A Novice Novelist

Secret Cinema presents...

2012-01-25T12:47:00.001Z

It is now safe to tell you about an exciting mission that took me and two friends deep into the shady heart of 1940s Vienna...

‘Psst! Do you want to go to a secret cinema?’

This was the tantalising question that arrived with a ‘ping’ into my Inbox last November. I quickly tapped a resounding and enthusiastic ‘YES!’ and hit send, only later thinking to ask ‘what actually is a secret cinema?’ A few discreet enquiries revealed that it's the brainchild of a specialist event company who take great delight in creating a theatrical spectacle based around a cult classic film. Clues are sent in a series of mysterious email communications and half the fun is trying to guess what you're going to see.

We were given this dress code...

A rogue-ish dress code

…and were told to meet a man carrying balloons outside Barbican tube station. It was all incredibly exciting. We booked into the Powder Room in Soho for some vintage hairstyling, ready to play our part as 'Rogues'. Already some subterfuge was going on as my long hair was very cunningly disguised into a bob.

A quick bite to eat at Leon in Soho

We met our contact and soon were being hurried along the dark streets by uniformed officials shouting ‘schnell’, creating bafflement in modern onlookers. Our destination was the shadowed entrance to a former ‘lead and glass’ warehouse in Clerkenwell. Practically everyone had adhered to the dress code, and this styling, combined with subtle smoke and clever lighting, helped create the illusion that we had turned back the clock, had suspended time.

Checking ID at the entrance to the International Zone

This feeling became more apparent as we entered the yard. Everywhere we looked was perfect – the money exchange swapping our sterling into Austrian schillings, the decorative bars in all their faded glory, the secretive gambling club upstairs, the spivs trying to barter watches and nylons. Every new arrival brought a book to leave behind – later to be swapped or given to charity - resulting in a heaped table filled with treasure.

Posters tying the film with the era

The money exchange

A higgledy piggledy pile of books

Clever lighting helped set the mood for film noir

The audience were part of the play – unrehearsed but just as key. Our greatest compliment came when we asked someone to take our picture. ‘But I thought you were actors!’ he said. Vintage mischief managed!

Me, no doubt transfixed by the wandering balloon seller

Lovely friend S

Lovely friend M, one of the bloggers behind To Happy Vegans

In what must have been a feat of unseen project management, little groups were gathered and rushed away to be shown secrets and illusion, helping to create the atmosphere of suspense. We whispered passwords and were ushered behind the bar, down echoing stone steps into a smoky long cellar. Here we played follow the leader through a strange underworld - scurrying across planks of wood bridging water, ducking through tunnels - were we chasing or being chased?

The motif of the evening was the man in a trilby hat – he lurked in the shadows; he appeared in the smoke. Occasionally you’d look up and there he was...

The man with the trilby hat

You may have guessed the film by now. It was The Third Man. And it was the best cinematic experience of my life!

Take a look at the short clip below to find out more...

Read M's write up at To Happy Vegans
Read more about Secret Cinema

Thanks to M for some of the pictures included on this blog post

Writing workshop with Nicola Morgan

2012-01-22T13:50:00.000Z

One of the best things you can do for your writing self, if at all possible, is to attend a writing workshop or a conference. Not only do we benefit from the insight of professional people within publishing, but for that day, evening, or hour, we live as writers – we are writers, and everyone around us writes, and these are our people, and this is our industry.

For me, both aspects are equally important. Writers work in isolation – we physically tuck ourselves away to write, and then mentally retreat from real life into the fantasy world of words. It can be hard to keep the flame alive, especially for unpublished folk who maybe don’t have anyone else cheerleading for them – time and again you have to speak against the doubting voice in your head, and it can be hard to convince yourself ‘I am a writer; I will be an author’, especially if the majority of your day is spent being someone else entirely.

Workshops are fab as they reaffirm our ambitions and aspirations. They are even nicer when they are run by someone like Nicola Morgan - a successful published author who clearly knows her stuff and delivers considered advice in a thoroughly engaging way. Readers of her blog, Help! I Need a Publisher!, will know that she holds the number one google ranking for ‘Crabbit Old Bat’, a moniker bestowed because of her honest forthright opinions on writing. What I've also discovered is that self-confessed crabbit old bats are also warm, witty, and incredibly nice people.

I was attending the workshop with Vikki, the writer behind Back to the Castle (and musician / costume maker extraordinaire), and so caught the 4.50 from Paddington up to Oxford. Being a huge Agatha Christie fan I was very tickled to get this train, although I’m happy to report there was a distinct lack of murders.

After a whistle-stop tour of the centre of Oxford, cunningly planned to incorporate a stop for delicious cake, we descended on Blackwell’s lovely bookshop. There was a good sized crowd of people with notebooks already seated as we scurried into place, and a show of hands revealed that we were nearly all fiction writers, with a small scattering of non-fiction amongst our number. Nicola’s talk was everything I was expecting but with added sparkle – she brought characters with her to demonstrate the numerous ways writers can fall into pitfalls, such as the dramatic woman in love with her own prose, the elderly lady who wants to write for children as ‘it’s easy’. This was a really clever and fun way to highlight key points from her presentation.

The part of the workshop I was most looking forward to was writing the pitch paragraph. This is the paragraph that appears in your covering letter – the bit that condenses your novel, the hook that sells your story. I am currently at this stage and so need all the help I can get! We’d been nicely led to this crucial moment - Nicola imbibing us with knowledge, and the red wine served at the interval perhaps giving a bit of Dutch courage. All I know is that for the first time I really seemed to get it – a paragraph fell from my pen onto my notebook, and I really, really like it. It needs a bit more work but the bones are there now, which is brilliant. Not only that, but all attendees got a free copy of Nicola’s e-book, Write A Great Synopsis, which I am halfway through reading and heartily recommend already.

And the best way to end such a magical evening? A glass of wine with friends in a lovely high-ceilinged Art Deco bar. Cheers to Oxford, Blackwell’s, Nicola Morgan, and Vikki! I now have some writing to do. *grins*

The UK's largest second hand bookstore

2012-01-10T16:47:00.005Z

‘I have a treat for you,’ said good friend C, when I travelled across the country to see her shortly before Christmas. ‘You’ll like it’, she added. ‘It involves books.’

To be precise, it involved more books than you can shake a stick at.*

This was no mere bookstore. It was instead a Giant Warehouse Stacked to the Sky. The sheer amount of books actually reduced me to round-eyed silence, and for a good few moments all I could do was pathetically poke book spines with my gloved finger, turning around every so often to look at Good Friend C with an expression hovering somewhere between dumb gratitude and awed wonder.

Books! Thousands upon thousands of books!

The next second I was gone. The last Good Friend C saw of me for at least two hours was my woolly hat disappearing around a stack of shelves.

I soon adopted the walk of the professional consummate book scanner (slow pace forward, head-at-slant, eyes flickering over book spines). Happily I began to accumulate treasure. A 1965 edition of Charles Webb’s The Graduate? Yes please. P. G. Wodehouse’s Summer Lightning? I thank you. Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange with that iconic graphic cover image? Yup yup.

Occasionally I’d bump into another book scanner; we’d apologise in hushed tones and continue on our way. And so I wound deeper and deeper into the warehouse, following shelves and stacks and piles and papers, until I came to the wild card of the warehouse: The unclassified section. ‘These books haven’t been sorted!’ the sign gleefully said, suggesting untold literary jewels might be hidden within the million copies of Giles, pet care annuals from the 1970s**, and instruction manuals for microwaves.

The way ahead looked dark and dusty. I texted good friend C to check she hadn’t expired of boredom but she was comfy in the coffee area way back at base camp. So I wrapped my scarf around me, and scurried in.

(You might get the impression from the gloves, hat and scarf that the warehouse was a little chilly. Don’t be misled. That warehouse was frickin’ freezing. I could see my breath in those lost back alleys of Unclassified.)

After a while even I had to call it a day. My Life Force urgently needed replenishing (anyone remember TV show Knightmare?). I had to find a hot coffee and a cake of some sticky description before my virtual eyeballs rolled away. Also, and more importantly; I couldn’t actually carry any more books. The Giant Warehouse had defeated me.

It’s only when you are physically surrounded by what looks like the entire stock of Amazon that you realise just how many books there are in the world. Billions of books – good books, bad books, books that surely only got published because someone along the line was squiffy. And then there are the invisible authors behind the books – hopeful authors, earnest authors, authors that dreamed big things, authors that stayed up late and got up early and typed their little hearts out, all to end up in the Giant Warehouse just waiting for someone like me to find their words again.

I love hearing their voices speak to me from the books and wonder about their lives, whether publication was the Holy Grail for them or whether it was a by-product of their academic progress, a sideline, so to speak. I wondered about the people that wrote the microwave cookbooks, the children’s fiction epics that were swept under and aside by Narnia, the books that didn’t have the sprinkle of fairy dust needed to make them shine.

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

Book treasure rescued from the Giant Warehouse

Footnotes

* Surely you can shake a stick at anything regardless of its quantity and mass. I am quite capable of shaking a stick towards a mountain, for example. I can also shake a stick at my book collection. Apparently this saying came about because a confuddled shepherd was trying to count his sheep by waggling his crook at them, but couldn't do it because his flock was too big. I think he needed to come up with a more efficient counting method, personally.

**Old pet care books make me very sad. I can't even tell you why because then it will make you sad too. Let's think of something happier, like gambolling puppies and kittens. (Not gambling, though. Puppies and kittens are not known for their addiction to cards or pool-playing, despite what artist Louis Wain might have had us believe.)

And where is this large bookstore? Here: www.bookbarninternational.co.uk

Delights of the falling season

2012-01-03T15:47:00.001Z

It’s hard to crack open the blog when I’ve spent a little while away from it. I forget what words unlock my voice. So instead of struggling to find something profound to say that will encompass the highs and lows of balance finding, I will share some fun things from the tail end of last year. (Last year already! Time flies on hummingbird wings.)

A Happy Meeting

I had the good fortune to meet with the lovely bloggers behind Happy Frog And I and HeArtfully Drawn. A few messages passed between us beforehand (I have long hair! I’m wearing a red coat! I have on boots!), the way they do when online acquaintances skip past the monitor and land in the real world as friends. We instantly got along, nattering and chattering and laughing and sharing stories, making our table nestled inside a Paddington pub a small beacon of happiness. All too soon it was time to wind scarves around necks and bid a fond farewell... until next time.

A Grand Evening

Ever since the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel threw open its refurbished doors I have wanted to wander inside and soak up its luxurious Art Deco atmosphere. Luckily two good friends felt exactly the same way, and since we were in a celebratory sort of mood, we made reservations at the Gilbert Scott restaurant. This was (and still is, in a way) the Dining and Coffee Room of the original Midland Grand hotel, with pillars of polished limestone and gilded capitals carved with conquers, pea pods, and bursting pomegranates.

The decor of the bar area is magnificent. There is something about sitting in such a chic environment that makes backs straighten, and anticipation thread through the air like stardust.

The ceilings were a marvel...

...awash with colour and style...

...and blinking large bells!

We enjoyed a lovely meal and relaxed afterwards with their signature cocktail, the 1873. Again it was one of those sparkling evenings where time fooled us, skipping ahead around the corner before we realised it had slipped away.

Read a lovely write-up of our night by M at To Happy Vegans

A Classical Spectacular

One of my biggest indulgences is going to the Royal Albert Hall at least once a year to listen to amazing orchestras. My mum shares my passion, so we excitedly look forward to our treat – a day ‘up west’ window-shopping, a pause for a coffee and cake, and then dinner in Kensington before the show. A Classical Spectacular will be a night of very accessible scores – as well as Elgar, there could be Ravel, Handel, Verdi, the ‘infernal galop’ of the Can Can, a tenor singing Nessun Dorma... A beautiful evening lost in music, letting thoughts soar into dreams.

Query letters

2011-12-12T12:30:00.000Z

The only thundercloud that masks the sunshine and light of writing a novel is the bit when you actually begin to make marks on the page. The conclusion may therefore be drawn that the sunshine and light part is the thinking about writing a novel - the research and sketching of a tetchy skeleton idea. The rest of it sends your stomach into plunging knots, your hopes on a roller-coaster ride, and your clutching, grasping fingers to the nearest biscuit barrel, or coffee-jar. Or alcoholic beverage.

Yes, I’m writing a query letter. (Again, she whispers. The other one didn’t count.)

Now, my problem is this: I had a query letter. The two paragraphs in it that described my novel worked really well. They won a prize. People liked it. Everything in query letter world was massively happy. Apart from...

... the novel rewrite has meant my paragraphs are redundant. They are now ex-paragraphs. Oh, they work at a push, and I’m sure if agent folk read them and thought hm! (in a happy hm! sort of way) that they would then go on to read the synopsis and chapters and probably think even more happy hm! type thoughts. But they might not. They might instead think 'why doesn’t that synopsis quite match the query letter?' Most terrifyingly they might think 'do I want to work with an author that doesn’t spot her query and novel don’t quite match?' My inner editor is cringing as it knows I should rewrite the golden paragraphs to make them fit. But I don’t wanna! I just don’t. I’d rather lick the road. (In fact, we have been through this horror list before.)

Even worse than rewriting those two paragraphs is re-doing the paragraph writing about me. Me on me – now you’d think, surely, that I could do that one, and be convincing about it. If anyone knows me, it’d be...well... me. But because query letters are so butt-achingly important my fingers seem to jam up on the keyboard. Remember the glorious mess you could get into with typewriters when you banged all the keys at once and everything jammed? Yes, exactly that. I feel like I am constantly reaching for mental Tippex (and the delete button).

The annoying thing is I know I can do this. I know that agents will like to work with me, if we ever get that far. But until I can un-jam my fingers it’s just not going to happen. I did hear a rumour that cupcakes do wonders for unjamming, so am off to find a few at lunch-time to eat after dinner and then we’ll see what happens. But since the next chance I’ll have to think about query letters, novel, and my life in general is a whole eight hours away (yay, full-time work, she says weakly) then perhaps a miracle will happen in-between times and it'll work itself out. Or, maybe and more likely, this evening I’ll sit at the computer with my brain lolling in my lap and only have the nodes connected enough to think ‘must find 80s music on YouTube’. Sadly, that is how some evenings roll. It is too early as yet to tell which way this Monday will jump.

Toys from 1976

2011-12-09T16:02:00.000Z

An artist has uploaded the entire contents of an Argos catalogue from 1976. Let’s explore the toys...and prices!

Electric Washer and Cash Register

I love the description of this cash register: ‘Decimal currency price flags raised by 13 button control.’

Thirteen button control! My friend had one of these. It was great fun pushing those thirteen buttons, I seem to recall. What a shame it didn't come with real money.

I am gutted I didn’t have the washing machine. I could have played The Game of the Missing Sock and Who Dyed My White Shirt Red?

Toy Electric Washer. Tumble washes and spins. Operated by batteries. £3.45
Cash Register. Spring release drawer and paper reel. £2.75

Scooter and Bike

This was my scooter. There were no brakes. You just held on for dear life when going down a slope – in fact, I don’t think its wheels could cope with slopes. I seem to remember I always fell off, usually because I was attempting An Ill-Advised Stunt.

I may have also had this bike, which is described as a ‘Pony’ Pavement Cycle. Pony is British slang for rubbish... but I liked my bike! It was certainly not rubbish. It got me from A (the school driveway) to B (the alley behind my house) by way of C (the brook). ‘C’ wasn’t meant to happen. I was cycling down a slope which led to the brook and wondered what would happen if I cycled with my eyes shut. The result of my experiment was my 8-year old self went straight into the brook, and then the bike fell on my head.

