Finito

I've finally finished the first draft of novel 2 and have emailed it to Lovely Agent.

Now the nail-biting, email-watching waiting begins again. If she doesn't like it I'll bloody shoot myself. Not really, but let's say I'm more realistic about the whole process this time round, and not quite as giddy with excitement as this time last year.

I'm going to miss my characters, though I'll no doubt be revisiting them in the edits. I've almost started to believe they were real.

I didn't realise there was an underlying theme to my story until I'd finished, which means I'm either a terrible writer or a wee bit simple, but nearly all my characters have dysfunctional parents which has affected their adult relationships.

It's nice to know there is a theme, and that it's not just a Very Silly Story - though it is that too of course.

Anyway, hello real world - I've missed you.

A bit.

This 'Ol House

I've noticed recently that in all my novel attempts so far there's been a recurring theme. Actually it's not a theme, it's a thing.

Houses. BIG houses. Stately homes, mansions, manor houses, country piles, the bigger the better.

It's quite bizarre for someone who was raised in a three bedroomed semi with one bathroom. Mind you we often traipsed round stately homes at the weekends, and I still quite like visiting them now.

Delusions of grandeur maybe? Not really. I'd actually hate to live in a house with a wing - or more than four bedooms. Apart from the cleaning I'd soon be convinced there were ghosts loitering round every corner waiting to bash my head in, or that a dangerous prisoner had escaped from a nearby lunatic asylum and moved into the attic, waiting to bash my head in. Or that the house was evil and about to start sprouting flies from the toilet bowl. In fact no film plot would be left unturned.

I suppose that's what it is really. Big houses make for good plots, though I might buck the trend in my next novel and have all my characters squished into a one-bedroomed flat in Barnet.

Do you have recurring Things cropping up in your writing?

Pluses and minuses

Minus - We're snowed in again, just as we were this time last year. It's knee-deep out there, and STILL Molly expects to be walked twice a day.

Plus - Our kitchen is ... drumroll ... finally finished. Only four months late. I hardly know what to do with all that space. Which is why I'm typing this instead of moving everything back in there.

Minus - We intended having a massive celebratory roast today (if I can remember how to cook)but only managed to buy a chicken before vehicles were abandoned to the snow yesterday - so that will be our dinner. Ah well, who needs veggies?

Plus - Am churning out a good amount for words for Novel 2 most days.

Minus - I'm still not going to meet my end-of-December deadline. Succumbed to a cold/cough/flu type virus a couple of weeks ago and, coupled with a last ditch attempt to find an available kitchen-fitter who wouldn't run screaming when he saw what a mess the last guy had left behind, I got sidetracked.

Plus - Finally had a story accepted by People's Friend. It became a personal challenge this year (I need to get out more) as they're quite fussy.

Minus - They can hang on to stories for years, so it may appear posthumously.

Plus - Finally wrestled the Christmas tree up, quite a bit later than usual.

Minus - Still haven't finished shopping. Or started, in some cases. What do you buy a 19-year old male who wants a million pounds and a Porsche?

Plus - I still have a lovely agent - it's been just over a year now - fighting my corner in the publishing world and trying to sell my novel.

Minus - It's been a huge learning curve. I now know that having an agent doesn't guarantee my novel will find a publisher.

Plus - There IS the German deal though. Better than nowt as my mum would say. And has said, several times.

And on that note ... have a wonderful Christmas if I don't see you before, and thank you for reading and commenting and being so supportive this year.

You're all marvellous.

Libraryitis

We're all a bit jittery at work. Meetings abound and it's not good news.

Smaller branches of the library will probably close next year, and even if they do stay open - run by volunteers as proposed - the existing staff will be out of work, at a time when unemployment is already high and rising.

We've tried many strategies to tempt in new users (is that the right word? Sounds a bit addict-y) but the truth is libraries aren't *cool*. Add to that terrible faux-pas the fact that books are cheap and everyone has knowledge at their fingertips in the form of the Internet and you may well ask, "What's the point of libraries?"

In fact somebody did - huddled at the back of the village hall in his puffa jacket. Words like 'community' and 'public service' were bandied about in response, but he didn't look convinced.

In the interests of answering this question I asked around friends and family and discovered that out of everyone, only my Mum uses her local library up in Scarborough. One friend worries about 'germs' so would no more borrow a book than run her hands round the rim of a public loo.

