pushed the trolley through the doors and into the centre of the lounge of the hotel suite and then proceeded to remove one of the silver domed lids covering the plates.

As he did so, it struck against a metallic object underneath, the sound of metal upon metal caught Alex’s attention. As the lid cleared the plate, Alex was perplexed to see not a plate of food but a camera.  This, the waiter playing paparazzi quickly picked up, shooting five frames per second before he even had his eye to the viewfinder. It captured, the balding fat politician wrapped only in a towel, with his pretty blond temp in bed behind him, clearly visible through the wide open double bedroom doors.

It was over before they knew what had hit them; a precursor of the double-decker bus that would take her life 12 hours later. The paparazzi was gone within a minute; his memory card full, containing over a 100 compromising shots of them. It really was far too late to panic, but that is precisely what the politician did.

As soon as the paparazzi had picked up the camera, Alex Great raised his hands to try to cover his face, letting go of the towel around his waist as he did so, which had quickly slipped to the floor. The final shots captured him naked, red faced and screaming obscenities. He was still screaming obscenities at Rosie; accusing her of setting him up, that his career was over and his life in ruins.

It had all seemed like such a good idea at the start. The plan as suggested to her by Jonathan had been very simple. Sleep with him for a few months and get something on him, which Jonathan could use. The affair in itself would probably be enough and she would be amply rewarded. The five figure sum Jonathan mentioned would have been very useful indeed.

She hadn’t bothered to think what Jonathan was getting out of the arrangement, or why he was prepared to pay so much for it. She had worked with Jonathan as his secretary at the International and should have been aware of his unorthodox methods. But, like most dead certainties, it really wasn’t turning out the way she expected, although this was exactly what Jonathan had planned. It never crossed her mind he wanted the dirt on Alex Great now, not in a few months.

Rosie unfortunately hadn’t anticipated this result at all. Lying in bed with a hysterical and profusely sweating politician standing naked in front of her as he screamed obscenities at her was not what she had in mind. Definitely time to leave town for a while. One thing was for sure he was not going to be a minister much longer and he was no use to her anymore.

Grabbing her things, she slipped back into her dress. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would wear underwear with, so there was no need to search for them. She ran as fast as she possibly could, pulling on her shoes as she ran down the hotel corridor. She arrived home minutes before the hordes of the press arrived at her door.

– – – – –

The bus driver had not seen the men chasing Rosie, so hadn’t realized quite how the accident had happened. Nor did it occur to him to think how the press had arrived so quickly.

Rosie was splayed, motionless, over the bonnet of the parked car, her head sagging down over the front, her neck broken. She was clearly dead, having taken the full impact of the bus as it accelerated away from the bus stop.

The driver immediately phoned for an ambulance before jumping out of his cab, and checking for a pulse, he felt sure was not going to be one there. He grimaced as he did so and tried to look away. Streams of blood were running down the bonnet, over the front of the car and pooling on the street, the tips of her long blonde hair, already beginning to stain the colour of her blood, as they nestled in the widening red pool.

Her eyes were wide open and her crimson blood ran from both her mouth and nose, clearly illuminated by the cameras’ flashes.  The paparazzi had arrived.

The first two, surprising not going for their cameras immediately, but as the rest arrived with their flashes blazing, Carl turned to his associate Fred and said,

“Stupid bitch, we might as well get something for our trouble”.

They too pulled up their cameras and recorded the scene, in all its gore.

