Monday 27 December 2010


Did a spell check by the way and yes, I know. Inspecified. How did that slip through? I'll tell you how. Easy peasily.

yule blog

Happy Christmas to all who may be reading. I can hear the echoes. Which means empty chambers and cavernous rooms with no-one inside. Ah well. I'm patience personified, I will not swallow an easterly wind but will just plod on regardless. As is the habit of a lifetime. Someone out there will say hello. Apropos that, been getting some very weird email messages via my website, thank you, weirdos, but I just delete them, and have you no life whatsoever?
Meanwhile, doing the math, doing the puzzle, getting the pieces in the right order so that I can send Megan back to the agent. Doing my head in is an understatement and Christmas cometh in the middle of all things to get in the way. Ah well. I did get a very nice piece of handmade pottery, a clarinet and some enormous knitting needles (not that I knit) amongst all the other fab pressies. So in exchange did turducken, had day-after and boxing day walks to digest the calories and slumped in front of new DVDs. Spending eleven weeks teaching at uni, some inspecified time at a school and what with the rest of life and all that sails in it, so going to be busy busy come New Year. But New Year it is and I must make myself some promises. They won't involve chocolate or wine. Apparently these things are good for me. I'll say.

Thursday 9 December 2010

Let's hear it for the French

A big thank you to Alice who's blogging away over in France while I blog away over here but has taken a bit of time to say hello. Not sure how I answer her, mind you, that is, where my answer goes etc though I have written it and it involves lots of snow, such is my understanding of the cyber world.

Having a conference with my agent this evening over Megan's refit. Heck. I don't know if that means he loves it or hates it, wants to applaud me or tick me off for being too hasty, fight me or hug me. So this is necessarily short, but hey I've written so many in the last few days you must all think I've got nothing whatsoever to do. I have. Nail biting takes a lot of time and effort.

Tuesday 7 December 2010

bag lady

Don't. Don't say a word . Hah, as if! You're a pretty silent lot.
Anyway I am sitting in my bay window, which in conditions like this is shear madness, and encrusted in layers, from base to outer and a few more in between. I am surrounded by supermarket bags-for-life which are great for heaving around project work. But winter's shadowy fingers (thanks Alan) have a way of caressing without permission and when you think you've got every conceivable place covered, somehow they get in. So stick on another layer. OK I do have my desk and chair in the coldest place in the house, bar the back toilet. Madness I know. It's the bay window in the room that is laughingly called the office. I have tidied myself into that space to lessen the impact of the rest of me, those bits which will not be denied, the towers and turrets, of important things which can't be chucked, though Colin would possibly disagree on that. He has his own towers and turrets mind you, so let's not pretend he's mister tidy or anything. The only thing different is that they're smaller and alphabetised....we still have to step lightly over and around things. CD cases are the main casualties if we don't step lightly enough.
I need a secretary. I need someone to tell me to answer letters and rearrange shelves, so that the contents can actually be seen; to sift through and file (into the bin if necessary) those things from five years ago, that school project from three months ago, the stuff from a course I went on a hundred years ago, and a thousand words from a thousand songs which lie like plates on the floor. I need someone to tell me that what I do is worthwhile. That all these other things I do to keep the wolf from my door whilst waiting for a break which may never come, are indeed worthwhile. Pah! Put on another layer and stop moaning, woman. It's the cold talking. My day will come. My break. Wag wag, thump thump. I have a dog who is loyal and faithful and loves me unconditionally, loves my work, hangs on my every word and knows that one day, one day...
OK I haven't got a dog. He's just this Labrador that I once took out walking and wished he was mine. He snuffed it some time ago, actually. But if he was, if that dog was mine, that's what he'd say, because, of course I would understand everything and we'd commune over a skinny latte in the kitchen which I believe I am envied for (it has a different colour on each wall and a red fridge and oven.) I think I'm losing it now. Another layer on. And hey, another snowflake twirling down
Don't you just love all this? Answers on a post card. In your own time. Of course. But Christmas is just around the corner. A big pressie for me would be a little hello from you.

Megan has gone

A turn up for the books this, I know, two blogs in as many days. However, for those who are vaguely interested in the trials and tribs of a would-be children's writer, Megan has been sent to my agent. Finished the redraft quickly (which may or may not be a good idea) because it was bugging me and I needed to know if it's on the right track. That is, will she-who-shall-not-be-named like this version, having been so positive about the previous incarnation even with the ghost strand? Just got to suck it and see, I suppose, but Lord, it's like jumping off a cliff and expecting a bouncy castle at the bottom. Anyway, the ghost has gone, which I'm growing to accept and the end result with some additions, some subtractions and some hinkypinky stuff... the final length is 5 thou. shorter than it was. Will this get any easier I wonder?

Sunday 5 December 2010

blue moon?

So I've checked the moon every night and on no occasion did it look blue. Icy yes. But then everything has been looking a tad icy. Just the weather to hole up and re draft though, next to an open fire heaped up to sweltering. Two more publishers now sniffing around with some suggestions. Biggies. They know what they're doing. Won't mention names for fear of jinxing. Anyway, Megan's not going to know herself once I've finished this draft and what I take out will be the bones of another novel. For sure. I hope. So I haven't been idle though this blog may suggest otherwise. Halted the research for the new book to finish Megan and hopefully can send it to agent quicky-quick and he'll love it, and so will she-who-must-not-be-named and roll, roll, roll. Have a wonderful winter season whoever you support. Gods. Football. Cricket. Just keep warm and healthy, keep peaceful, and keep your fingers crossed for Megan and hope she gets through the next very tight hoop. Croquet has nothing on this. Feel free to contact me guys and gals. It's a lonely old world.