Another belongs to a book-swapping scheme, so doesn't need the library for reading purposes, and pays a small monthly fee to Love Film, which means she gets sent DVDs through the post that she can return at her leisure - "without paying a fine," she added pointedly.

My own children (sob) claim libraries are "a bit smelly and for old people" although I do bring home books and films for them every week whether they like it or not, which they do read and watch. But they no longer venture inside of their own free will.

In fact a lot of people I spoke to said they have fond memories of libraries; that they used to go a lot when they were younger, but don't any more - they just never think about it.

Somebody said they're not "relevant" in the modern world.

One or two said they're good for using the computer and printing stuff out, but they don't bother looking at the books.

Doesn't bode well does it?

What am I going to do with all my cardigans when I no longer work in a library??

Splashy Web-Thing

I'm happy to do my bit today in helping fellow blogger and writer Talli Roland's debut novel THE HATING GAME hit the Kindle bestseller list at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com

If you don't have a Kindle you can download a free app at Amazon for Mac, iPhone, PC, Android and more.

About THE HATING GAME:

When man-eater Mattie Johns agrees to star on a dating game show to save her ailing recruitment business, she's confident she'll sail through to the end without letting down the perma-guard she's perfected from years of her love 'em and leave 'em dating strategy. After all, what can go wrong with dating a few losers and hanging out long enough to pick up a juicy £2000,000 prize? Plenty, Mattie discovers, when it's revealed that the contestants are four of her very unhappy exes. Can Mattie confront her past to get the prize money she so desperately needs, or will her exes finally wreak their long-awaited revenge? And what about the ambitious TV producer whose career depends on stopping her from making it to the end?

It's coming soon in paperback and you can keep up with the latest at
http://www.talliroland.com/


I'm looking forward to reading my copy, and if I'm ever lucky enough to be published (*cough* in the UK *cough*) no doubt I'll be splashing about on the web too.

Good luck Talli.

Statistically speaking

I've just discovered Blogger Stats on the design page, and had to stop writing (no really I DID) to have a good rummage around.

Quite illuminating - if you've nothing better to do. It tells you which of your posts has been looked at the most during a day, week, month or of all time and rather surprisingly my most popular post isn't about writing or anything remotely profound - not that I've written anything remotely profound.

It's this one called Turkey Fatigue, which has been viewed 3628 times to date, and is being viewed by 48 people at this very minute.

The magical Blogger Stats informs me that all these visits have been referred by people searching for turkey cartoons. But why? To my knowledge turkey is only ever relevant at Christmas and Thanksgiving - not on the 3rd of June. It makes no sense.

Second most popular post - understandably - is Cally Taylor and her Writing Highlights with 682 page views. Quite a lot less than the turkey I think you'll agree. I have absolutely no idea what this means.

In third place, with a paltry 86 views is Celebrity Morph, in which I turn myself into a male actor by means of some internet jiggery-pokery. I'm not doing a link, because thankfully it doesn't work any more, plus it shows I was clearly bonkers at the time and I'm much better now thanks.

All rather disturbing and proof that, as my dear old gran used to say, there's nowt so queer as folk.

NaNO

This month I decided I'd 'secretly' take part in NaNoWriMo as a way of motivating myself to get the first draft of novel 2 finished. Boy am I glad I didn't make a song and dance about it on the blog, as I've done naff all. Well, a few thousand words, but not the 20,000 or so that would be required by now.

It's weird, because external deadlines I'm brilliant with - I'll stay up all night writing if I have to and get the work finished on time, but when I set my own it hardly ever works. This is when RT (Resistant Teenager) takes over.

The second I woke up on November 1st she said, in sulky tones, "Sorry but I can't, like, do much writing today, like, 'cos I've got, like, other stuff to do and that. Innit."

One of them involved forcing me to bake a cake in the microwave (no, the kitchen still isn't finished). It wasn't a success. Ever tried eating a rubber chicken? My maths isn't good but I know I could have written a lot of words in that time - especially as I forgot to put an egg in the first batch and had to start again.

The next day she insisted I spend an inordinate amount of time turning up a pair of trousers for work, only to discover that one leg was shorter than the other when I'd finished. (Trouser leg that is.) Naturally she made me unpick the hem and start again. I wouldn't care, but they only cost a fiver from Tesco's in the first place - I could have just chucked them away. More writing time down the drain.