My Yarn with Nic Taylor by Writers On The Wharf

By the time I come back from seeing that Peggy Williams was tucked away safely in her car, the by’s have managed to sneak out to Destiny’s Goods, our local convenience store for two dozen beer.
However, they their darndest to hide the tell tale silver coloured box with the majestic blue mountains, when I walk in and stare them down.
“Bit early for a refreshment is it not, fellas?”
“Oh, it is never too early for a good cold brew, especially after ogling two hot mamas!” Frank carolled after popping the top off another brown bottle.
“Speaking of which, Terrance, Jack, are you going to behave yourself with my next guest? Your behaviour with Shannon and Peggy was deplorable!” I scolded.
“I make no promises, because I get all weak in the knees and starry eyed when a beautiful woman is in the room! Shannon and Peggy where lookers alright! Tell me, is this next one going to be a looker?”
I chuckled to myself, yes, the next one is a looker, but they foolishly believed that my next guest is female.
I will not tell them any different.
Call it my little revenge for embarrassing me.
“Yes, yes, my next guest is quite easy on the eyes!”
Whoops and hollers reminiscent of wolves in heat vibrated off the rafters as I set about preparing for my next visitor.
When a loud knock came at the door, the whooping stopped as I answered the door.
Premature lustful whistles erupted from my mates, but halted mid way when my friend Nic Taylor sauntered in wearing a very fashionable leather jacket, his signature baseball hat and sunglasses shielding his eyes.

While he looked rather dapper, I hoped he was going to be warm enough.
“Welcome, Nic Taylor  have a seat, sorry that it is not more comfy, but a poor fishing season has forced me to reduce my furniture to two milk crates, but I have plenty of refreshments, care to have one?”
“I like the furniture it reminds me home and I’d love a coffee.”
I give Nic a quizzical glance, wondering just what kind of curious surroundings he lives in, giving a new meaning to struggling.   I pour up a freshly brewed cup of fair trade coffee beans in a oversize mug,  mix it the way Nic likes it and hand it to him.
“Thank you for coming Nic, though I have known you for years, these yahoos are unfamiliar with you, share a little about yourself.”
“I think I can best describe myself at the moment as a struggling writer, although I have also struggled at being a researcher in renewable energy and as photographer and cameraman in the past.”
I was right about the struggling part, but I hear him, I struggle to even breathe sometimes.
Especially when the elastic in my decade old sweat pants are threatening to sever me into as I try to daintily sit on the milk crate, but end up plopping on it instead letting loose a noise no lady should emit from that particular body part.
I blush with the embarrassment and pray that Nic does not notice, and continue to chat with him.
” I have seen A Plague of Dissent on Amazon and Goodreads and I would love to pick it up, but before I do, could you tell me a little about it?”
” Well, it all starts with a bit of a bang, no not that sort, and the first body falls on page 3. The book is best described as a thriller although there is a little romance going on and a bit of sex, purely because it’s my favourite pastime”
Nic is interrupted by a normally quiet and ornery Gerard crudely stating “Is there any other kind of past time, buddy? I likes you dude, a lad after me own heart!!”