Bantel 3-wheel scooter. £4.25
'Pony' Pavement Cycle. Detachable stabilizers. Front wheel cable brake. £17.95

Kojak board game

I didn’t have the Kojak game with its ‘Beretta’ type plastic gun. (Yikes!) Nor did my brother, which was probably a good thing as I just know those sucker darts would not have been aimed at that board.

Chad Valley 'Kojak' Target Game. 'Beretta' type plastic gun and sucker darts. £1.99

Tiny Tears doll

I did have Tiny Tears, the doll that wouldn’t stop weeing. You fed the doll water and then it would drip out of the other end, so to speak. Everywhere you put the doll would be damp. If only I had the washing machine toy. Missed opportunity there, mum.

Casdon 'Bernie and Bath' set. Soft vinyl doll with rooted hair and accessories. £2.99
Palitoy 'Tiny Tears' Baby Doll. Drinks, cries and wets her nappy. £4.75

The entire catalogue can be found by following this link

Kindle glee

2011-12-06T12:51:00.000Z

Oh happy days! I have won a kindle. Picture me grinning ear-to-ear like a Cheshire Cat in a cardigan.

The lovely (and amazingly generous!) author DJ Kirkby was having a competition on her blog to win a kindle. Blimey, I thought, I’ll have a pop at that. (Translation: I’ll enter that swiftly, fine fellows.)

You could have knocked me down with a well-washed pigeon feather when DJ sent me a message via Twitter to let me know I had won. Seriously?! I tweeted back, just before I sailed underground on the good ship Victoria (line). Everything was delayed so I then spent an hour without signal wondering whether I’d imagined it. But no! Up I popped into signal-land and DJ confirmed it was real. WHOOOP!

Well. Isn’t that just the best Christmas present before Christmas ever? I am chuffed to mega bits. (Translation: One is rather happy.) In fact I have been doing virtual star jumps ever since.

So I’d like to say thank you, DJ Kirkby, for being so wonderful and thank you to the Random Generator Thing, which selected my name, and thank you to the authors Rebecca Emin, Stephanie Parker, and Kevin Mahoney, who have donated free copies of their novels to add to the kindle. I am really looking forward to reading your books.

Some links for you

DJ Kirkby - if she isn't there already, add this lady to your blog roll / Twitter right now! She is inspiring (she gets up very early to write before her day job); her blog posts range from thoughtful and informative to downright fun, and she is a lovely person as well. Her first novel is Without Alice - insightful, thought-provoking, and very moving. My signed copy is already on my book shelf!

Rebecca Emin - at the moment Rebecca has a series on her blog about her self-publishing adventures - very interesting and helpful to all authors. Her first novel is New Beginnings.

Stephanie Parker - I'm new to Stephanie's blog but am looking forward to getting better acquainted! Her debut book is called The Green King.

Kevin Mahoney - his first novel is called A Fame of Two Halves. Joanne Harris, author of Chocolat, is quoted as saying: "A tremendous first novel - wry, funny and clever. I hope it's the first of many." Sounds good!

I want to live in John Lewis

2011-11-30T17:14:00.000Z

I scuttled into the large department store John Lewis after work last night. Well, when I say ‘scuttle’, I was bounced along the Metropolitan line, ejected at Baker Street, squooshed down towards the Bakerloo line, trundled on the tube, and then splashed out as part of a giant wave of people at Oxford Street, straight into another giant wave of people trying to rush back down into the station.

After a bit of confused ebbing and flowing I finally escaped into the shop. There is something about department stores that picks me up and cuddles me in rich soft duvets. I waft around pretending I can afford this and that, and look at things like fabric for my imaginary house. Within the store’s well-lit walls anything can be possible, and I’ve decided I want to live there.

I didn’t make this decision lightly. There are four department stores worthy of consideration within a walk of Oxford Circus. These are Debenhams, Selfridges, John Lewis and Liberty’s.

If Lived in Debenhams

I wouldn’t be able to resist the makeup and beauty department. I’d sparkle with glitter gloss and super shine. I’d have huge false eyelashes and would swan around in tons of reasonably priced bling. In fact, I’d bling and shine so much that I’d cause the national grid to do a Matrix like surge of power and cut all the lights in the west end. It’s probably not a wise move to let me live in Debenhams.

If I lived in Selfridges

I’d be no good at living in Selfridges. I’d be too tempted to clear all the stock out and just sell fridges. I’d employ traders with plenty of chat to sell them as if they’re flogging a job lot down Hackney Market, and every buyer would get a yellow Selfridges bag with spare fridge parts and egg racks. And then when all the fridges had gone I'd rename the store 'Sodfridges' and sell flowers instead.

If I lived in John Lewis

I would write novels about the hunt for the perfect kitchen utensil in the style of Moby Dick - 'Chief among these motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whisk itself.' You can picture its majesty I'm sure. It would be a publishing sensation, and while I was writing, I'd be an elegant addition (perhaps) to the sofas. I’d even be willing to point people in the right direction if they were lost and needing new moleskine notebooks. I’d create fabulous artwork out of the contents of the haberdashery department, and cry tears of joy to be John Lewis’ new Barbara Hepworth with buttons.

If I lived in Liberty’s

If I lived in Liberty’s I’m afraid it would go straight to my head. I’d hole up in the Grand Scarf Hall and the next time you see me I will be doing the dance of the seven sheer silk and bloody expensive veils. I might bolt the doors to shoppers and stalk the store in various velvet cloaks, gloating at my incredible fortune. People will look up at the candle-lit windows to watch me waltz past, occasionally reappearing on a different floor in a new hat. I’d throw petals down into the street, yell ‘ahoy’ in honour of Liberty’s sea-faring connection, and cause debate in the House of Commons about whether I’m a wonderfully eccentric tourist attraction or just a ruddy nuisance. I feel my residence may be rather short-lived.

So there you have it. John Lewis it is. Me and my button-sculpturing and Moby Dick parodying skills are poised to move in immediately!

Rewrite Update

2011-11-11T16:39:00.000Z

What to say
when life gets in the way?
Sometimes there are quiet times
and I retreat off stage
to let another person take centre place
and speak my lines.

Every time I click on my blog I feel horrendously guilty for not being here, tremendously happy to see none of you have gone away, and touchingly thrilled to see more people have joined. I’m sorry for being so quiet of late. The Grand Novel Rewrite alongside the Annoying Three-Hour-a-Day Commute and the Stupidly Busy Full-time Work tipped me screaming over the edge.

I’m back now, though. Imagine me striding from the jungle with the novel in a knap-sack, the triumphant tune from Indiana Jones playing in the background.

Some of you asked why I decided to do the rewrite. The easiest explanation is that I felt ‘something’ wasn’t right, but at the same time had a total belief in the actual story. So in July I pieced together feedback and advice, considered what would happen to the plot if I made some drastic changes, and decided that it would work rather nicely. So August was spent writing a whole new beginning, and then September and October I worked through the rest of novel, finally finishing up just before Halloween.

Auspicious, maybe? Bwahahaha.

After that I was completely knackered! I needed to resettle myself in the world, spend time with friends, tidy up, and just breathe. The new-look novel needed to breathe as well. So it’s been in a metaphorical drawer for the last two weeks but this weekend it’ll come out and I’ll work on it anew. Looking forward to it! The synopsis is mainly done too, so now all that is left is a fresh look at my query letter, and then away she goes. I’m pondering the wisdom of querying so close to Christmas but it all goes into a pile to be read eventually, and I don’t think my manuscript will be mistaken for a mince pie, so I’m sure all will be fine.

However, I did have one last little burst of creativity at the end of October – I managed to enter the National Poetry Contest by the skin of my teeth. (Eugh – I’ve always hated that saying. Whose monstrous teeth have skin?!) I’ve always loved poetry – writing, reading, listening, speaking – but it’s the first time I’ve sent a poem away anywhere. It’s new ground for me in the way the poem is put together but that’s the whole point of poetry – reaching and stretching to see where words can go. The contest shortlist / winners will be announced in spring 2012. Oh so long to wait!

Halloween

2011-10-31T17:23:00.000Z

It is time to hunker down and embrace the dark half of the year. Happy Samhain everyone!

Drink from Goblets of Cheery Doom

Eat devilish fairy cakes

Carve a wicked Jack

I am so glad my Art degree hasn't gone to waste! Did you dress up or do anything special for Halloween?

Synopsis secrets

2011-10-26T15:19:00.003+01:00

You may have guessed from my last post that I find conjuring a good synopsis out of blank paper rather tricky. But, now the painful part is over and I have finished howling at the moon, I thought I’d share some secrets that worked for me.

(When I say worked, only time will tell of course.)

Make a list of yucky things that seem preferable to writing a synopsis. Decide that writing a synopsis is infinitely better than, say, licking cat vomit.
Read each chapter of your novel and write one paragraph describing the main events. I did this in long-hand and came up with three or four pages of scribble. (Scribble being my default best handwriting.)
Type this up and edit where necessary.
Read it over. Does your synopsis mention:
- Main characters (only the protagonists that move the story forward are needed)
- Setting, including year
- Main plot and sub-plot
- The ending (very important. Don’t be coy!)
Take out anything superfluous - think plot; think the simplest terms for someone else to understand that plot
Make sure the synopsis tone of voice reflects the novel tone of voice
Edit, edit, edit! Edit until you’re sick! Edit some more!
Read it aloud. Tweak if needed.
And breathe...

As for practicalities – unless the agency / publisher you are submitting to have specific guidelines (and most do), I use Times New Roman, point size 11, single-spaced typing. I might increase the font size to 12 when actually sending it out - cheers Giles! (see comments). I wouldn’t go over two pages, perhaps three at a push. Think of it as a CV – everyone has a CV but most companies don’t want you to send it in as they have their own forms. So say some agencies want a one-page synopsis - if you have something you are happy with you'll be able to prune it to what's needed.

And the best thing about writing a synopsis?

It really, really helps your novel. At least, it did for me. I started working on my synopsis earlier this year, and it identified a problem with my novel. Each time I began the synopsis I started it at a certain point - but this wasn't the point where my novel started. This discrepancy revealed a lurking fear that I'd started my novel in the wrong place - buried the poor thing in back story - and finally this set me on the path of the gigantic rewrite.

So, if things work out, I'll have to shake that synopsis by the hand and buy it a drink. It probably won't stop me writing lists about awful things I'd rather do than write one, but at least now I understand. A synopsis is your novel's best friend.

Things I would rather do than write a synopsis

2011-10-18T13:19:00.001+01:00

1. Lick cat vomit

2. Drink a roadside puddle

3. Eat whatever’s lurking at the back of the office fridge

4. Ride a rail replacement bus through London at the weekend holding a bag of thawing fish

5. Write a 20-page report on the varying nuances of beige, complete with chemistry compound tied in to theories of depression

6. Get pooped on by a pigeon with chronic diarrhoea

7. Wear pale trousers, sit on chocolate, and walk around all day oblivious of suspicious stain

8. De-clog a railway station toilet with my bare hands

9. Root around scary storage centres on my own at night for obscure pieces of stage equipment

10. Watch daytime chat show programmes on a continual loop until my mind bleeds out of my nose

11. Sit a three-hour exam on Advanced Maths

12. Enter the Guinness World Record cracker eating contest

13. Drop and smash a priceless antique in a shop with a sign that says ‘Nice to see, Lovely to hold, If you break it, Consider it sold’

14. Sew my fingers together and then pull the thread out very, very slowly

15. Go mud larking in bare feet along the Thames in central London

16. Ask the most gorgeous man in the world on a date

17. Walk around all day in towering heels

18. Go for colonic irrigation

19. Wear butt-skimming hot-pants to a work conference

20. Eat a raw onion as if it’s an apple

I have done #9, #14 and #17. As for #16... maybe one day. *grins*

Just to clarify #14. It was a textiles lesson at school. I was thirteen and bored. We were supposed to be sewing something dull and one of the boys instead sewed the thread through the pads of his fingers and was trying to gross us out. He dared one of us to do it. I took him up on the challenge and realised it didn't really hurt if you used shallow stitches; it just looked awful and freaked out the teacher. Then to get the thread out you pulled it slowly from one side, trying not to break the skin - and this felt really weird and icky. It wasn't a clever thing to do as it can make your fingers very sore, so please don't try it! Not that you would, of course. You have brains.

Quelle horreur!

2011-10-03T15:33:00.000+01:00

So. As you know (or if you are new here - hello! Take a seat! I'm about to start flailing!) I am on a mission with the rewrite of the novel. A complete and utter mission. This little puppy has to be done and dusted by the end of October or my name's not Jayne Ferst. (Ah. Bad example.)

There are a lot of changes to make.

1. Main character is forty years younger.
2. This means the setting (for a bit) is now 1962 instead of 2002.
3. It's now first person narration, instead of third person.
4. It's present tense intead of past.

So there's a lot to do, but whereas I thought the rewrite would be like lifting up the rug of my Word document and gently flapping it, watching it settle down and glow with magic and promise, instead I notice the rotten rug is sewn together with 'suddenly' and 'just' and 'quite'. Also what is with my characters 'looking' everywhere, all the time? They look up, they look down, they look all-a-sodding-round. I've also noticed they constantly bite their lips.

My poor characters - I've inadvertantly given them neck-ache and an addiction to lip balm.

So the rewrite is keeping me very busy indeed and apologies for not blogging as much or getting around to visit as many blogs as I would like (although if you comment I will pop by at some point). Here, have a picture of some autumn leaves:

Lines Thought beneath an Elm at Lunchtime on the way back to the Office of Harrow

2011-09-29T14:06:00.000+01:00

Spot of my thirties! whose wistful ambition sighs
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod
The path of these thoughts before, as I plod
Like those who, scatter'd far, perchance deplore,
The time they spent in full-time jobs before:
Oh! That glorious day! An author I'll be
Mine eyes admire books, my heart adores thee
Thou glorious words! Within you I lay
And frequent scribble'd procrastination away;
Where, as it once were wont, to the sock drawer I'd stumble
And tidy and pair and sort and grumble
How do thy stories, alive underneath my fingers
Invite me to remember and smile and linger
And seem to whisper, gently and sincere
"Your time will come, keep going, persevere!"

Author: Jayne and Lord Byron
Real poem can be found here

As the world falls down

2011-09-21T14:57:00.000+01:00

Caught in a trap
I can’t walk out
Because I worry too much, baby

It’s agonising when decisions feel too hard to make. The result is paralysis – you neither move forward nor back. Everything feels so heavy – giant boulders that only I can balance and all my attention is on them so I miss seeing the flowers around the edges. Sometimes I look away and the world sparkles but dem boulders are just so big, they demand dominance.

Depression is an awful thing. The problem is it doesn’t allow for any perspective – thoughts fracture and scurry around in tiny circles. There are no solutions in that darkness; it’s very claustrophobic. There's a feeling of separation from others, like living in a bubble - the partition is there but no one else can see it.

I can only write about it when it’s not with me (although if you are prone to depression it never exactly goes away – it circles your perimeter fence and waits for an unwary sentry). But I still can’t make any decisions – and I really need to, soon, at any rate. I’ve sequestered myself away for too long and need to start living a life again.

I had some time out recently – I had the house to myself and booked time off the day job to enjoy the peace and quiet in the hope that it would be productive. It took a little while to change the swing of my thoughts from day job to writing, but once I was in the zone, so to speak, it was fantastic. I was up at 6am each day and tapping furiously on the keyboard. The rewrite didn’t know what hit it. I forged ahead and fell in love with words again – that magic moment when the writing wheels seem to turn on their own. At the end of each day I looked back and thought gosh! I did that! I wrote that! It was a feeling that had been a long time missing.

I’m back at work now and still have that time-off energy – I can feel it as I make lists of work things to do, hum a tune on the way to the office kitchen, catch up with colleagues. It is prompting me to chip little bits off those boulders, to tackle small decisions that are easier to digest. It calls my attention to everything I love about autumn and tells me that the world is wonderful and good things are ahead for me. Maybe all I needed was a little break, after all.

