Friday, 22 July 2011

thud on the mat?

Contracts are weird and wonderful things. It came, so I know these things. Full of words from another century, but isn't that the way of the legal world? Lots of clauses and one, very simply written, at the end: Bloomsbury, welcoming me to their list. It was worth reading just to get to that bit! And so I can come clean. That's who are publishing Megan and Jackson (title yet to be confirmed) and my agent is the wonderful James Catchpole. I still find it hard to believe that people out there actually like my work. It's a miracle. But I'm perfectly happy to accept it and move on. And here beginneth the work. A synopsis of novel number two by December. Best get a move on. If anyone out there feels like breathing a sigh of relief on my behalf, then do. Sigh away.

Sunday, 10 July 2011

Some day my contract will come

Whilst waiting for the contract to thud onto my doormat (these things take time I've realised) I have been busy. Oh yes. Never let it be said that I wallow. Busy with young people at a school and producing a publication of their best work. Now, I'm about to crow with no apologies. I hate people who crow, however, I actually managed a fifteen page booklet complete with page numbers and illustrations. OK there's a bit of show-through which is a technical term for thin paper. I think. Anyway the final product will have more dense paper, so that it feels substantial, and a stiffish cover. Now aren't I clever? Anyone? Yoo hoo! Harrumph. Well I think I'm clever. It's taken years to get this far. So I'm patting myself on the back. Crowing into the silence that is the Internet. My blog, at any rate. Meanwhile, back at computer, still trying to decide on novel number two which has to follow a year after Megan and Jackson's story. So what to do. What to do. I have stories coming out of my ears. So that's not the problem. It's choosing the right one and if there was anyone out the with an iota of compassion (harrumph again) then you'd be showering me with pearls of wisdom. Waiting. Waiting... On Friday, troubled by this lack of focus on book two, I went to see Lanterns on the Lake and Kathryn Williams who were on as part of our local summer festival which, as ever, this is summer time after all, was rained upon and struck with lighting, and thunder rolled out of nowhere, and people scuttled about wearing umbrellas and shorts. As it was a bolt out of the blue decision to go to this concert we hadn't timetabled in food so picked up a chip supper (how Scottish does that sound!) from a fab chippy and ate them on a bench under a spreading chestnut tree (....or something...). Ended up with mushy peas and various flakes of fish all over the place ( change there, then...) and dollops of mince and gravy from an absolutely lush pie, all over me. (Not so usual. But, anyone who wants to argue that point, please feel free; then I'll know someone's reading this) You see, it's not that we're tramps as such. It's these wee plastic forks they give you. They pick up one pea at a time, and that's at a push, or one grain of mince, and they'll only spear one chip at a time. So, daintily eaten i.e small amounts going in rather than shovels full, but delicate, no. Not with all the splashes. So went to the theatre looking something like tramps. Mind you, nobody seemed to notice. Too busy with the show. I like that theatre. I'd like to sing there one day.