“Okay, enough horsing around, I am talking with my friend here!” I growl at Gerard, who just gives me a sexually suggestive gesture before reaching for another beer.
“I am so sorry, Nic, please continue.”
I give Nic this, he seems completely unaffected by the crude comment and the interruption and continues describing A Plague of Dissent.
 “The story takes place in the UK at the present time and bears a great deal of similarities to events that are transpiring at present although I will stress that all my characters are fictional (wink wink) Political and police corruption are rife, the media has surpassed all traces of common decency in their efforts to find their next headline and the streets are becoming a battle ground as protesters demonstrate against the government and their fiscal policies. Amongst this backdrop a small group of men are attempting to use this anarchy that is rapidly consuming, the country to further their own agendas.”
“Wow, A Plague of Dissent sounds intriguing, is there a particular part of the story that you really enjoyed writing?”
” Apart from the sex which is always a given for me the action scenes are always lots of fun to write and I really enjoy trying to capture the scene to make the reader feel they are witnessing it firsthand.”
I sit and wait for Jack to interject his usual question at this point but, I am surprised to see Jack’s wife, pipe up and ask the question. I did not even know she was there.
“Hey dude, tell us who your favourite characters are!”
“That would have to be by main characters, brothers by the name of Adam and Dan Young. They are dragged kicking and screaming into the story and really have no choice but to be reluctant heroes. Then of course there is Isobel, she makes me horny just thinking about her.”
“Oh, thank you Nic, I am very flattered that you get so aroused when you think of me!”
I see Nic look at the tall petite blond with curiosity.
“Nic, this is Isobel, my friend, Jack’s wife. Jack is the fuming bull barely being held back from beating the living blood out of you.”
I turn to Jack, who is being led out the door by Gerard and Frank, who I hear mumbling “Don’t be so serious b’y it is just a coincidence.”
“Sorry about that, but Jack just needs time to cool down, I hope you are okay.”
Nic says nothing, but just smiles his eyes filled with mischief.
 “The question  inspires me to ask you, if A Plague of Dissent were to be optioned for a movie, who do you see playing your main characters?”
” There are so many to choose from but I think I would go for Liev Schrieber and Tom Hardy and for Isobel, I adore Roselyn Sanchez “
“They will be perfect, Nic I could really see that actors  playing that part!  I was wondering, as a person who writes on the side, during my down time, my writing process starts with forming the story in my head before I put pen to paper, what is your writing process like?”
” Yeah for sure, the ideas are floating around my head long before I put pen to paper or finger to keyboard. I think I probably forget more of my ideas than I actually write down, many occur as I am dropping off to sleep and I have even used my iphone to jot down quick mores before I forget them.”
Then, Terrance staggered over to us, nearly falling into Nic’s lap, spilling some of his beer on him.
“Thanks for that it is probably time for a real drink, got to be dark soon”  Nic quips.
Without missing a beat, Terrance hands Nic a beer from his inside pocket.
“All of this sounds fascinating but I heard writing is a hell of a lot of work, why do you do it, what do you get out of it?”
“First I enjoy telling stories and one of the biggest buzzes I’ve ever had is reading a great review of my book. In fact I was recently compared to Ian Fleming and that was great and makes it all worthwhile.”
“I am impressed Nic, Ian Fleming is one of my favourite authors, that would make all the hardships worthwhile.”
 “However, thanks for the awkward segue, Terrance, now go over with the rest of the b’ys and let me and Nic have our yarn. Terrance asked you why you like to write, now I want to ask you, is there anything about writing you don’t like?”
“Easy, the publicity, I want to write stories not spend hours slaving over social media pages trying to get people to read my stories.”
“Oh my lord, Nic, I totally agree with you! I dread that part of being a writer! However,  when you write, what is it that you hope your readers take away from your story?”
” When I read a book I want it to take me away from where I am (often in an airport waiting for a bloody plane) So I like my readers to be transported into the world I am describing for them and to feel a little sad when they are done as if losing a new friend but also anticipating the next to come along.”
“Do you have any other stories you are currently writing or are planning to write?”
” Yes I have four outlines on my hard drive, two of which continue the story of some of the characters within A Plague of Dissent along with two more thrillers.”
“Thanks a million for answering all my questions…and the others, Nic it has been a real pleasure. As I said before, I have seen A Plague of Dissent online at Amazon is there anywhere else your book is available and what formats?
“Smash words I believe and it is available in all the digital formats.”
“You must be frozen solid by now, Nic my mates have been pretty greedy with the heat, so I am going to let you go so you can toddle on home and warm up, but before you go is there anything else you want to add?”
” No, just it’s been a pleasure and great meeting you all, this part of the publicity I do enjoy. Oh there maybe one thing, I am involved in community rugby and coach at a local club, we are in the process of developing the ramshackle club house that we use and turning it into a centre for the local community to use as well as rugby mad buggers. And part of the sale proceeds for A Plague of Dissent is going into a fund to help us achieve this. “
“Then we must make sure to promote your book A Plague of Dissent to the hilt to make sure that you are able to achieve your goal in developing your centre! All my best to you, Nic.”
I take Nic’s empty beer bottle, looking around outside to make sure that Jack is no where to be found to jump poor Nic and beat him, but I have a feeling that Nic is quite capable of taking care of himself, maybe he has his rugby ball with him.
Please find A Plague of Dissent on:
and

A Plague Of Dissent

Hi Guys.

I have received some excellent reviews of late and it’s about time I shared them on here and thanked those involved. Firstly the thanks. So thank you to the gorgeous Hunter S Jones, the hilarious Jim Wright, the excellent DA Meyrick, the lovely Suz form Page Bookshelf Central and the honourable Dianne  Harman and all my FB friends for their kind words of advice and publicity.