Image from the film poster for Labyrinth; title also from the film

If I could be anyone I'd be...

2011-09-14T07:51:00.002+01:00

Belle loves books and lives in a little town where everyone sings in tune. She is independent and confident enough to rebuff the charms of the local lothario. She takes control of the situations she finds herself in and actively seeks a solution. Belle is kind and thinks always of others, with a smile for everyone. She sees beyond superficial appearances and is calm in the face of tragedy. She falls in love with a person's mind, and it just happens to be a bonus that he is really a handsome Prince with a castle and a fantastic library.

Belle is definitely the person I'd like to be!

Today's post is in honour of it being the actual launch day of the lovely Talli Roland's new book, Watching Willow Watts.

In the novel, Willow becomes Marilyn Monroe, and Talli invited everyone to share who they would be if they could be anyone! Hence Belle. :)

I have had the privilege of reading a preview copy of Watching Willow Watts and it is very funny, very readable, and a lovely story. As you can guess from the title, Talli has a great eye for playful language and rhythm, and there are some cracking names throughout the book. Willow is a very likeable character - you are rooting for her from the start - and I won't spoil what happens but really enjoyed the story.

Want to read it yourself? Excellent! You can go to Amazon UK and Amazon.com to get a copy for your kindle or e-reader. The paperback launch is coming up in November.

Fancy joining in the fun? Fab! Write a blog post titled 'If I could be anyone, I'd be...' and let Talli know so she can add you to this list. Then pop about and visit some new people - and hopefully they'll pay you a visit back again!

Talli's blog: talliroland.blogspot.com

Distracted

2011-09-13T12:38:00.001+01:00

1.   Hooray! Time to write.
2.   I’ll just make a coffee
3.   I’ll just check Twitter
4.   And Blogger
5.   Ooo that looks interesting – I’ll read that link
6.   I’ll comment. Best sign in
7.   Now I’m in I’ll visit some other blogs and comment
8.   I’ll update my own blog while I’m here
9.   Best update Twitter
10.   Have I checked my email?
11.   Ah. Just got to reply to that one. And that other one.
12.   Best check my work email just in case
13.   Hooray! Now I can start writing
14.   I’ll just go and make another coffee
15.   I really fancy listening to some music
16.   Love that video. Oh, I remember that song
17.   What are the lyrics to that song?
18.   I really need to sing along to this
19.   Found them! Let’s play and sing.
20.   I can sing a different song SO much better
21.   Found other song. Sing that instead
22.   Where are the cats?
23.   I’m hungry
24.   I really need to eat something sweet
25.   Biscuits are marvellous
26.   Where is my notebook?
27.   My notebook was under that really interesting book
28.   Might just read that page
29.   Will google that author and see what else they have written
30.   Will buy that on Amazon
31.   Where is my credit card?
32.   Marvellous. Oh, I might buy that DVD as well.
33.   Must back away from Amazon.
34.   I really need to write something
35.   I’m cold – need to find a jumper
36.   Hooray! I’m at my desk
37.   Where are my glasses?
38.   Wonder if I’ve had an interesting email yet?
39.   Wonder if the postman has been?
40.   Seriously, where are the cats?
41.   I’ll just go and make a cup of tea
42.   Wonder if anyone has commented on my blog?
43.    What can I see outside the window?
44.   I need to water that plant
45.   Who eats the pens in this house?
46.   Oh – the tumble dryer is beeping
47.   Might just cuddle the cats for a bit
48.   A snooze might help my creativity
49.   Is it time for lunch?
50.   I love days at home writing

Happiness

2011-09-09T17:00:00.002+01:00

Sometimes I get confused and think happiness is all about the big chunks – the large events, the all-singing and all-dancing milestones. A conversation with a friend last night made me think again.

Happiness is also found in the quiet hours – contemplating the flowers in the garden, watching the cats at play, hearing the raindrops patter on the roof and knowing you are cosy inside. I get so focused on the big picture that I forget all the little pictures that are part of me. So here are some little things recently that have made me happy…

The two girls I sit with at work also have creative ambitions outside of the day job – one is an actress and the other a singer – so we share each-other’s triumphs and root for each-other to succeed, which is rather lovely. And chocolate mini rolls were given out at tea-time in honour of my upcoming birthday (sh!).
Throwing myself into weird shapes at Zumba aerobics class and being pleasantly surprised at my fitness level. I still have one! I thought we'd have to send in Time Team to excavate it.
Last week at Jitterbugs (lindy hop dance club) I had a great time dancing and remembered my lindy turn, swing out and circle. We styled out our own moves and had tons of fun. It was also nice that so many people came up to say hello to me, considering I hadn't been for ages.
The line ‘touched down in the land of the delta blues in the middle of the pouring rain’ in the song 'Walking in Memphis'. Also the sax in Gerry Rafferty’s 'Baker Street'.
Far-flung friends remembering my upcoming birthday (sh!) and looking forward to celebrating next week by combining a love for hidden history, London, cupcakes, cycling, walking, fab food, and possibly a glass of wine (or two).
Having time off the day job to hopefully do tons of writing!
Wearing my ‘Knights of Good’ T-shirt. Do you watch The Guild? If so you will know what I mean.
Watching Hi-de-Hi. This was a BBC sitcom that ran in the 1980s and was filmed in a real holiday camp during the off-season. My family used to go there on holiday so I love watching the show (which is very funny) and recognising the situations and surroundings.
Meeting up with a good friend for dinner - we laughed and swapped thoughts over white chocolate and raspberry ripple swirl cheesecake. Yes, I did savour typing that sentence! (As well as the eating. Mmm.)
The instagram photography app. Beautiful filters that just make every single photograph stunning. As used on this post!
Being able to jump in my car and drive... (drive, drive, drive... *sings Rihanna*)
A cuddle with my cats. Cuddling Ginger is like holding a purring warm furry sunbeam. Cuddling Abigail is like holding a curious little fur-baby. You can probably guess which one is which!

What little things have made you happy recently?

Words

2011-09-04T13:27:00.001+01:00

Do you remember vocabulary books? These were slim exercise books given out at school in which we would write new words. I only recall them for a brief period of time; perhaps they were superseded by changes in curriculum and chaotic lessons. But I rather liked them, so I have decided to resurrect the idea.

Every time I discover a new word it gets recorded in my notebook. I have a guess what I think the words means and then look it up later when I get a chance. Here are a selection for your amusement!

Word: Lexical

I think: Correct terminology
Actual meaning: A dictionary term or definition
How close was I? Not bad

Word: Inchoate
I think: Incoherent
Actual meaning: Just begun, not fully formed, rudimentary
How close was I? Not even vaguely! Although I can see my thought pattern – same word family, right? (Wrong!)

Word: Coterie

I think: Group
Actual meaning: Small group with shared interests, exclusive to others
How close was I? Spot on

Word: Amanuensis
I think: Some sort of teacher
Actual meaning: Performing a function by hand, i.e. writing down the words of another. In Latin a manual labourer / secretary
How close was I? Way out

Word: Simony
I think: Traitor or treachery
Actual meaning: Paying for a position within church, trafficking for money within spiritual things
How close was I? Close but no biscuit

I love discovering new words and am always rather thrilled when I am reading and a word leaps out that I've never seen before. I like reading around it, trying to guess, seeing if there are any clues. Sometimes these guesses can put an interesting slant on sentences, one the author had not foreseen. Hence the notebook!

Flurry of Things

2011-09-01T17:43:00.003+01:00

That sounds like a title that should be used by speech therapists. However, a thlurry of fings have been happening on the writing-front, despite August hitting me with a slumber stick. Here is a mini round-up:

1. I attended a brilliant short story workshop in Northampton run by the writer Helen Hunt. It was called Insight to the Women’s Magazine Fiction Market – and she delivered a cracking workshop, packed full of information, as well as lunch! Met some lovely people and chatted about writing all day. Sadly I have no time at present to get going on ideas for that field but at least now I know more for when I do!
Find out about Helen's next workshop on her blog: fictionisstrangerthanfact.blogspot.com

2. I submitted some blog posts to the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook website and three have gone online all at once! This is amazingly exciting for me – if you have time, please do pop over and leave me a comment – it would be wonderful to hear from you. Swing by and find out about:

- My thoughts on Page Fright – be gone,Writer's Block!

- What it felt like to do to work experience later in life - Gaining Writing Experience

- What I think about the big R – Rejection (it may be an evil blighter, but there are lessons to learn.)
Hope you like them!

3. I am rewriting my novel. This is both hugely exciting and deadly, excruciatingly, terrifying. I’m feeling quite energised about it at the moment though, so am back to writing as much as I can around the full-time job, and utilising lunch-times and saved holiday allowance.
I have a whole six days off soon to write - whoop!

4. I bought Nicola Morgan’s book 'Write to be Published' and highly recommend it. If you have Nicola's book, Stephen King’s 'On Writing', and literary agent Carole Blake's 'From Pitch to Publication' on your bookshelf then I don't think you can go too far wrong. I also went to Nicola's book launch at Foyle’s in Charing Cross, met up with fab friends made via this blog, and even won a Crabbit bag. I am chuffed.
Find out more about Nicola Morgan, and her books, via her blog: helpineedapublisher.blogspot.com

5. I have started the OCD social media checking regarding any news on certain short story competitions. I can’t say which competitions as I fear a giant Jinx will smash down from on-high with its hairy foot. Both competitions do not even announce their shortlist until October. I am, ooo, about thirty days way too early.
Perhaps I have OCOD (obsessive compulsive online disorder).

6. I am going to mention Nicola Morgan again and I hope she doesn’t think I am being too gushing, but as well as being a busy fab author lady, she runs a writing consultancy called Pen2Publication. If you are at the stage where you need guidance or direction with your novel / writing, and are ready to accept criticism in order to find out how to be a better writer, then do check out what the consultancy can offer you. I did, and it is probably one of the best things I have ever done for my writing career to date.

Find out more about Pen2Publication here: pen2publication.co.uk

So that’s me in a Technicolor writing nutshell. And now it's time to welcome September with cosy knitted jumpers, warm scarves, glorious colours and crisp fresh air. As well as hiding my birthday, I always feel this is a magical month, full of promise. Good wishes for your own writing!

Writing, writing, writing – rawhide!

2011-08-23T17:10:00.001+01:00

I really should get a cushion for this chair. *winks*

This August I have been doing my best imitation of a pinball. Pow – I spring from my home and shoot towards the other side of London. There I sit staring at the computer puzzling over websites until the buzzers ring and shazam – off I slam back towards home to sit in front of another computer puzzling over my story. My poor eyes hate me. I keep having to squirt them with Moist Eye Stuff. When I become an author (not if, when) I shall revert to a typewriter and tippex. I shall write every morning and garden every afternoon (and drink like a fish every evening.)

If I were an author... a-yadda-yadda-yadda-ya...

In-between all this powing and shazaming I have been watching the signs of approaching autumn. I spotted a conker (horse chestnut) on the floor the other day. The trees are poised to reveal their autumn/winter collection 2011. The morning air is fresh and smells of leaves and earth. The temperature is beginning to dip either end of the day. The dawn is stirring out of bed later, yawning and slightly rumpled. I’m already snuggled in jumpers and striding to work in boots, dreaming of scarves and gloves. I am autumn girl. Hear me roar!

Despite not being at school, my thoughts always turn to stationery. New pencil cases, crisp notebooks, shiny folders. There is something very pleasing about fresh stationery. You shall fill me with wonderful things, it says. You shall not disappoint, it says, and that is where me and It sometimes have a parting of the ways, as I am a scribbler. I’m also a doodler. I still scrawl spirals and flowers and ‘HELP!’ signs in notebooks, although now during Meetings of Officialdom.

Maybe one day I’ll have a minion. I could send my minion to Meetings of Officialdom and I could be elsewhere stomping in puddles instead. It’d be rather nice if my minion liked ironing as well. And cupcake eating. Tuesday shall be declared Cupcake Day for both of us. Gosh, maybe I’d have to get my minion a minion. The life of a benevolent dictator seems so tricky all of a sudden.

Driving Miss Jayne

2011-08-17T15:54:00.002+01:00

A while back I got a car. This is my car:

I first took a driving test in 1993. Yikes! My mum crashed her car (with me in it) the previous day. I should have cancelled my test but didn’t, which, considering I’d spent the previous evening in hospital, was really, really stupid. Needless to say I failed (rather miserably) and then I gave up driving as couldn’t afford any more lessons. There was no need, I told myself, cars were expensive, other people drove, my work was easier to get to by trains and tubes.

But I always wanted to be The Jayne That Drives! I could see myself being the Jayne that drives – she zips around in classic cars with picnic baskets in the boot and goes on day trips to the beach. The Jayne that drives is a confident, go-getter sort of person, someone who makes things happen. The Jayne that doesn’t drive isn’t any of these things.

A conversational door closes when you don’t drive. It is hard to join in with talk on cars – petrol, makes, driving, distances. It depends whether you are someone who notices such things, but I am, and while it didn’t bother me at first, slowly I felt the distance lengthen.

Then I became the Jayne That Drives and the distance disappeared as if it was never there. My first foray was to the supermarket and coffee shop – I swung my car keys and bought my take-out coffee and suddenly felt part of something new. It felt good.

So far I have made only short forays, and have grinned with each new accomplishment. I parked in a car park! I found my windscreen-wipers! I put petrol in! I drove the cats to the vet! I made up a very silly driving song! (‘This is the driving song / You can sing along / But you can’t because you’re a cat / And that’s the end of that!’)

Tonight I’m off to see a friend and it will be the longest car journey yet. (Ten whole miles!) I have no sat-nav (or map) so have printed out large text directions to glance at if stuck. Although all will be fine, today has been spent needlessly worrying along the lines of:

1. Being in the wrong lane and ending up on the M25
2. Not being able to get off the M25 and ending up in a giant circle vortex
3. Getting totally lost
4. Breaking down
5. Not being able to change lanes on the A10
6. Changing lanes badly thus causing an accident
7. Not being able to see due to Sweat of Fear
8. Driving back in the dark
9. Missing the turn for A10 and getting stuck on the roundabout
10. Drivers beeping at me and road raging

That’s about it so far. Give me another hour and I’ll prob be able to write ten more!

When did you start driving? Where did you go on your first journey?

Update: Did the journey! All went very well. Yeay!

Greta Garble and the Great Cupcake Incident

2011-08-12T17:22:00.007+01:00

I am Greta Garble at the moment. I can’t write! I just can’t. Every sentence I try looks at me as if I’m having a laugh. Read that back to yourself and weep, it says smugly, and when I do I realise I have spent an hour crafting a load of baloney.

If my novel was a pencil-top eraser it would now be worn to a sad sorry little stump. I can’t seem to stop revising and editing. It’s because I have decided to make some hefty changes and the very idea makes me want to howl at the moon. So it’s all an uphill struggle at the moment, but there are some things that make a difference.

1. Even if you only have time to write 200 words a day, that is 200 more than nothing
2. When everything is failing, say to yourself that you will only write to the end of the page. Taking off the pressure sometimes encourages creativity.
3. Remember that writing is what we choose to do and as much as it makes us want to tear our hair out, it’s also kind of lovely as well

Even writing a blog post feels kind of tricksy, like I am expecting it to lay in wait a paragraph down and trip up my fingers. Will I get over this strange feeling? It doesn't help that I have given up chocolate since the Great Cupcake Incident.

'What's that?' you say. 'The great cupcake whatta? Spill.'

Well. It was the other day. I was being Healthy and Good. I decided to go on a three-mile stride, as I rather like walking and thinking and plotting and admiring other people's gardens. I set out... and, despite good intentions, the only real place to walk around my area is away out of the borough towards a nice little tea shop.