Over the past fortnight or so she's had me scouring charity shops for a particular kind of clock, teaching myself how to light the fire properly in our front room, filling in a couple of holes in the wall in the porch, staring at the leaves in the garden with a view to raking them up, and experimenting with my hair-style. When I could have been writing!

Right now she's forcing me to write this when I had every intention of opening up the work-in-progress and adding to the meagre word count, and in a minute I know she's going to insist I put the kettle on again and scour the internet for hot men I can picture as the hero in my novel polish the door knobs.

Ye Gods. I'll be glad when November's over and I can get back to writing normally.

Ooh I Say!

I’ve a short story in this week’s Woman’s Weekly called Private Dancer which is, ahem, a little … saucier than my usual fare. I’m not talking full on raunch, because as I’ve mentioned on here before I’m absolutely no good at s-e-x scenes – plus I wouldn’t want the readers to choking on their coffee and going all unnecessary.

I’d challenged myself to rustle up a story that was, shall we say, hot-blooded but subtle, as I’d never tried it before, and I must have done something right as the editor said she liked it - a lot.

It was fun actually, and it felt good to write something outside my comfort zone. I won’t be taking it any further than that though – my blood pressure couldn’t cope.

My daughter steeled herself to read it, saying she hoped it wasn’t ‘pornographic’. I reassured her that I'd never had an impure thought in my life, but even so she could barely look me in the eye afterwards. “It’s good Mum, but it’s weird that you wrote it,” she said sidling past, and went to wash her hands.

I considered taking offence, then imagined how I would have felt if MY mum had written it.*

Eewwwww!!

*Don’t get your hopes up if you’re tempted to read it. I’m not talking Jackie Collins here, and this IS Woman’s Weekly remember.

Fact or Fiction?

A friend of a friend happened to mention that she doesn't read books. Not fiction ones anyway. She said that she'd "rather be living life than reading about made-up ones," and anyway "it makes you dissatisfied with everything, especially all that romance stuff." Which rather begged the question, "How do you know if you don't read books?"

I kept schtum because I don't know her that well and didn't want to upset my friend by suggesting her friend is clearly a bit poorly in the coconut.

Okay that's a bit harsh, but I was miffed by the implication that because I've read a love story or forty(thousand) in the past, I'm as bitter as an olive that men in real life tend not to be brooding, chiselled, tousle-haired heros in tight-fitting trousers, waiting to sweep me off my feet and ravish me. Well, not the ones I've met anyway. (All right, so I'm a tiny bit bitter.)

Neither am I limp with disappointment that I don't have a wardrobe full of vintage clothes and can't ride a horse - or run my own PR company, or whatever else friend of friend imagines lies between the pages of the books I read. And they're mostly not romance anyway. (Not that there's anything wrong with romance novels, obviously.)

I think she's missing out. Reading isn't a substitute for real life, it enhances it. Yes it's an indulgence and it's escapism, but so's getting pissed and she does that A LOT (apparently) and it's much worse for your liver.

Fiction increases your knowledge too - I've learnt loads over the years about culture, history, disability, science and, of course, human nature. It's given me a lot of comfort at times - and definitely stopped me from getting under my mum's feet when I was a child. (We didn't have a telly and I never did like Monopoly.)

Oh, and it's taught me how to commit the perfect murder without getting caught. Not that I ever would, you understand.

Unless our kitchen isn't finished by Christmas ...

Keeping up Appearances

In the interests of motivation, I treated myself to a fancy new notebook this week, to jot down notes for my latest - ahem - masterpiece. (Look, if I don't believe in it no one else will.)

Now that I've taken to hunching over tea in our local Costa's every week, slurping from a giant cup and staring into the middle distance, tapping my pen against my chin, I decided I needed something more swanky than the 99p recycled reporter's notebook I was using before. Plus the reporter wanted it back. Ho ho!

Trouble is the new one is far too posh to write in, and I don't want to spill tea on it, so I have to slip an old, tatty one inside for the actual writing.

It's all about appearances dahling. But the words are flowing, which is the main thing. Whether or not they make sense is a different matter.

In case you're wondering, the story of our kitchen still hasn't got its happy ending. In fact it's becoming a misery memoir.

Business as usual

Now, I can't keep saying "no news on the UK-book-deal-front" every time I post.

Well I could, but it would get a bit boring - not to mention embarrassing - so lets just say it's a No until you hear otherwise. And you will hear because I'll be shouting so loudly.