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Now the latest  5 star reviews

Jim Wright

Synopsis: A Plague of Dissent: A fast paced thriller, bursting with political intrigue and corruption. It paints a picture of the UK, where media companies hack into personnel communications at will, in search of their next headline. Of politicians lining their pockets with falsified expense claims and crooked practices operate within the police force. Where government contracts can be bought and sold by those that have the Prime Ministers ear; that to, also on sale for the right price; with banks and corporations making millions at the expense of the man in the street.

A story of greed and corruption; where riots and civil unrest are turning the country upside down and a small group of men attempting to use this anarchy that is spreading across the country to further their own agendas.

Into this nightmare scenario are dragged a young man Adam, his girl friend Isobel and his brother Dan. They are pursued by the faceless men who believe they are party to information that could comprise their mission and have two choices, to run or, to turn and fight for their lives.

I just love it when the first page of a book grabs me by the throat, gets my heart pumping and terrifies the hell out of me. That’s exactly what Nic Taylor did in A Plague of Dissent, and by page 3 we had our first dead body. Everything just went to hell in a handbasket from there.

Political corruption, mobsters and their minions, and a media hell-bent on destruction came into and out of this very strong story. It kept me constantly on my toes. One minute I thought I could trust a character and the next minute, I wasn’t quite so sure. The brothers, Dan and Adam gave me a serious case of hero-worship, despite the fact that I was afraid they were in further over their heads than they imagined. This tale could easily have been ripped from the current news.

Taylor has delivered a whopping good tale that kept me in suspense right up to the end. His masterful prose and intimate knowledge of crime fighting in the UK is on par with Ian Fleming. Every scene is so well described, throughout, that I felt like I was right there. It’s a consummate storyteller that he is!

DA Meyrick

I cannot recommend this book too highly. If you’re a fan of breathtaking thrillers, pick up Nic Taylor’s A Plague of Dissent today!

Ever wonder when you watch the news if you are being told the truth? Have you tried to read between the lines when listening to the government, big business- vested interest?

Well, wonder no more! Intrigue and the dark side, with a truly memorable ending- a thriller well worth picking!! Buy it now- you’ll love it.

Page Bookshelf Central

This is allegedly a work of fiction, but one only has to be aware of current news for this story to feel true. And that adds further thrill to an already exhilarating thriller. Nic Taylor has encapsulated the nation’s mistrust of the Government, media and big companies and written a book that is fast paced and will keep the reader on the edge of their seat.

The Rich Mosiac of Wumni

The Rich Mosiac of Wumni   Previously posted on Expats Post

In the world of dance music, Wunmi is the artist. The manifestation of her art is like a mosaic reflecting many beautiful elements and textures through her artistic expression in music, design and dance. We have been connected through the network of the fierce and fab Jane Stoosh of StooshPR. I have been fortunate enough to work with Wunmi over the last few days. She is eloquent, elegant and effortlessly joins the dots that draw us into her world.

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Born in London, Wunmi aka Ibiwunmi Omotayo Olufunke Felicity Olaiya lived in Nigeria, returning to the UK at age 14.

“Moving back to England, the same feeling of not fitting in haunted me and it was at that point my identity started shifting, like …who am I?”

She retreated into a world of her imagination, finding expression in clothes, dance and on the dance floors of London Clubs.

“With time I became Wunmigirl!” I became comfortable with me.”

The enduring image from Wunmi’s early years in music was when she danced silhouetted in Soul II Soul’s ‘Back To Life’ video. As an integral dancer within the Soul II Soul set-up, Wunmi quickly established a bold, self-styled image with flowing braids and her own unique costumes which became a vital addition to the Funki Dred identity. She evolved as an icon of London underground club culture.
“I love dancing and love DJs because they can make me travel.“

And travel she did. In the late ‘90s, she teamed up with Kenny “Dope” Gonzalez and Louie Vega for Masters At Work’s classic 1998 re-work of Fela Kuti’s ‘Expensive Sh*t’, ‘M.A.W. Expensive (Tribute To Fela)’ and the equally strong follow-ups, ‘Ekabo’ and ‘Time Is Now’.