I may have mentioned this nice little tea-shop before.

So I got there, Woman's Weekly Fiction Special magazine in hand, pen and notebook ready, determined that I was just going to have a coffee. I was lying to myself at this point as I knew full well I was going to have a chocolate cupcake and in fact all my plotting for the last 15 minutes of my walk had been completely cupcake orientated.

'We're having a sale,' chirruped the nice tea-shop lady. She wasn't a bird by the way. But she did chirrup somewhat. In a minute she'll carroll.

'All cakes half-price!' she carrolled.

Blogger buddies, I don't know what came over me. It was like the red velvet mist descended. Next thing I knew; I walked out of the tea shop with a box.

Yes. A box. A box of cupcakes.

I even did that thing in the shop where I pretended I was buying cakes for the family - 'oh mum will like this one and little brother Toby can have that one...'

(There is no little brother Toby. Toby was, in fact, a teddy-bear.)

Bad Jayne. However, my mum did get a cupcake eventually as even I, sugar fiend extraordinaire, can't eat a whole box of cupcakes.

There is a motto here and it probably should say something like if you are being Good and Healthy, avoid the chirrupy happy tea-shop lady. As for me? I'm now on a diet.

London

2011-08-09T19:26:00.002+01:00

It is heart-breaking to see what is happening in London recently. Be under no illusion that this wanton destruction is about protest; this is about theft. The people doing this don’t want to talk or bargain; they don’t wish to lobby for answers, better employment or less cuts. They just want free trainers. They really don’t care if they burn down a person’s business or home, damage communities or historical buildings, and destroy trust. None of that seems to matter if you can get a free, slightly cracked, plasma TV. They think it’s a game with no consequences.

Sadly, the consequences for a community and London as a whole go much further than an individual person being arrested for their crimes. Shops that once had pretty glass fronts may be tempted to put up ugly metal shutters. Barriers could be raised where once there were none; restrictions might be in place where once movement was free. That’s what they don’t realise, these silly people.

There is pride in being a responsible person in the world. With pride comes respect – respect for yourself and respect for those around you, for the natural world and how amazing it is to be alive. Being kind costs nothing and yet the dividend is priceless – far higher than anything they can steal.

I hope one day these people looting realise this.

PS - This post is opinion only, not an analysis.

August by the wayside

2011-08-06T17:48:00.005+01:00

August is thought to be the high season of holidays but really it is the month of unseen magic. Turn your face to sun! Relax and enjoy! It says. And while we play on the sand and splash in the sea Nature is readying the stage for autumn. Can you spot the magician at work?

I spy with my little eye...

Today I’m over there

2011-08-02T14:02:00.009+01:00

Just when I was about to Unleash the Gloom, I’ve discovered my next blog post is up on the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook website! In it I talk about OARS (Over-Active Research Syndrome). If you have time do pop over and leave me a comment – be great to hear your thoughts.

Click here to read about Over-Active Research Syndrome/

As for the Gloom… oh dear. There are a few reasons for the Gloom, mainly circling around living arrangements that need to be better arranged, not winning the lottery (which would greatly help the first reason), commuting in hot weather and general work / life balance doing its best Jedi mind trick - ‘There is no balance. Move along.’

But it’s cool (well, apart from if you are a commuter. Then it’s freakin’ hot.) I just have to keep focused on The Grand Plan. There is a new Grand Plan, y’see, and this one supersedes the other grand plan, which turned out not to be as grand as once thought. This new one rocks socks, it really does.

And because I have just heard from the vet that my Ginger boy is recovering nicely after having some dental work done, here’s a picture of him enjoying the sunshine.

Ps. Have changed my blog template slightly in the hope that it will sort out the annoying backlink problem. Here's hoping!

Apologies about Backlinks

2011-07-28T11:17:00.006+01:00

It seems that my blog posts are popping up a gadzillion times on other people’s blogs, under their posts. I have no idea why this is happening, and have asked Blogger HQ to look into it.

The only thing I think it ‘could’ relate to is that I follow a lot of blogs via the Blog List widget, which refreshes when people publish a new post on their blog. This blog list is in the frame of the template I use for my blog, so appears on every individual post page, and this seems to be what is throwing up tons of misleading ‘backlinks’ on blogs. But I’m not the only person to use the Blog List widget, so have no idea why it is just my blog that is showing up under ‘Links to this post’’. Why me?!

I have checked the settings of this blog and nowhere does it say ‘tick here for creating numerous annoying backlinks’.

As far as I can see, backlinks obviously don’t work the way they should, and I deselect them on here for that reason. They should only show actual links relevant to the post i.e. when someone had read a fab post, gone back to their blog, created a post about that person’s fab post, and published it saying ‘go read this person’s fabulous post!’ They should not be picking up everyone who links / follows a blog.

Is anyone else having this problem?

So until Blogger fixes it, I can only apologise. It is awfully embarrassing, but probably not as embarrassing as yesterday when I only realised in the evening that the zip on my dress was undone, which meant all day I was wandering around work flashing my underwear. Nice.

PS. While waiting for a reply from Blogger, I have decided to delete my Blog List and create a new one in the hope that the problem resolves itself!

Identity Crisis

2011-07-26T16:50:00.002+01:00

M’problem, m’Lord, is that my real first name is easy to shorten. So although I have the longer, formal name; I also have its friendly diminutive as well. Growing up everyone used the latter and the former was only uttered In Times of Dire Peril (e.g. by teachers when I was in trouble).

As I got older, it became completely associated with formality – banks and the like – and I tended to forget I had this longer name. Once, in an early job, someone rang for me using the full name and a colleague asked me if I knew a ‘__’, to which I gave a blank stare until recognition washed back a brain cell. ‘Oh – that’s me!’ I said, sheepishly taking the call.

It’s not like the real name is a fantastical name, like Petronella or Eglantine. It’s a nice, ordinary, name. But somehow I never associated it with me. I picture owners of that name as very confident, power-suit dressed females, who wear court heels every day and tap blackberries (phones. Not fruit. That would be wrong). They don’t wear paint splattered jeans, carry a Tabby cat on their shoulders, get lost in bookshops or trawl London in search of a cupcake. (And admittedly I don’t do all these things at once.)

However, there is a slight problem with the diminutive name. The worst problem at first was that other people with the name tended to sign off with an ‘ie’ and draw a little heart over the ‘i’. I do not sign off with an ‘ie’ or draw little hearts over my ‘i’s. One is not six. (Of course one is not six. One is one. But you get the gist.) The other problem, which grew into the worst problem over time, is that hardly anyone takes that name seriously. My diminutive name gets put on hold, gets lost in call queues, gets fobbed off by secretaries. My power-suit wearing name gets put through to the boss. It’s the same thing with email. Power-suit goes straight to your Inbox. Diminutive gets to play with Viagra in your spam box.

And in-between both these names, is Jayne. Jayne is, fittingly, my middle name, and was created purely to frolic online, un-tethered by power-suits and fwuffy puppies. There are reasons, boring self-esteem-ish reasons why I came here as Jayne, but here she is... I am, rather. And here be my problem.

Who the hell am I?!

Am I power-suit? Am I fwuffy pup? Am I Jayne? None feel quite right, yet somehow, inexplicitly, I am all three.

(Ferst is not my surname either. Oh how complicated I make things for myself!)

Isle of Wight

2011-07-24T11:08:00.005+01:00

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside

Oh I do like to be beside the sea

I do like to stroll upon the cliffs and take pictures of things

And then play silly machines until I win, win, win

So let me be beside the sepia seaside

I’ll be beside myself with glee!

Limbo land

2011-07-19T15:02:00.002+01:00

Thank you for bearing with me over the last month of sporadic blogging (apart from the Two Lost Followers. Oh dear. *waves*). I now have a computer that doesn’t crash, although I fear the bad old computer has led me into nasty habits, such as:

Turning computer on and wandering off to do something else while it slowly rumbles into life
Watching computer freeze on the Internet/Word/Everything and wandering off to do something else
Looking at computer, sighing, and wandering off to do something else

You can see there’s a pattern emerging here and it’s not congruent with writing (straight onto the computer, at any rate). It also doesn’t help that I’m living in the land of limbo.

For various reasons, this and that, la-la-la, limbo land has been a nice place for me to be. Och (she says, reverting inexplicitly to Scottish), it’s hard to explain. I’d have to sit you down with a glass of wine and flail my hands for a while. But the easiest explanation is that nothing changes (very much) in limbo land and there can be times in life when this feels attractive. The sun rises; the rain falls. The train is early; the train is late. You go to work; you come home. It is a place to regroup energy, a safe haven, a retreat. But stay too long and that energy will sap, the haven will suffocate and the retreat will pull up its mossy time-heavy drawbridge and dim the exit signs.

I need to get out of limbo land. It’s time for bold decisions – decisions about where to live, what to do. Ever read those Choose Your Own Adventure books? The ones where page 16 leads to happy-ever-after and page 20 leads to being eaten by a Minotaur? That is exactly what I need to do. (But not the Minotaur bit. I’m done with Minotaurs.) I need to start choosing my own adventure again.

Automated Service

2011-07-04T11:10:00.004+01:00

Hello readers of Jayne’s blog. Jayne would like to apologise for her absence, which she blames on a spongy home computer. Usual fixes of defragging, masking tape, a swift kick, imploring to the sky, and The Slow Silent Wail of Despair are no longer working. All the home PC (computer, not policeman) can do at the moment is open Word, and occasionally it unleashes Jayne on Twitter. Sometimes she can open other websites, and when that happens her joy is unconfined, until Blogger crashes and joy is once again locked away in a deep dark box.

However, there is a small glimmer of shining hope on the horizon, and this is called Payday. Payday (sing it like a gospel choir - Oh Glorious Day!) will mean funds for a new computer, and then this Giant Heap of Sticklebricks Jayne types upon can be laid to rest. It would work so much better as an ornament. Or perhaps a cat perch.

Until then, you may see Jayne having a Tweet. Her twitter ID is here – do say hello and sympathise on Computer Woe. (Kraftwerk had it all wrong – it’s not Love at all.)

From, Jayne’s Blog.

This automated service comes to you direct from Jayne’s Work Computer while Jayne is studiously and diligently working very, very hard.

Summer solstice

2011-06-21T17:15:00.001+01:00

My ancestors would have no doubt rejoiced and spent today skipping merrily around a field before drinking some dodgy crushed-buttercup beverage. They would probably have regretted it the next day, but would have licked a toad believing that was the latest remedy to cure buttercup hangovers. I know my people.

I’d rather like to be skipping around a field but it’s a work day. Skipping is most definitely frowned upon within the office, although I was caught dancing in the ladies bathroom. I’m always a little out of sync with the corporate world. Some days it shows more than others.

I haven’t actually stepped out of the office today. I have looked at the natural world from the window (the sky, the clouds, a tree) and watched a discarded plastic bag sail beyond the buildings. It’s not much of a homage to nature, is it?

But still, here I am, sharing a story, enjoying your fellowship. Our hearth may be virtual but the symbolism is the same. The solstice is all about creativity, about story-telling and companionship. It is a day for giving thanks and making provisions for the season to come. So if you are hoarding stories like a squirrel, today is the day to check your stores!

Those Rejection Blues

2011-06-18T10:06:00.003+01:00

One of my short stories didn’t make it in a competition recently, and all it seems to take is one teensy weeny rejection for me to think everything I write is utter crap. Writing is such a strange thing – there are no laurels on which to rest; you are only as good as the last thing you wrote, and if that was rejected then forget past success – everything in the entire world is rubbish.

Rejection reverts me into my sulky teenage self – I want to paint the walls black and listen to Pink Floyd.

When I’m in this mood, I am desperate for distractions. I tweet; I youtube old music videos; I research into the tiniest thing; I read. And then when I have nothing written, it is not ‘my’ fault that I didn’t write – it was the distractions what did it! They are to blame, those pesky shiny things just a click away, not me. It’s funny how the subconscious works.

The worst thing about rejection is how everything crashes down, the fragile house of cards that I seem to construct around each story, and then reality whacks me in the face with a soggy slipper. Everything in my life suddenly seems crystal clear, and not in a good way. It paves the way for the inner critic, the Aunt Aggie’s of the world, and hands them a free license and a mega-phone. For a few days I listen in stupefied silence – yes, I can’t write; no, I don’t know what I’m doing with my life; yes, I agree that’s rubbish; no, I don’t have a clue how I’m going to change things. The inner critic will take this chance to have a pop about everything – not just my writing, but the way I look, what I wear – it’s a sort of horribly gleeful internal scourging that is as painful as it sounds.

But then I’ll wake up and look at the world outside the window, the sun and the trees, and think, oh well. That was yesterday. Today is brand new. Anything can happen. And so my first card will be erected, and then another and another, and eventually I’ll have a new house of cards, and a new bit of writing.

Remind me next time to use superglue!

Any previous, guv’nor?

2011-06-07T16:48:00.005+01:00

On my blog profile I had put that I was working on my first novel while ‘ignoring the previous three hiding in disgrace under the bed.’ But this was, in fact, wrong. I just didn’t realise it.

Part of my learning process of writing a novel has been appreciating just what such an undertaking actually means. I had a serious think about my fiction writing the other day, and this is the grand tally over the years:

One complete adult novel - 2007 onwards
Three complete short stories currently ‘out in the field’- 2010 onwards
Three adult ideas that each only made it as far as three chapters, with not even a chapter plan between them. - 2002 - 2006
Two complete illustrated children’s picture books (one too short) - 1997 - 2000
One first draft of a finished mid-grade children’s novel (although also short in actual word-count, I think) - 1990 - 1991
Umpteen fun and false starts in all sizes and guises. - 1982 onwards

So really the current novel is the first – the first that I have planned, plotted, sweated, slaved and whooshed its way to creation and back again. (I did work bloody hard on the children’s picture book stories though.)

I’m grateful to all the other ideas as they have each helped me get this far, but I am deluding myself to think that any were actual finished novels – not in the grand novelly scheme of things.

So this is an interesting thought to have, and I’ll only whisper it once in case it gives me indigestion.

This current novel might not be the first one that gets published. It could be the practice novel for the better one I have yet to write.

Of course, I will cry buckets if that happens. I will declaim life is not fair; I will stare tragically into space ‘at all times’, and I will adopt a pathetic sigh. But thinking about it, as much as I love and adore this novel, it is unusual for a ‘first’ novel to get published. And as much as I hope my novel may be an exception, it may not, to be honest with you.

I’m not at this stage giving up on it. In fact, I am about to give it the best chance of its life.

*cue dramatic pause*

*cue annoying change of subject*

Funnily enough, there is something rather liberating about thinking that the next novel – the one that takes all these lessons and graduates with a PHD - could be the idea that makes it. But maybe that's because I'm close to sending this one off again (end of June, I am thinking) and the thought of it makes me feel slightly sick.

Perhaps we need to adapt that old saying – 'every day and in every way our writing is getting better and better.' Say it with me!

Do you have any full-length novels hiding away in a drawer?

Exciting Thing! (Revisited)

2011-06-02T09:44:00.004+01:00

My second blog post is up on the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook website!

For those that don’t know, the Yearbook is like the industry bible – full of advice and contact details – and I’ve been buying a copy since I was sixteen. My blog post muses upon 'Pantsers and Plotters' and explains which method I use when writing.

(Edit: My third blog post is also up today! I called it 'Music While You Work' but it has been renamed 'What music do you write to?', which explains the post much better. Hope you enjoy!)

It would be absolutely wonderful if you could leave me a comment over there – I’ll reply to all. Come and say hi!

Here is the link to the Pantsers and Plotters post (and picture of me – yikes!)