Instead I'll mention that I've just been to Ghent in Belgium with Lovely Husband for a weekend break, which was nice. Sunshine, music, canals and fireworks (and that wasn't a euphemism, I literally mean fireworks) and lots of yummy (fattening) food.

Very relaxing it was and plenty of writing inspiration too, from the woman crying into her mobile phone on the train on the way over, to the pretty American girl who couldn't understand why the elderly couple she was sitting opposite to on the way back were so rude to her, to the group of guys who talked about nothing but beer the whole journey. I guess you had to be there ...

I'm not an experienced traveller as anyone who's stuck with my ramblings over the last couple of years will know (don't like flying or being on water, would prefer to travel via time machine etc) but I couldn't help noticing how much more civilised the attitude to drinking is in Europe.

Considering there were around 7000 people gathered round a canal on Saturday evening - on it, in boats, in some cases - and the festival was around an hour late kicking off, the atmosphere was remarkably relaxed and friendly ...

... and so was I until I came back and realised just how much work still needs doing on the kitchen, but that's a whole different tale. Although I used the chaotic kitchen saga as inspiration for a story for my writing group last week so I suppose something postive has come out of it.

Grrrrr.

How Time Flies

Illustration by Kathy Hare

Is it really September? Tut. I turn my back for five minutes and another month flies by. I must be having masses of fun.

Still no UK book deal. Still no new kitchen either. It's getting there slowly, and am sure will be sparkly and lovely when it's finished. In the meantime I'm getting rather used to cooking spuds in a pan of bubbling water on a camping gas-ring in the living room, with the dog looking on in a rather confused fashion.

I've not given up on the UK book deal dream. I've just shelved it temporarily, otherwise I'd never get anything else done. I suppose my natural state is 'unpublished novelist' so it's relatively easy to slip back into that shiny, well-worn groove. The new novel is growing slowly and I've sold some more short stories, so it's all good.

I drove my Mum back up to Scarborough yesterday and discovered for the first time how brilliant talking books are for long journeys. Not on the way there obviously - I've got a talking Mum for that - but coming back the miles whizzed by without me noticing. In fact I was looking forward to getting stuck in traffic for once, but there wasn't any.

Obviously I was still aware I was driving, but part of my brain was so absorbed by Julie Myerson's The Lost Child that I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd ended up up in Wales.

I swore I'd never read that book after all the controversy about it when it came out, despite having read and enjoyed all her novels, but it was so painfully good that I'm glad I did in the end.

And anyway it wasn't reading it was listening, so it doesn't count.

Right September - bring it on.

Distracted

Well the news is ... no more news. Well nothing good anyway. Lovely Agent is away for a fortnight now and explained before she went that a lot of editors are on holiday during August.

My novel is still out with publishers, but I've been warned it could all take a lot longer than expected due to the current 'difficult climate.' Uh-oh. There have already been some passes, the reasons mostly being of the 'budgets/timing/we-loved-it-but-have-no-available-slots' variety. Oh dear.

All rather disheartening. Lovely Agent did say it took the agency 18 months and 30 rejections to get one of their authors published, and she's doing very nicely indeed now and that I mustn't give up hope, but still ...

All this waiting and hoping and dreaming has rather drained my enthusiasm for further writing, apart from a couple of short stories, so this morning I dragged my carcass to a local coffee shop with a notepad and pen, and managed to scribble a few pages of my new novel away from the distractions of the computer. The tea was surprisingly decent too. (I rarely drink coffee, even in coffee shops.)

Another distraction - not entirely welcome - is having our old kitchen ripped out. Floors, ceiling, wiring the lot. Obviously we're having a new one fitted, we're not having it ripped out for fun or anything. Trouble is, we seem to have uncovered a catalogue of disasters, from an unsupported wall that could crash down at any moment, to an ominous leak under the floor meaning it's got to be dug up and investigated by the water board. AARRGGHH!! I've already put my mum off coming down twice because of the chaos, but it'll be time for her Christmas visit at this rate.

A much nicer distraction is L-Plate author, Mel's, new blog High Heels and Book Deals, which is worth a look if you haven't already been over there. Lots of writerly interviews, features and book reviews to wallow in, and I even won a copy of Lucy Diamond's new novel Sweet Temptation over there.

Which cheered me up no end.