The tracks paved the way for many Nu Yorican Afro-house workouts from the likes of Dennis Ferrer and Jerome Sydenham. It stamped Wunmi’s unique vocal style on dance floors worldwide. The collab continued at Masters At Work’s legendary Nu Yorican Soul parties in Miami. There Wunmi often performed through the Havana cigar smoke along with performers Stephanie Mills, Jocelyn Brown, Jody Watley, and Roy Ayers.

Wunmi also inter-weaves the sounds of Nigeria’s Afrobeat heritage, New York’s house pedigree and London’s jazz, broken beat and classic street soul into her mosiac. After ten years of classic collaborations working with production heavyweights like Masters At Work, Osunlade, Seiji and Truby Trio, Wunmi is now flying solo.

Wunmi’s single, ‘What A See’, brilliantly re-worked by A Guy Called Gerald, and Osunlade’s ‘Rader Du’ for Soul Jazz was followed by her acclaimed debut album, A.L.A. (Africans Living Abroad). Wunmi linked up with many of the top producers that have featured her vocals over the years as well as working with Fauna Flash, Pastaboys and Morten Varano.

Paper Magazine voted Wunmi as one of their 50 Beautiful People. Premier league producers continue to queue up – King Britt requested Wunmi for his ‘Oba Funke’ album project as did studio wizard Ras for Germany’s Sonar Kollektiv. Wunmi released a remix EP titled A.L.A Revisited in collaboration with Jellybean Soul Records and will release a new album later in 2013. (More on that later.)

When the Red Hot Organization commissioned an album paying tribute to Afrobeat Godfather Fela Kuti, Wunmi was at the top of their list. The result? A dynamite version of Fela’s ‘Zombie’ backed by Bugz In The Attic’s razor sharp beats. It became the track from the project and was accompanied by memorable live dates. The most memorable of the Red Hot and Riot live shows was at Europe’s largest multi arts venue- the Barbican in London. Wunmi shared the stage with Manu Dibago, Cheike lo, Les Nubians and Baaba Maal.

On-stage, Wunmi is a revelation. Her shows are known for explosive energy combined with her trademark outfits, hi-octane dance moves, a super-tight band. Her infectious spirit draws in crowds wherever she plays.

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Highlights? A memorable appearance at Out Of Africa’s London Summer Street Party, Jump ‘N’ Funk in New York, and the legendary Body & Soul parties in NY and Sapporo Japan. Her fans at Brooklyn’s BAM Café are notorious for stampeding the stage every time she appears.

There’s more…651 Arts presents: Live at St Ann’s Dumbo featuring Wunmi & Ameil Lareaux. A concert still talked about by those fortunate to have been witness to the performance.

Last but certainly not least…The Setai Hotel in Miami where she was invited to perform as part of their New Year’s Eve celebration party with Oscar award winner Jennifer Hudson.

Wunmi has been involved in a number of high profile charity events, starting with a headlining performance at the Millennium Promise and Malaria No More Gala at the Lincoln Center in New York. She was invited by White Ribbon Alliance, an international coalition to save the lives of pregnant women and their newborn children in 90 developing countries. She participated in their ten day musical convoy tour across South Africa. Her song ‘Talk Talk Talk’ was used as their theme music for their short documentary film.

At the end of the tour, Wunmi was enlisted to perform at their New York event for the delegates. This event lead to her performing later that year at the Mazawine Festival in Morocco along with Tony Allen, and touring Europe with Pee Wee Ellis and Fred Wesley as part of the Still Black, Still Proud – an African artist tribute to James Brown.

Alongside her music, Wunmi has become a vital link between today’s global dance music culture and the rich musical history of Nigeria. She narrated a history of Nigerian music for Strut Records’ Nigeria 70 anthology in 2001. She presented a 3 part audio documentary on Fela Kuti for BBC World Service Radio. She was called back for further programs. Living the High Life, on which she hosted live performances by some of the great High Life Musicians including her uncle, Dr. Victor Olaiya. Next came Wunmi’s Urban Groove, based on Wunmi’s travels to three continents to meet and interview local artists who were creating their own style and brand of music.