Here is the link to the What music do you write to? post

Hooray - happy sunny Thursday to you! Have a picture of my cat Abigail laying claim to a tissue box. That one paw means business.

Edit: Thank you to everyone who left a comment! Much appreciated.

Classic cars

2011-05-29T20:04:00.014+01:00

Every May bank holiday, classic cars purr and roar into town for a pageant. This year, although there were other cars there, the spotlight was on America in the 1950s – think Cadillac; think Thunderbird and Mustang; think Giant Beasts of Power. I donned my best rock-out fifties swirl dress (in my head only as it was bloody freezing) and set off to admire the chrome.

I've decided 'just roam in your chrome' might be my new favourite saying in times of stress, replacing the usual coping tactic of quoting dodgy lines from the film Predator.

I was also over-excited to realise that 'hydra-matic' is a real word, and not just made up to rhyme with 'automatic' by the film Grease. But what is a hydra-matic drive? Is it one stage better than a dramatic drive? Is it somehow powered by hydrogen? Is it... *runs to google*... Ah. Automatic transmission. That was the next thing I was going to guess, of course...

At these events I nearly always get stopped by somebody (local press, organisers, old blokes with beards) who will tell me that it's quite unusual for a girl to be into classic cars. It’s true - you don't often see females wandering around admiring the dashboards. But they are so pretty!

It's the shapes, the styles, the throaty roar of engines – all the glamour and romance of an era long-past. For me this is the attraction with classic cars – these vehicles tell stories.

I am also rather fond of pondering over which classic car best suits a wicker picnic basket. I've now decided it may be this E-type Jag. Let's see it from the front...

Yup, that wins my Wicker Picnic Basket medal for this year. I bet the owner is well pleased. What better accolade could there be?

The other car that caught my eye was this bad boy below. Just what on earth is it? And where can I drive one? :)

Z is for... Zachariah

2011-05-27T10:38:00.010+01:00

We come to the end of this A-Z challenge with a look at the apocalyptic novel Z for Zachariah. I remember reading this book at school - the premise is as haunting as it is simple. At the end of a nuclear war, sixteen-year old Ann Burden lives alone in a valley that has escaped contamination. She thinks she is the only person left alive in the world until one day a man appears in a radiation protection suit on the ridge of the valley. The initial euphoria of knowing she is not alone is soon replaced by fear of his intentions.

The protagonist is well-named, as the burden she carries is heavy. The realities of living in a destroyed world, of being the last one left, are well imagined, to the point where you can almost hear the lonely echo as she speaks. In a way this is a twisted version of Adam and Eve, and it is very frightening in places, as the Garden of Eden, the valley, is already poisoned.

There is a crumb of hope buried in this novel, much as the subject matter is bleak. It is the sort of story that stays with you long after the book is back on the shelf, and as such is a fitting end for this challenge. I hope you have enjoyed the posts – normal service will resume shortly!

Z for Zachariah
Published: 1973
Author: Robert C. O'Brien

End fact one: The A-Z post to attract the most comments (72) was, unsurprisingly, the first one, A is for Alice.

End fact two: I've loved every single one of your comments through this challenge. Thank you for sharing your reading memories and anecdotes along the way. Did I miss any of your favourites?

End fact three: U, X, and Y were the hardest - couldn't think of any characters from children's fiction whose name began with those letters.

End fact four: I really enjoyed writing the posts for this challenge but real life just parked itself in the way of finishing in April.

End fact five: Welcome to all new folk who came here via the challenge! I look forward to visiting over at your blogs very soon.

Y is for...Why do adults like children’s books?

2011-05-25T17:37:00.004+01:00

We may be older than the target audience, but age should never be a barrier for enjoying and appreciating good stories. Picture books, mid-grade, and young adult – the world teems with fantastic children’s fiction, and it's a shame to feel excluded by the amount of candles on a birthday cake. I am equally comfortable reading books by Evelyn Waugh and by Mary Norton on the tube, although get far more looks when seen with the latter.

I adore children’s picture books because I adore illustration. I’ve always enjoyed pictures that tell a story, or tell more of the story than the words beside it. There can be several layers of understanding within a tale, and this can be shown by the illustrations. Children may laugh at the picture of an octopus doing the washing up; adults might laugh at the bottle named ‘Sud Off’.

My love for picture books as an adult seems split between nostalgic memories and darker tales. For the former I enjoy books like The Church Mice by Graham Oakley and Brambly Hedge by Jill Barklem. For the latter it would be The Wolves in the Walls by Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean, A Dark Dark Tale by Ruth Brown, or The Rabbits by Shaun Tan. I love the medium of picture books – especially the ones that treat children as intelligent beings who can grasp concepts, as well as understanding their humour. Now I am thinking of any book by Lauren Child – they are a perfect mix of fun language and brilliant illustrations. Even better, the author really knows her audience.

I also love reading and re-reading older children’s books. I collect classic Puffin titles, and enjoy escaping occasionally back into that world. Children’s books by their very nature are often seen as ‘light’ reads, yet they can be just as hard hitting as their adult counterparts. There is also a pleasing nostalgic element to some children’s books, which appeals to me. More importantly, some of them are just pure fun!

Do you still read children’s books? If so, which ones? Why do you like them?

X is for... ‘X’ marks the spot

2011-05-22T10:26:00.006+01:00

Since I cannot think of a children’s character beginning with ‘X’, let’s look instead at something else that often crops up in children’s stories – the search for hidden treasure!

The idea of a marked treasure map was made popular in Robert Louis Stevenson’s book Treasure Island, published in 1883, but he wasn’t the first author to play with this concept. Thirty-four years earlier James Fenimore Cooper’s novel, The Sea Lions, begins with the death of a sailor who leaves behind ‘two old, dirty and ragged charts’, which lead to a location in the West Indies where pirates have buried treasure.

There were, however, some limitations to finding treasure in these early books. It would be helpful to be acquainted with a pirate, and to be ready to set sail on a schooner at the earliest convenience. Even to be on talking terms with a parrot would be an advantage. Luckily the Famous Five came along to show us it was perfectly possible to find treasure closer to home, although you still needed your own island.

In Enid Blyton’s Five on a Treasure Island, published in 1942, the story revolves around Julian, Dick, George and Anne finding a treasure map with the word ‘ingots’ (gold) marked by a red ‘x’. Luckily the map is of an island owned by George’s family, but before they can search for the treasure they hear the island is to be sold, resulting in a race against time.

The idea of marked maps or a code revealing the way to unknown treasure is very powerful. It crops up in adventure films (The Goonies; Indianna Jones) and books time and time again. However the skill is finding a new way to tell the story!

Treasure Island
Published: 1883
Author: Robert Louis Stevenson

Treasure fact one: I used to love making maps of fictional islands.

Treasure fact two: I also made a map of my house detailing squeaky floorboards so I’d know where not to tread when creeping downstairs early in the morning to look at Christmas presents.

Treasure fact three: I used to bury ‘treasure’ in the garden for my dolls to find. I swear some of it is still missing.

Treasure fact four: When my mum and dad moved to our house in the sixties they found a fencing sword behind the coal shed.

Treasure fact five: A recent treasure find was an old horse-shoe when I went for a walk near Glastonbury. I felt very lucky indeed!

W is for... Wombles

2011-05-19T13:11:00.004+01:00

I’ve written before about Elisabeth Beresford and her Wombles but no alphabetical list of my favourite characters from children’s literature would be complete without these early eco-warriors from London’s Wimbledon Common.

Has anyone ever been womble-searching? It’s on my list of things to do (that and find Narnia in Hampstead Heath.) A quick look at the Wimbledon Common website and it seems I’m not the only one who harbours hopes of finding a womble – they currently have an advert saying ‘Wombles needed!’ – but this is a cunningly worded appeal for folk to help collect litter.

Why did I like wombles so much? They are very much Londoners – the books reference places such as Hyde Park, the Serpentine, and Fortnum and Mason. Womble names, chosen at random from a map of the world, are interesting to pronounce. They collect rubbish and renew it in some way to make it magical. They have a philosophical nature and saw the good in people. Most importantly, they are part of a hidden world. My favourite chapter in the books was the one about the lonely elderly gentleman who bumped into Great Uncle Bulgaria one Christmas Eve. He was invited back to the burrow for a party and ended up thinking life wasn’t so bad after all.

Not only that, but the TV show had the best theme tune!

The Wombles (first of five titles)
Published: 1968
Author: Elisabeth Beresford

Storing fact one: I’m a hoarder who has had to curb her natural hoarding habits and try and live a bit more sensibly. For now (bwahahaha...)

Recycling fact two: I was the sort of child who always wanted empty tubs and cereal packets so I could make things.

Renewing fact three: I used to make walkie talkies from yoghurt pots and telescopes from toilet rolls. I was convinced that they worked.

Collecting fact four: I used to collect an awful lot of strange things – buttons, badges, beads, erasers, key-rings, tips of coloured lead pencils (they looked pretty in a tin!), and stickers.

Collecting fact five: Favourite stickers to collect were Garbage Pail kids, which always smelt slightly like the rubbish bubble gum that also came in the pack.

V is for…Vermicious Knids

2011-05-15T18:43:00.005+01:00

You’ve got to hand it to Roald Dahl. (And what is the ‘it’ that we hand over in that sentence? A drink, a medal, a dirty sock? Let’s go with medal.) Only Roald Dahl, that wonderful wordsmith, could come up with baddies called Vermicious Knids, and make them sound somewhat like a giant, horribly 'aware', poo:

‘It looked like an enormous egg balanced on its pointed end. It was as tall as a big boy and wider than the fattest man. The greenish-brown skin had a shiny wettish appearance and there were wrinkles in it…

…The eyes were everything. There were no other features, no nose or mouth or ears, but the entire egg-shaped body was itself moving very very slightly, pulsing and bulging gently here and there as though the skin were filled with some thick fluid.’

Nice. Way to go, Mr Dahl. I’ve just been put off my chocolate mini roll. Bleegh.

The Vermicious Knids (pronounced K’nids) are some of the horrors facing Charlie and his friends travelling in the Great Glass Elevator. This is the sequel to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and as a child I enjoyed it more – probably due to the horrible sounding Knids – although there is much strange silliness going on throughout the story. It also was a lot darker a tale. The idea of Minusland, where people drifted around in ghostly mist waiting to be born (made into a plus), was frankly terrifying.

We’re not quite told how Vermicious Knids kill their victims. Willy Wonka gives us a lot of hyperbole about what they can do (rasp people into a thousand tiny bits! Grate you like cheese! Stretch out its neck and bite off your head!) but Grandma Georgina correctly questions how it can bite anything, since all it has are eyes.

However I knew. I knew exactly what Vermicious Knids would do. They’d squoosh you to death! They’d sit, squash and suffocate you in seconds! (It appears his hyperbole is catching.) Although it is thoughtful of them to spell out the word ‘scram’ first.

Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator
Published: 1973
Author: Roald Dahl
Illustrator: Faith Jacques
Editor: Kaye Webb

Vermicious fact one: Although I loved Dr Seuss books, I found his world quite scary too, especially those manic oh-so-intent swished little creatures.

Vermicious fact two: The scariest book I owned was one about true life ghost stories. I have no idea where I got it from; I think I picked it up in a jumble sale when I was 13. Oh My. I gave it to a friend on the pretext that she’d like it, and then kept ‘forgetting’ to take it home with me.

Vermicious fact three: Not as scary, but still pretty damn close, were the Armada Ghost books. Yikes! These were spooky little short story anthologies designed to give children sleepless nights.

Vermicious fact four: I wasn’t that keen on ‘The Groke’ from the Moomin books.

Vermicious fact five: I always ended up being eaten by a Minotaur in ‘choose your own adventure’ books.

U is for...You

2011-05-10T22:59:00.005+01:00

Yes, gone for the phonetic get-out clause for the letter 'U'. Try as I might; rack my brains as I did; I just couldn't think of a children's fictional character that began with 'U'. I am probably missing hundreds of famous Una's and Unwin's, but my work-addled brain can't think of them.

This poor A-Z challenge. You see, I can't stop now. If I stop then my side bar gets muddled. I feel like I am one of those people you see struggling through the London Marathon (26 miles or so), dressed as armour-clad knight, doing their bit for the challenge but in their own time. And which media luvvie nicknamed these folk 'fun' runners? Have they tried running marathons for charity dressed as a lumbering dinosaur, London bus, or errant knight? Calling these brave hardy souls 'fun-runners' makes their contribution seem a little less, when struggling around a course with actual equipment is an amazing feat and should be lauded from the sky.

But the point of this post, apart from having a chat with you, as it feels so long since we've had a chat, you and I - is the You part. Firstly for being here, reading this blog. When I started blogging I was confessing my writing fears to the wind. I didn't know, for a very long time, how to find others, and what to do when I did. Commenting seemed a big step. I like to read blogs, and I think of you all massively when I don't get around to visiting. Sometimes life just swells... not because of interesting, exciting things, but because of mundane boring things that pay the bills. C'est la vie, eh?

Agh - see how much I have missed chatting to you! I have gone wildly off target. But the point of this post is I wanted to ask you a question...

Over to you

What books did you read as children? Did you haunt libraries, like me? What books do your children like? Do you write for children - if so, what age? Do you write Young Adult books, and if so, who is your favourite contemporary YA children's author?

T is for...The Turbulent Term of Tyke Tiler

2011-05-08T09:11:00.004+01:00

When I was ten I had a lovely teacher who really encouraged reading and creativity. We had a reading list of books that actually sounded interesting – there was Tyke Tiler, Stig of the Dump, Ghosts in the Attic (The Dollhouse Murders) - many different books to hook our imagination.

The author Gene Kemp uses a first-person narrative so we can see exactly what the protagonist, Tyke, sees. Tyke is a fearless twelve-year old who often gets into trouble, although never means things to turn out quite the way they do. It looks at life and the situations during the final year at Cricklepit Combined School, and is a very humorous, realistic (for the time) slice of life. It was the first book I read that had a swear word in it (git!). I remember dreading my turn to read a chapter aloud to the class (and secretly really wanting to!) in case the chapter picked was the one that had the naughty word.

The best thing about the book is the twist at the end – it is very unexpected, but at the same time, it really shouldn’t be – and the very reason why it is unexpected is worth exploring. Definitely a book to make a class think.

The Turbulent term of Tyke Tiler
Published: 1977
Author: Gene Kemp

Turbulent fact one: Every plane I have been on is turbulent around meal-times.

Turbulent fact two: The quickest way to make me ill is to sit me at the back of the car and drive around roundabouts in heavy traffic on a hot day.

Turbulent fact three: I was such a bad car traveller when I was little that my dad and brother would drive ahead with all the luggage and me and mum would have to get the train.

Turbulent fact four: The worst boat ride I’ve ever been on was a ferry from Guernsey. Everyone suffered!

Turbulent fact five: Not surprisingly - I love trains (especially the vintage steam train from Swanage to Corfe Castle). No turbulence to be found!

S is for... Slinky Malinki

2011-05-06T12:34:00.003+01:00

Slinky Malinki is a cat – a bold fearless adventurous cat – who can open doors and steal slippers. He is brought to life by New Zealand’s bestselling children’s author / artist Lynley Dodd, as part of a series of brilliantly rhyming picture books which also includes Hairy Maclary (from Donaldson’s Dairy).

Wonderful names and brilliant rhymes abound throughout Lynley Dodd’s work – you can sense a real joy behind her use of language – and this gives the reader, whether child or adult, the same happiness. She plays with words in the same vein as Dr Seuss but sets them in reality – so the stories take everyday situations and inject them with a bit of rhyming magic. Her illustrations of cats and dogs are beautifully realised – scrappy dogs, sniffing dogs, slinking cats, superior cats.

As for Slinky Malinki – I love the name so much! Every cat owner knows a Slinky Malinki, just as I’m sure every dog owner knows a Hairy Maclary.

Slinky Malinki (but the author has written many other books)
Author / Artist: Dame Lynley Dodd
Published: This book published in 1990

Illustration fact one: Shirley Hughes, creator of Alfie and Moving Molly, is my favourite children’s illustrator. Her characters expressions are perfect; their clothes and surroundings wonderful.

Illustration fact two: Other favourite illustrators include Edward Ardizzone, Arthur Rackham, Ruth Brown, Graham Oakley, Jill Barklem, Shaun Tan, Dave McKean, Lauren Child, Jason Cockcroft.

Illustration fact three: I’m a BA (Hons), with a degree in Two-dimensional design (focusing on illustration). I have held three exhibitions of my work. My style is mixed media, main influence German expressionism.

Illustration fact four: I love and adore illustration and will often buy books purely based on either the illustrations or cover art. I can recognise the style of my favourite illustrators from ten paces.

Illustration fact five: I used to have a stall on a farmer’s market selling my hand-made cards and illustrations (and a shop in Shoreditch). I still remember how happy I was when I sold my first print - it was of the Louvre in Paris, and the person who bought it said it would be a birthday present for her sister. I hope she liked it!

R is for... Rupert Bear

2011-05-03T19:11:00.005+01:00

Rupert began life as a newspaper’s marketing ploy in order to win readers from a rival. He first appeared in the pages of the Daily Express in 1920, and today can be found on an interactive website; a CGI-animated television series, and a seemingly limitless collection of merchandise. Not bad for a 91-year old bear!

One secret to Rupert’s success could be down to his creators realising that an annual, promoting both him and the paper, could come out every Christmas and be collected. This tradition began in 1936...and continues to this day. The annual I remember most was the one celebrating 1971 (pictured), which, given the year, must have been my brother's, and later found its way to me. I recall there was a story about some magical seaweed on a beach, and some weird gold gnomes that popped up in the bushes. The illustrations were incredibly detailed, especially the endpapers, and I could stare at them for hours, making up my own adventures.

I remember begging my mum for the video of Rupert and the Frog Song – which was an animated cartoon feature by Sir Paul McCartney that promoted his 1984 song ‘We All Stand Together’. That Christmas I was a happy girl – can’t say the same for the rest of the family who had to listen to it over and over again. Let’s sing the grand finish – ‘We all. Stand. TOGETHER!’

Rupert Bear
Published: 1920 onwards
Author and Illustrator: Mary Tourtel, Alfred Bestall (and many others)

Annual fact one: I’d always get an annual for Christmas (an annual being a collection of stories in a hard-cover, for anyone unfamiliar).

Annual fact two: A Christmas day annual was full of fun. A Boxing Day annual would be an encyclopaedia, dictionary, or the Guinness Book of Records.

Annual fact three: I always received a Mandy annual without fail. This is because (whispers) Mandy is my real name. Sh! It’s an un-secret.

Annual fact four: Other annuals would be Mr Men, Jem (Sings: She’s truly outrageous! Truly, truly, truly outrageous!), Beano, and Whizzer and Chips.

Annual fact five: I often buy my friends annuals at Christmas from retro fairs as I think it’s just not Christmas without one. This means nearly all of them have random annuals poking out of their bookcase thanks to me. Hee! They love me really.

Q is for… Quimby, Ramona

2011-04-30T18:58:00.006+01:00

That’s a nifty get-around for the letter ‘Q’ isn’t it? As a child, I adored the Ramona series by Beverly Cleary. One of the pleasures of the books for me, growing up in England, was reading and puzzling out ‘exotic’ words like ‘kindergarten’, ‘sidewalk’, ‘steam shovels’, and ‘locomotives’. But the main draw was the character of Ramona herself – Beverly Cleary completely nails the way children act and think – and so Ramona becomes universal, much loved by all.

One of the things I liked about Ramona was her imagination, and how events that seemed logical to her completely baffled grown-ups. This appealed to me as I was always getting into similar misunderstandings with the adults in my life, who simply didn’t understand the way I played. Such as I used to pretend the stairs was a waterfall, and a favourite game was sending dolls to rescue one-another from the ‘rapids’. I used to tie them to the banisters (in order so they wouldn’t get swept away) and the only way to tie them securely was around their neck. In my world they were just holding on to the ropes while they did another daring rescue; in my parent’s world it looked like I was staging a doll mass-murder by hanging. So I fully sympathised with and understood Ramona’s behaviour.

It is amazing to think that the first book featuring Ramona (Beezus and Ramona) was published in 1955, and the last one (Ramona’s World) was published in 1999. Over forty years, and still Ramona is going strong. The illustrations play a big part in this - the earlier ones especially, like the one below by Louis Darling, capture expressions and emotions so well. He was also brilliant at showing movement.

The Ramona Series
Published: 1955 - 1999
Author: Beverly Cleary
Illustrator for pictured: Louis Darling (left), Thelma Lambert (top)

Imaginative fact one: I used to practice flying by jumping from my cupboard onto my bed, flapping my arms.

Imaginative fact two: One of my favourite games as a child was playing ‘libraries’, piling my books up on the stairs.

Imaginative fact three: I also used to build ‘tree’-houses on the stairs; each step was a different room. My family weren't impressed.

Imaginative fact four: Another much-loved game was sitting in a cardboard box on the lawn and pretending I was in a boat crossing the sea.

Imaginative fact five: I was mad keen on pretending to be a spy, and would practice quickly changing my clothes or appearance, and cutting holes out of newspapers to watch my mum cooking dinner. The only problem was that casually hanging around the kitchen, pretending to read the newspaper, and wearing a false moustache, was quite conspicuous behaviour for a spy – especially when you are a girl aged seven.

P is for… Peter Pan

2011-04-24T20:56:00.004+01:00

I always felt there was something slightly sinister about the story of Peter, the boy who wouldn’t grow up. I didn’t like the idea of someone slinking in through the open nursery window, or the thought of being whisked away to Neverland. To me, Neverland is just as alarming as Alice’s Wonderland; fantastical places that border just a little too close to crazy.

The clue to Peter’s nature is in his surname. By using the name ‘Pan’, J.M. Barrie draws comparisons with the wild Greek God who roamed fields and woodland playing music. Peter is the fearless (and somewhat boastful) leader of the Lost Boys – children who for many different reasons were lost on earth and so joined Peter to play forever in Neverland.

J.M. Barrie came up with the story after the tragic death of his brother aged thirteen; especially drawing inspiration from the small measure of comfort his mother got from knowing her son would remain a boy forever. I think that is the problem for me with Peter Pan. The idea of death just looms all over Neverland – no matter how it is dressed up with pirates and adventure – there is a haunting sadness at its root that I find impossible to leave behind.

The Little White Bird (Published: 1901)
Peter Pan; or, the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up (Published: 1904)
Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens (Published: 1906)
Peter and Wendy (Published: 1911)
Author: J.M. Barrie
Illustrator for Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens: Arthur Rackham (see left)

Peter fact one: The Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens is well worth finding.

Peter fact two: The author commissioned the statue to be made for May 1st 1912, and instead of a public unveiling, placed an announcement in The Times to say there was a surprise for children to be found that day in Kensington Gardens.

Peter fact three: In 1929 J.M Barrie presented the copyright for Peter Pan to the London children’s hospital Great Ormond Street.

Peter fact four: My nephew’s favourite film for years was the Robin Williams film based on Peter Pan - ‘Hook’. We must have watched it a gadzillion times until he tired of it. I was almost word-perfect, put it that way.

Peter fact five: Captain Hook is often thought of as childish in his fear of the crocodile. Considering the crocodile wants to eat him - I think his fear is justified!

O is for… Oliver Twist

2011-04-23T09:45:00.006+01:00

In Dickens’ tale of debauched London, Oliver’s fortunes plunge to the depths and are raised to the heights of society so many times it’s a wonder he doesn’t suffer the bends. The story of Oliver Twist is a Victorian Disney, a 19th century fairy-tale where our hero manages to keep his kind heart despite all the misfortune laden upon him, and who is, ultimately, rewarded.

The great thing about any Dickens novel is the cast of larger-than-life supporting characters. In Oliver we get the tricksy organiser of street crime, Fagan; his head boy, the Artful Dodger; villain-through-and-through, Bill Sikes; the tart with a heart, Nancy; indeed a whole host of memorable personalities troop through the pages. Dickens also likes to hold a mirror to humanity; he was a great observer of life around him. We get his obvious distaste for England’s Poor Laws of the time - laws that effectively meant, for someone like Oliver, that the workhouse, a criminal gang, prison or an early death are his only options. No wonder so many people took to drink – what else was there? A short life but a merry one, was no doubt the thinking behind the gin glass.

Oliver Twist; or the Parish Boy's Progress
Published: 1837 as a series, 1838 as a novel.
Author: Charles Dickens
Illustrator: George Cruikshank

London history fact one: The Geffrye museum in Shoreditch decorates each room to a different period in history – weird to see the later years and spot your parent’s furniture!
London history fact two: One of my favourite odd museums is the Herb Garret and Old Operating Theatre. It’s a wonder anyone ever lived.
London history fact three: One of the best things to do to get acquainted with London history is to go on a walking tour, such as this one about Jack the Ripper.
London history fact four: You can date pubs from whether they have tiled walls outside… it’s where the phrase ‘pissing money up a wall’ comes from.
London history fact five: Petticoat Lane Market is so called because it sold petticoats. The authorities tried to change its name to Middlesex Street Market, but the public preferred the nickname Petticoat, and that’s how it stayed!

N is for...Nancy Drew

2011-04-19T18:05:00.006+01:00

Nancy Drew is rich, lives in a gorgeous town, drives a convertible, has a super smart boyfriend, is athletic, brainy and pretty, has good friends – and solves impossible crimes. If she had just one flaw then you could sort of imagine she is human, but flaws are not part of Nancy’s world. Her life is rather glossy, but that is half the fun.

The books all had brilliant titles that couldn’t fail to capture the interest of mystery readers - The Hidden Staircase; The Sign of the Twisted Candles; The Clue in the Crumbling Wall; The Secret of the Forgotten Cave. I remember reading The Secret of Mirror Bay, which I think I originally picked up because of the cover art. Sadly I discovered Nancy Drew just as my reading tastes changed and so only read a few of the books. If I had been a few years younger I probably would have loved the series!

Although researching this post has made me want to seek out the earlier books for the fantastic covers - beautifully stylish illustrations.

Nancy Drew series
Published between: 1930... and still going, in many reincarnations.
Author: Credited to Carolyn Keene, a pseudonym that covered a syndicate of writers.

My day in mystery titles one: The Strange Case of Jayne and the On-Time Train
My day in mystery titles two: The Riddle of the Girl in the Green Polka-dot Dress
My day in mystery titles three: The Mystery of The Empty Cake Plate in the Office
My day in mystery titles four: The Hidden Dance Class in Baker Street
My day in mystery titles five: The Secret of the Late A to Z Blog Post

M is for… Minty from Moondial

2011-04-16T22:21:00.003+01:00

It is amazing how many children’s book characters have names that start with ‘M’. So many I could have chosen - Milly Molly Mandy is probably my ultimate ‘M’ but I have written about her before, so I’d decided upon Mildred Hubble, of Jill Murphy’s Worst Witch fame. But then today I found Helen Cresswell’s book ‘Moondial’ while our book-hunting, and remembered Minty…

Ah Moondial. The book was dramatised into a brilliantly spooky television series of the same name, shown in the UK in the late 80s. Atmospheric and haunting – the story revolves around teenager Araminta Cane (Minty), who is sent to stay with an aunt when her mother is seriously ill in hospital. The aunt lives in the long shadow of a stately home, and in its grounds Minty discovers a sundial which has the power to send her into the past. Stronger at night – she realises it is actually a moondial, and if she can work out the right way to use it then maybe she can free two children trapped centuries before, and even help her own mother.

Minty is brave, resourceful, and deals with things on her own, even big things like grief. She also has a good line in witty asides. I’m so happy to have found the book. If you have time, see below for a glimpse of the television series – the whole thing is on youtube, and it really is brilliant – perfect cast, perfect music score, and deliciously dark and unsettling, even 23 years later.

Moondial
Published: 1987
Author: Helen Cresswell

Spooky fact one: I rather like cemeteries, especially old ones like Highgate. I find them peaceful and interesting.
Spooky fact two: When I studied art and photography, an awful lot of my projects were based in cemeteries, come to think about it.
Spooky fact three: I dressed up in Pre-Raphaelite style dresses to do a gothic horror photo story in the local stately home for my art ‘A’ level.
Spooky fact four: The first horror film I watched was A Nightmare on Elm Street when I was eleven. My older friend wouldn’t let me hide behind a cushion and I had nightmares for weeks – was too scared to sleep!
Spooky fact five: My worst nightmares when I was a little child featured the Smash Makes Mash robots and the green-armed ghost in the credits of Scooby Doo.

L is for… Lucy

2011-04-15T22:37:00.004+01:00

Lucy Pevensie from the Narnia books seems to take everything in her stride. A magical winter wonderland at the back of a wardrobe? Fine, I’ll borrow a fur coat. A talking faun? Sure, let’s have tea. She is utterly unfazed by the most magical things, and for that I can well believe her later nickname of ‘valiant’.

Lucy is the youngest of four, and she is the last to be believed, the first to be doubted. I shared her frustration, being the youngest in my own family, and so identified strongly with Lucy, to the point where I once crossed her name out of the book and put my own. Yikes - what a confession for a book-lover! The other reason I wanted to be Lucy was because she was the closest to Aslan, who I pictured in my head as a giant cat.

Lucy was the reason that I spent an inordinate amount of time sitting in my wardrobe when I was a child, although I was more likely to find a spider than Mr Tumnus.

The Chronicles of Narnia
Published: Between 1949 and 1954
Author: C.S. Lewis
Original illustrator: Pauline Baynes

Valiant fact one: I have been winched down a manhole to explore London’s lost underground rivers.
Valiant fact two: I used to read my brother’s ‘Valiant’ annuals on the sly – these were boy’s adventure type tales.
Valiant fact three: I’ve been up in a helicopter (which is brave as I’m not fond of heights!)
Valiant fact four: I do one extreme sport - snowboarding.
Valiant fact five: I’m okay with spiders as long as they don’t come anywhere near me.

K is for... Katy Carr

2011-04-13T09:17:00.001+01:00

Katy Carr is the protagonist of What Katy Did, and what Katy did was to become impossibly good after an injury falling from a swing. And when I say 'impossibly good' - I mean practically a saint. Still, you can’t help but like her.

The book was written in 1872 – at a time when a Victorian woman’s place was very much at home, and her aspirations should never rise higher than motherhood and being able to manage a household. The story of Katy is almost a warning to high-spirited girls, and a lesson in how to behave. Despite that, it’s a warm-hearted read, and gives an insight to how society treated invalids, and what life was like in that era, living in a small Midwestern town.

What Katy Did
Published: 1872
Author: Susan Coolidge

Home fact one: I’ve lived in nine different places.
Home fact two: Furthest afield was Hatfield in Hertfordshire.
Home fact three: Furthest into London was Newington Green in Islington.
Home fact four: Tiniest place was definitely the magnolia breezeblock I called home when I was a student.
Home fact five: Every job I have had seems to be approximately the other side of London to where I live. I am known as Commute Girl.

J is for… James and the Giant Peach

2011-04-12T22:49:00.003+01:00

Poor James. A rhino kills his mum and dad and he is sent to live with his repulsive aunts at the top of a lonely hill. Just when life can’t get any worse, a dropped packet of magical crocodile tongues make the tree in the garden spout a gigantic peach, which is where the fun begins.