Wunmi has been profiled in numerous media including UK’s Radio One, One Extra, BBC World Service, France’s Radio Nova, and in the US; National Public Radio, WCRW, BET J and the African Channel.

Now, back to her highly anticipated 2013 release. Wunmi has teamed with co-producers, Jeremy Mage and Kwame Yeboah. Kwame is known for his collaboration with Craig David and Afro funk legend Band Osibisa. He is a multi-instrumentalist, singer, songwriter, producer and composer.

Her influences for the tracks are wide – she draws as much from Kate Bush and Sade as she does from U.S. funk and soul. Of course, Wunmi draws on the Yoruba styling of Nigerian Afrobeat, highlife and juju. Behind the trademark Wunmi grooves, she tackles difficult issues. There are tracks exploring the alienation of living away from home, the stark choices faced by those who fall outside of the system and the indifference of governments.

It is Wunmi – from the heart and her artistry. It represents some of her best work and solidifies Wunmi’s solid dance music pedigree. This is not African music, world music or any other genre. This is Wunmi’s world and there is nowhere else quite like it. Listen for music which evokes her physical and spiritual pilgrimage back to Africa and the evolving richness of her mosaic.

UK Musical Director http://www.kwameyeboah.com
US Musical Director http://jeremymage.com/

httpsv://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=oKi10HE8khs

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http://www.facebook.com/wunmiakaswunmigirl”>http://www.facebook.com/wunmiakaswunmigirl
httpv://www.youtube.com/superwunmigirl

Why I am an Experienced Ghost Writer By Karen Cole

I have worked as a professional freelance ghost writer since 1980 and before then, but mostly I have worked as a ghost writer since January of 2003, when I began working through the Internet. So I have a lot of experience, but especially as a ghost writer. This was however not what I originally intended. In the beginning, I just wanted to be a copy editor, not a regular writer. When I had written for magazines and newspapers, I had done all right, but liked editing people’s work more than I liked writing from my own original ideas. So I first set up my shingle as an editor of other people’s copy.
This however morphed shortly into my ghost writing for people. Most of my copy editing clients needed rewriting work done on their copy, so even though I preferred and only took editing jobs, I was stuck rewriting and thus ghost writing copy on a regular basis. In some cases what had appeared to be mere copy editing jobs were strict ghost writing ones, where I had to do ample background research and writing from scratch in order to fully appease my clients.
This led me to a widely varied career. I have worked on manuscripts about every subject imaginable, helping clients create both their books and screenplays and also being a “second set of eyes” when needed in order to prepare my clients’ work for review by literary agents and publishers. When I started out, my first idea was to specialize in copy editing people’s work for publication. But like I said, in many cases the work entailed so much rewriting, I wasn’t just an editor for it any more.
So I became a ghost writer, after having done ghost writing since before 1980 anyway. It’s not hard work for me, as I am highly proficient at writing and editing in English. I have scored as a creative writing genius on more than one test, and was passed through an English class in creative writing in college. They said I didn’t have to take the initial class and only had to pay for the credits. So I am an experienced ghost writer of nearly three decades standing, and I love both editing and writing copy for people. It’s a living, and also I can set my own hours, be my own boss, and don’t have to come up with my own ideas – in most cases, anyway.
AUTHOR’S RESOURCE BOX: I am Karen Cole, President of Ghost Writer, Inc. We have worked on the WWW since 2003 helping our author clients with ghost writing, editing, marketing and promoting their books and screenplays. I have worked on some 250+ books and other works myself, and I send work out on a regular basis to our team of over 100 writers and other artists in the writing field.
LINKS:
Website: http://www.rainbowriting.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ghostwriterwriting
Twitter: http://twitter.com/karencole37
LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karencole37ghostwriter62929-Royalty-Free-RF-Clipart-Illustration-Of-A-Hand-Writing-With-A-Feather-Quill-Near-A-Bottle-Of-Ink