There is something so delightfully wicked about Roald Dahl’s books. We rejoice when the baddies come to a sticky end – what could be stickier than being squashed to death by a giant peach? Be gone repulsive aunts! Not everyone feels the same though – the book is number 56 on the ‘100 Most Frequently Challenged Books: 1990–2000’ according to the American Library Association. I find it hard to believe people seriously object to this book – enough for it to make a list. I guess Grimm Fairy Tales would probably be off the menu for those folks.

The only objection I have to the book is that I always thought the giant peach looked like a giant bottom. See what I mean?

James and the Giant Peach
Published: 1961
Author: Roald Dahl
Illustrator: Nancy Ekholm Burkert

Fruity fact one: I love blackberry picking in autumn.
Fruity fact two: Banana milkshake rocks my socks.
Fruity fact three: I once scrumped apples. They were wormy and horrible.
Fruity fact four: Segments of orange go lovely with smoked salmon fillets.
Fruity fact five: Strawberries and grapes are nice in salads.

I is for...Ishbel Anderson

2011-04-11T10:55:00.005+01:00

Ishbel Anderson is a best friend of Rebecca Mason, the protagonist from boarding school series Trebizon. If you were a fan of Malory Towers and St Clare’s, then it is highly possible you would have graduated to the Trebizon books.

The best book of the series in my opinion is the first (pictured). Rebecca arrives in the second year to find everyone established, and longs to make her mark by writing something for the school magazine. Her love of creative writing combined with the school setting – leafy oak trees, sandy beaches – made this book a winner for me. It also introduced me to the poetic works of Emily Dickinson. Later books focused more on Rebecca’s sport than her writing, but the characters are engaging enough to keep you with them.

I especially liked Ishbel (Tish) for her positive attitude to life and sense of fun. I also enjoyed mentions of an older girl, Pippa, as she is an artist and a very reflective character, one who already feels the nostalgia of her passing school days.

Trebizon series
Published: 1978 – 1994
Author: Anne Digby

Sporty fact one: I studied gymnastics for eight years, enjoying it very much. Favourite equipment was the asymmetric bars. Least favourite was that awful beam!
Sporty fact two: After reading Trebizon books I used to pretend I was part of a tennis club, hitting a ball up a wall for hours on end. I invented different players, drew match timetables, and probably looked a little mad.
Sporty fact three: When I was eleven I ran a gymnastics class after-school for younger girls, teaching them the basics.
Sporty fact four: I was on the netball team in junior school, and usually played Wing Attack.
Sporty fact five: I loved rounders (a form of baseball, maybe?) and used to enjoy running like lightening around the bases, especially whacking the ball as far as I could get it!

H is for… Harry Potter

2011-04-10T20:52:00.005+01:00

Does this character need an introduction? I'll attempt one anyway.

Harry Potter is an amazingly successful series of books that capture the imagination of children and adults alike. The idea was thought up by author JK Rowling when she was delayed for four hours on a train. Considering the resulting phenomenon that swept the world, gave hundreds of people employment on film sets, launched acting careers, and brought people back to reading - I can only conclude that sometimes it is good when British transport breaks down. You'll probably never hear me being that kind to our transport system ever again.

Harry Potter and the... x 7
Published: 1997 - 2007
Author: J K Rowling

Pottering fact one: To celebrate the launch of one of the books the local shopping centre had owl demonstrations. That was rather cool.
Pottering fact two: I love the word ‘pottering’. To potter around the garden is to do nothing functional – it is to tweak and dally to the heart’s content.
Pottering fact three: Today I pottered around a vintage fair, dallied to my heart’s content, and then decided my heart would be happiest if I bought a 1940s tea dress.
Pottering fact four: I also pottered around the Chelsea Physic Garden and saw herbs that could ‘quell the coldeth and quash the cougheth.’ In old English, it seems every ailment basically has the letters ‘eth’ after it.
Pottering fact five: Am so tired. This post almost didn’t make it!

G is for...Gobbolino, the Witch’s Cat

2011-04-08T10:40:00.006+01:00

Gobbolino is born a witch’s cat, but all he wants from life is to be a humble kitchen tabby. Unlike his clever sister Sootica, he gets muddled with spells and hates tricking people. He sets out on his own to find a family who will love him for himself, not for his magical background.

I cried buckets over Gobbolino. All he wants is to be loved. In a way he reminds me of the dog in the television show The Littlest Hobo – oh that haunting theme tune! Gobbolino tries to do good at every turn but he is either exploited or abandoned, and yet each time he picks himself up determined to follow his dream.

The book is populated with lovely black and white illustrations and is a very sweet read for children... even adults!

Gobbolino, the Witch’s Cat
Published: 1942
Author: Ursula Moray Williams

Magical fact one: I can never work out how magicians do tricks (and never want to!)
Magical fact two: My dad’s sleight of hand party trick was to make it look like he had pulled off the top of his thumb – impressed me every time!
Magical fact three: He also used to do Eric Morecombe’s trick of catching an invisible ball in a paper bag.
Magical fact four: My mum can do a magic trick with cards – no matter how you shuffle them, she can lay them out in their correct order.
Magical fact five: I got an Abracadabra magic set for my tenth birthday. Couldn’t do a single thing with it.

A-Z Highlights for 'G'
Ellen Brickley at Pink Tea and Paper talks about Germany
Talei Loto at Musings of an Aspiring Scribe posts about writing in the Garden
Myne Whitman talks about the lovely and useful website Goodreads

F is for... Famous Five

2011-04-07T11:22:00.008+01:00

The Famous Five consisted of Julian, Dick, George, Anne, and Timmy the dog. They ate smashing picnics, went off on their own, and had amazing adventures that resulted in lost treasure being found, baddies being delivered to policemen, and no one ever getting hurt.

The characters are rather two-dimensional, and their personality hangs off the attributes Enid Blyton has given them - Julian is dependable and authoritative, Dick is impulsive and rash, George is stubborn and independent, Anne is quiet and gentle. They are rarely allowed to act another way – we don’t see Julian as insecure, Dick as cautious, George as needy, Anne as demanding. In this way the characters are very satisfying to young child-readers as they can predict outcomes and ways of behaviour. For older and adult readers, who are not the audience anyway, the characters are less satisfying for the same reason, although the books fulfil a nostalgic pleasure.

When I was little I called my first cat ‘Timmy’ so we could be the Famous Two. Sadly there was a distinct lack of castles, smugglers, caves, well-spoken apologetic baddies, islands, and gypsy caravans for us to make a real good go at things. Still, we solved the Mystery of the Missing Sock, so there’s some vindication.

I still have all my Famous Five books and love to occasionally dip back into those days, back to when the sun was always shining, and mysteries were around every corner... or, in the case of the Missing Sock, in every drawer.

The Famous Five
Published: 1942 – 1962
Author: Enid Blyton
Illustrator: Eileen Soper

Famous fact one: I used to interview celebrities
Famous fact two: Favourite actor interviews were with Will Smith, Josh Hartnett and Ryan Reynolds.
Famous fact three: Favourite music interviews were with Bananarama, Level 42, and Marti Pellow
Famous fact four: Favourite author/artist interviews were with Martin and Tanis Jordan, Jason Cockcroft, and Jill Barklem
Famous fact five: I also used to make costumes for West End musicals, including The Lion King and Phantom of the Opera

Three A-Z Highlights for 'F'
Katie Mills at Creepy Query Girl posts about the Family at Creepy Manor
Our lovely instigator, Arlee Bird at Tossing it Out, posts about a Faraway Friend
Misha at My First Book talks about Fear

E is for... Eeyore

2011-04-06T11:43:00.008+01:00

Eeyore is the ‘grumpy old man’ of donkey-dom, and for that I am rather fond of him. He lives in the southeast corner of Hundred Acre Wood in a place labelled ‘Eeyore’s Gloomy Place – Rather Boggy and Sad’. I suspect if he was a teenager he would paint his walls black, write Poetry Full of Meaning, and listen to Pink Floyd. We’d probably have been friends. In fact, he sounds just like my first boyfriend.

Eeyore is suspicious of merriment and plain old cynical about happiness, but he has a soft heart hidden away under those wary layers. As if to emphasise this, Disney added a pink bow to his tail. He doesn’t expect a lot from anybody, so is therefore pleasantly surprised when his friends show they care. His main worries in life are losing his tail or his home – losing identity and security – so we can understand his concerns and even sympathise. Eeyore is a bit of a glass half empty sort of soul, not the sort of animal easy to strike up a jaunty conversation with, but for all that, he is rather loveable.

The Disney images of Eeyore and chums may be more wide-spread, but the original illustrations, done with such gentle style by E.H Shepard, really seem to capture the heart of the books as well as the melancholy and occasional joy that permeates through Eeyore. As much as I am familiar with the first, it is the latter that sings to my imagination.

Winnie-the-Pooh
Published: 1926
Author: A.A. Milne
Illustrator: E. H Shepard

Grumpy fact one: Waking up two hours before my alarm and then not being able to get back to sleep again.
Grumpy fact two: Stepping in a regurgitated present from the cats.
Grumpy fact three: Delayed trains. In fact, anything to do with commuting usually makes me grumpy.
Grumpy fact four: Drinks that leak in my bag, making everything smell like apple juice.
Grumpy fact five: Not being able to find a pen that works when I want to write down an idea.

Three A-Z Highlights from 'E' and 'D'
Sue at I Refuse To Go Quietly shares a fab clip of the wonderful Gene Kelly dancing on roller-skates, as she posts about Entertainers
Kit at Kit Courteney Writes shares a great story about creating Nurse Daphne Peachbloom
Oak Lawn Images shows some wonderful photos from Edelweiss to Early morning sun

D is for...Darrell Rivers

2011-04-05T10:38:00.007+01:00

I badly wanted to be Darrell Rivers from Malory Towers when I was a kiddie. She had it made – a stable family background, a gorgeous fairy-tale of a school, popular with her peers, respected by teachers, good at sports, and a talent for writing stories. Her one fault is a terrible temper, but even that only appears when she catches someone bullying or being unjust or spiteful. As role models go, she’s not a bad one to adopt.

The thing I liked most about Malory Towers is that the school life depicted was very different to my London comprehensive education. They played lacrosse, had midnight feasts, rode horses, and lived at school. We played truant, stayed up past midnight, rode buses, and lived for home time. It was a world apart, really, which made Enid Blyton’s books so enchanting!

Malory Towers
Published: 1946 – 1951
Author: Enid Blyton

School fact one: In my school the make-shift temporary huts used for some lessons were a health hazard. You had to turn the lights on with a block of wood when it was raining as water ran down the wall!

School fact two: We thought the library at the top of the school was haunted.

School fact three: Any school trip to France ended up with teachers and pupils in a Benny Hill style chase around the ferry.

School fact four: The art room was my favourite place.

School fact five: I once climbed out the bathroom window to have a sneaky ciggie on the roof and the window accidentally closed behind me, leaving me stranded. Never again!

Three A-Z Highlights for 'D'!
Niki over at Wool 'n' Nuts shares pictures of her lovely Dog tucking into Dinner!
Steven Chapman explains about that writer's cop out, the Deus ex machina
Plain Jane talks about Delicious Donuts!

C is for... Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

2011-04-04T12:19:00.005+01:00

Charlie Bucket dreams of a chocolate bar that he doesn’t have to share with his elderly relatives. When growing up I thought the same about the green chocolate triangles in a box of Quality Street, so I feel his pain here. Luckily he wins a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory, along with four other children, and here is where the fun begins.

Willy Wonka is bonkers. A nice bloke, but bonkers all the same. He has devised a test of chocolate-resisting morality to find out which child will inherit his factory. Ye Gods, that’s just fiendish. I like to think my morals are good but when it comes down to morals or chocolate, let’s face it – would I steal a squirrel?

It’s a tough call. However, I don’t like nutty chocolate and I wouldn’t risk the prize for chewing gum, nor would I care to be sent through the air to appear on TV. But the chocolate river in a room full of chocolate and spun sugar flowers? I fear my name might be Jayne Gloop.

The manic energy of Roald Dahl’s writing, and the pleasure he takes in detailing the fate of greedy and selfish children, leaks through to the reader. I like the way he draws attention to the bad behaviour of the parents as well - even as a child you can see that the fate of being turned into a giant blueberry doesn’t just spring from nowhere. But it's the chocolate factory itself, with its secrets, hundreds of rooms, and bedazzling recipes, which is the real star – in a way Charlie, nice and inoffensive as he is, is incidental.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Published: 1964
Author: Roald Dahl
Illustrator: Joseph Schindelman / Quentin Blake

Chocolate fact one: Cadbury’s Twirl bars rock my socks.
Chocolate fact two: Adding fruit or nuts to chocolate is just wrong on all levels
Chocolate fact three: I still go to the corner shop just to buy chocolate.
Chocolate fact four: I don’t like white chocolate – it has to be milk, or plain at a push.
Chocolate fact five: In chocolate selling shops you will generally find me hovering beside the assistant offering free samples.

Three A-Z Highlights for 'C'
The Words Crafter over at The Rainy Day Wanderer blog shares her love of castles
Paula Martin tells us about the importance of critique partners
Margo Kelly chats about a very important 'c' word - chocolate!

B is for...Black Beauty

2011-04-02T10:54:00.006+01:00

Black Beauty is like a Virginia Andrews book about horses. Just when you think Beauty’s life will be happy he is in danger of the knacker’s yard again. (Incidentally, I thought the knacker’s yard was somewhere full of old knickers when I was little, so my first reading of Black Beauty was rather confused, to say the least.)

Beauty is a kindly chap of a horse who, no matter his situation, makes the best of things, and always treats his fellow humans and animals with respect. Are there lessons to be learnt from this? Of course! The book is positively stuffed with lessons, but the story is so compelling that the drip-feed of morality goes un-noticed – that is, until the last chapter is finished and you are outside waving a placard supporting animal rights.

The plight of working horses and the financial hardship faced by their owners is meticulously described through Beauty’s eyes, and the result on publication was a huge wave of concern for animal welfare. This led to several reforms in the law, ending up both beneficial for horses and humans alike. What a fantastic legacy Anna Sewell left us.

Black Beauty
Published: 1877
Author: Anna Sewell

Beautiful fact one: As a child I cried buckets over the fate of Ginger, and drew a picture to tuck in the end pages of the book showing Black Beauty, Ginger, and Merrylegs all happy together in heaven!

Beautiful fact two: I’ve twice been horse-riding (or rather, horse-sitting).

Beautiful fact three: The first time I was aged five and hoisted up on a giant shire horse.

Beautiful fact four: They didn’t fix the saddle properly so I ended up hanging off its tummy for most of the ride until someone noticed.

Beautiful fact five: The board game ‘Buckaroo’ used to scare me silly. Probably still would!

Three A-Z Highlights for 'B'

Ellie Garratt warns us about the perils of Book-Bonking
Eliza at Just Twaddle ponders Boobs and Bras
Madeleine at Scribble and Edit talks about when to introduce a Back story

A is for...Alice

2011-04-01T10:19:00.006+01:00

Alice is a rather curious child with a penchant for white rabbits. The main curiosity for me is how she keeps her blue and white frock spotless as she tumbles down rabbit holes, while my tights get snagged on a gentle walk to the train station. Alice acts as our sensible guide through a world of chaos, although it was definitely a gentler age. If I saw an unclaimed bottle full of liquid marked ‘Drink me’ I’d assume it was full of pee.

The notion of ‘Wonderland’ made me realise how freaky it would be if proper dreams came true. The unpredictable nature of subconscious night-time slumbering is perfectly played out in Alice’s adventures – just when she thinks she has a handle on the situation it all changes - which is actually quite frightening.

As a child I bonded with Alice over the love of her cat, Dinah. What an elegant name for a cat! I also think many adult women can relate to Alice, in the way that her size keeps shrinking and expanding. The same thing happens to me with chocolate, although I’ve yet to discover which side of the bar will make me grow smaller. I keep finding the side that makes me grow bigger. In honour of Alice I’ll keep looking.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
Published: 1865
Author: Lewis Carroll
Illustrations: Sir John Tenniel

Curious fact one: I can recite the Jabberwocky.
Curious fact two: I’m rather fond of momeraths.
Curious fact three: I get sleepy during the song ‘All in the Golden Months of June’ in the Disney cartoon of Alice.
Curious fact four: I don’t like the Mock Turtle.
Curious fact five: Me and my good friend R have been parodying ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’ poem in birthday cards since we were teenagers.

Three A-Z Highlights!
Roza M at A day into the writer posts about Ambition
Wendy Tyler Ryan posts about A Love Rekindled
Jacqueline at Chez Mukweto posts about Amigurumi, Apples, and Answer

Before I Go to Sleep trailer, and the A-Z challenge

2011-03-31T13:44:00.004+01:00

This is the last post before we kick off tomorrow with a month of A-Z madness! So since I have a theme in mind (more of that later) let me start by sharing something amazing I recently watched - the book trailer for SJ Watson’s forthcoming novel Before I Go to Sleep:

How spooky is that?! It gives me goose-bumps. I like its simplicity and the way it already feels like a film. It is also nicely succinct and perfectly teasing – just like good trailers should be. The book is released on April 28 2011 – can’t wait! Read more on his blog.

Now onto the month of madness! From tomorrow, there will be over 800 bloggers participating in Arlee Bird’s A-Z Challenge. Over eight hundred! Wow - kudos to the organisers behind this massive blogging get-together:

Arlee Bird's Tossing It Out
Jeffrey Beesler's World of the Scribe
Alex J. Cavanaugh
Jen Daiker at Unedited
Candace Ganger's The Misadventures in Candyland
Karen J Gowen at Coming Down the Mountain
Talli Roland
Stephen Tremp's Breakthrough Blogs

Each day throughout April (bar Sundays) people will be blogging with posts inspired by letters of the alphabet. It will be fun! It will be huge! It will be frankly terrifying to post every day! I’ve turned into such a sad slacker with blogging – my work is conspiring with my commute to turn me into an eventide zombie. I am hoping a month of disciplined blogging will make me realise I can find a balance again.

My theme will be my favourite children’s book characters. Each day I’ll introduce a character – be they from modern books or the classics – and we’ll have a bit of a giggle. I just know you’ll never guess who my ‘V’ is going to be. Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of me before the day! (I feel fairly safe considering it is unlikely any wild horses are going to charge down the north circular.)

I’m also going to hop around the other blogs doing the challenge and highlight a few others each day that catch my eye. If any writing news comes in throughout April I will pop it under the main post. But apart from that – good luck everyone! And new followers – you are most welcome! Leave me a comment to let me know you are out there, and I’ll pop back to say hello. :)

The trouble is no desk, m’Lord

2011-03-27T22:32:00.003+01:00

I’m feeling like a displaced oyster at the moment. (Bear with me on this.) When I moved back home I knew I’d be setting up my computer in my bedroom, which although swims in fitted furniture, doesn’t swim with a desk. So my options were balancing the PC on top of a chest of drawers, or on top of a dresser.

I tried the first option for a while but had to sit on my bed and twist around into the Uncomfortable Writer pose. After a while something had to give (chiefly my knees) and I shifted camp to the second option. This meant I could sit on a chair (whoop!) but again only at a diagonal as my knees fight the hard drive, which always wins (‘cos it’s hard, innit?).

If that wasn’t bad enough, the PC has decided to die a long loud death and doesn’t like me working on it anymore. I know I need to give it some more memory but the thought of chiselling off its dusty casing fills me with dread, especially as I seem to be Static Girl with anything shiny. Can Static Girl cause explosions? I’m not sure north London wants me to find out.

So the other option is working downstairs on a laptop. This means I get to sit at a table (double-whoop!) but have to pack everything away sharpish if people want to, say, eat dinner at the table, or anything strange like that. So I am constantly shifting folders of notes everywhere and have ended up in a noteworthy muddle. It also means I have to be shit hot at typing through Eastenders and conversations, as well as very dedicated to not spend the evening being sucked into films like Back to the Future. (Although who can fail to be charmed by lines like ‘the flux capacitor is fluxing nicely’?)

I feel like my writing needs a little corner to call its own. Some place that I’ve pegged off to say this area is for writing and typing. There is one other option by the cats litter tray but it doesn’t feel that auspicious, does it? I don’t suppose Tolkien started creating hobbits surrounded by Fussy Puss Litter, Extra Strength. It just feels a bit wrong. I know some authors write in their shed, but our shed has shed things in it. Perching on top of a lawn-mower being watched by spiders doesn’t appeal either.

Ah well, I know I’ll work around this and sort something out. Sometimes I think my brain spins up excuses for me to not write, as if I ‘can’t’ do it then I can’t send things away and my stories can’t be rejected. Oh brain, you cunning annoying thing, you. I don’t want this sort of protection – I want to get going!

The drums of Dol

2011-03-22T12:50:00.002Z

Can you hear them? They beat a dull uninspiring clunk behind each hour. I get up (clunk!), get dressed (clunk!), travel to work (clunky clunk!), work (ker-lunk!), travel back (clunkety clunk!) and go to bed (zzz-clunk!) and still the doldrums bang on.

I can’t seem to shake them. I feel tired and vapid. This could be because I have finally been forced to admit caffeine hates my guts. Literally. It’s nearly been a whole month since saying a tearful goodbye to coffee, tea and other wonderfully caffeinated things, and I’m still sort of cranky about it. Soon I’ll have no vices left. I’ll have to create some new ones.

Darn food intolerances. It seems the more I like a food, the more my stomach decides to be totally contrary. It’s all a bit hit and miss trying to work out what’s okay and what’s not, but so far shellfish, certain nuts, caffeine, and coffee of any sort (de-caff included!) is on the banned list. All I know is cutting this stuff out makes my stomach very happy, which is miles better than a depressed digestion so this is the way it has to be, however if sugar is next I’ll scream.

I’m aware my poor blog is getting dusty while I try and unlock my fingers to post. Every last bit of energy seems to have snuck off; even my eyelids feel the chore of gravity. All work and no play makes Jayne a dull girl. Yet I do play – the past weekend was lovely – so why do I feel like this? I think it must be ‘all work and no writing makes Jayne a dull girl’. Or all work and no money? When is pay day, anyway?!

But writing has been happening in the gaps. I finally whacked, banged, cajoled and coaxed my synopsis into shape. It is three pages (approx 1200 words) and I can’t help wondering whether it is too long, but I really like it.

Let’s share triumphs – what have you triumphed at recently?

I’ll go first. Writing my synopsis was a triumph, as has been resisting coffee! I also found a brilliant jumper in a charity shop for £3. Major triumph!

A Slippery Story

2011-03-15T17:39:00.003Z

Ski slope names can be rather jaunty and fun – but who was the poor soul who christened ‘Wounded Knee?’ I suspect they are the ones with the limp. Also ‘Brown Shirt’ – someone had a little accident that day, did they? There are pants for that sort of thing.

Likewise ‘The Plunge’. Gosh that sounds good. Follow that with ‘Look Out’, ‘Free Fall’, and ‘Shoulder Roll’ (in that order), and I wonder if there is a slope called ‘A & E’. I like the no nonsense of ‘Steep and Flat’ though - tell it like it is.

I’ll share one sloping tale. In Canada the slopes are labelled green, blue, black and double-black (easy to very difficult). I am a lass happiest on a blue, venturing onto single black here and there when I’m feeling brave (or when Darth Vader, my partner in crime in her black helmet, beckons me to follow her. You don’t refuse Darth.)

We were one of the first up and over the mountain on a day when fresh powder glistened. Going up a steep chair lift, and we saw a boarder making his way down directly below us. That looks like fun, said Darth, and that meant we were heading that way.

Well, we started down and for a moment it was all lovely and good. Then it went bloody steep and Darth swiftly dropped below where we were, into the trees. This meant she couldn’t get back up to me and had to make her own scary way down, knowing full well there were signs everywhere that said ‘Mind the Cliff’. Darth is a double-hard boarder, but even she said it was a bit hairy that way. (Darth Speak for F*&king Hell!)

I, meanwhile, was now on my own, and a bit stuck, with nowhere to go but down. So I sat there for a while, contemplating life, just as the chair lift loomed into sight, carrying some blokes. I sensed them looking at me and so looked up, hoping they would share some boarder words of wisdom.

And you know what they gleefully shouted, all three to a man?

‘You’re f*&ked!’

Yeah, thanks for that, guys. I had pretty much realised the f*&ked-ness of my situation without that helpful reminder.

Needless to say I slid, sloped, slithered, shimmied, and flopped my way down – all to an audience sailing above me in safety on the chair lift. But the rest of them were so nice – they cheered and yelled encouragement (one particularly gratifying shout was ‘Woah - you’re going for it!’ when for a short time I managed to actually look like I knew what I was doing).

I was so glad to eventually reach the bottom, and see Darth trudging her way towards me through the trees. ‘Shall we do it again?’ she asked.

Later, when we went back up that way, we saw a sign had now been put at the entrance to the chair lift slope. Do you know what it said?

Double-Black
Board with Extreme Caution

It was the triumph of my holiday!

Exciting Thing!

2011-03-12T21:35:00.003Z

A picture of me, not hiding behind a snowboard, is finally up and out there in the blogosphere... Eek!

The picture is not (really) the Exciting Thing (more of an Alarming Thing). But it is a by-product of the Exciting Thing, which I can now tell you about!

Some time ago, I was invited to blog for the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook website about my experiences as an aspiring author. For those that don’t know, the Yearbook is like the industry bible – full of advice and contact details – and I’ve been buying a copy since I was sixteen. My inaugural post explains how I first came across it – I could have hugged that teacher!

It would be absolutely marvellous if you could leave me a comment over there – I’ll reply to all. Come and say hi!

Here is the link to the post and my pic – yikes!

The ups and downs of short story competitions

2011-03-10T11:25:00.004Z

I had planned to write about Canada but this has leapfrogged into today’s post instead. I am GUTTED! Last year in October I entered the Asham Award, which is a short story award for unpublished women writers. The theme was ‘ghost or gothic’ and although I felt uninspired for a goodly amount of time, barely a week before the deadline creativity darkly drop-kicked into shape. I came up with a story, and it was sent out into the wilderness (description more apt for theme, I think, rather than sent to Kent.)

In December, around the time I was feeling extra gloomy, I got a letter – a golden ticket sort of letter – saying that my story was through to the shortlist. Cue jubilation in forms of skipping, hugging letter, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and seeing the world through a gorgeous rose tint.

I was very happy. It was only the second short story competition I had entered, so to be already on the shortlist felt like I was on the correct literary path, spotlights and cheerleaders (let’s make them male; let’s make them Colin Firth clones) pointing the way.

We were told the twelve winners would be informed in March, so I tried to cull my obsessive google clicking until then but it was rather hard... (Who is talking about the award? Who else is nominated? Who is the competition? What do they write like? Darn it! Who else is talking about the award? What do they say? Tell me, tell me... click, click, click.)

But now the obsessing can stop, as I’ve checked the Award’s website and the lucky winners have been announced... without me. Oh poop. Cue crash down in depressive slump, desire for biggest wrongest chocolate lunch ever, and seeing the world through grey gloop.

Still, there is a bright side... My story did make it to the shortlist, which is a fab achievement anyway, and something I can put on my writer CV (more of that another time). My story was read by wonderful authors like Sarah Waters (The Little Stranger) and Polly Samson (Out of the Picture), and Lennie Goodings (publisher of Virago) – for ten minutes they read my words – they were mine, all mine! I do now have a rather nice little story, which I can work upon to send elsewhere (as I think I know what can be improved). It was also a great boost to get through Christmas and that dreary time when you think nothing at all is happening in life the way you wish it would.

So all in all, I feel okay. It would have been brilliant to tell you my story had made it, but sharing the downs and disappointments is all part of the publishing journey. Gosh I sound so zen. I am now off to punch pillows.

PS – The line up and story titles for the Asham Award look fab, by the way, so if you are into ghostly gothic fiction do consider buying the anthology when it is released. Either check the Award website or the Virago website later this year for release information.

Back from holiday

2011-03-08T10:12:00.004Z

Subtitle: I Will Survive

And so she’s back!
From outer Banff!
I just walked in to sunny spring
With a hopeful look upon my face
I should have heard from that competition
I should have won the lottery
But instead I find bills and a second
Work project waiting for me
Go on now go
Walk out the door
Just turn around Jayne
‘cause your holiday’s over now for sure
Weren’t this sorted out before I said goodbye
Instead I’d eaten apple crumble
And blithely told the bills bye bye
Oh no I sigh
I will survive
As long as I have chocolate
I know I will stay alive
I’ve got all my stories to tell
I’ve got ebay and etsy items to sell
And I’ll survive
I will survive

Oh Canada! We had fun, you and I. But all too soon the days fly and here I am once again, staring out of the office window. I’m pleased to report I am in one piece, no broken bones, which is amazing considering I spent ten days sliding down various mountains at speed. It was blummin’ cold though – the lowest temperature was -35 and we were told to check for frostbite. Yikes. I ended up wearing so many layers and kit that I looked like an undersized Stormtrooper.

I have a bit of jet-lag and work has plunged me into the deep end without a paddle, so comments and posts may be a bit sporadic as I try to catch up around the edges. But there will be a few more posts about lovely Canada coming up soon!

Me!

Lyrics adapted from Gloria Gaynor's song I Will Survive

Jayne goes on a Travel Adventure

2011-02-22T21:19:00.004Z

Things I Should Be Doing Right Now

Drifting around the house in elegant pre-holiday clothes
Relaxing in a candle-lit bath to prepare for holiday in a Decent Fashion
Admiring my neatly packed suitcase, hand-luggage and snowboard bag
Preparing for an early refreshing night of peaceful sleep

Things I Am Actually Doing Right Now

Bailing cats from suitcases
Scurrying up the stairs with armfuls of clothes that don't fit in suitcase
Checking snowboard bag for determined tabby
Weighing suitcase; surprisingly pleased
Scurrying down the stairs to sneak more clothes in suitcase
Having a book conundrum
Vague thoughts about whereabouts of passport
Stuffing suitcase with everything I can see in my room
Weighing suitcase; look of horror

Things I Will Be Doing After Inadequate Sleep

Rushing around house in a mad panic wearing one sock

Be good, folks! Looking forward to catching up on your blogs when I'm back. J x

The House of Dennis Severs

2011-02-21T15:35:00.006Z

‘You are going to take a journey...’

Glass-fronted office buildings may squat bulkily upon Bishopsgate, but the warren of streets reflected in those anonymous eyes can sometimes reveal an older time, for those with the ability to see and imagine.

The art of Dennis Severs, showcased in his amazing time-capsule house in Folgate Street, Spitalfields, plays upon this ability, offering visitors the chance to step back through the centuries.

This is the house of the ten spells – ten rooms given over to sensory illusion lit by flickering candle. The game is that we have interrupted a family of Huguenot weavers and as we step in the room we find they have just stepped out. It is then down to our imagination to see more, should we choose. This feeling is predominant as you walk around the rooms – it is and feels like a private house, and we are but shadows in their time.

Walking around, I couldn’t help but notice how dark it was, even with candles and weak daylight filtering through the dusty windows. It was also cold – very cold. It gave me such a strange feeling about how it must have been to live in that time – how I would have lived in that time. If you didn’t have money for coal or wood, and you couldn’t spare many candles for light, then you would have lived a miserable shivery existence. Even living in opulence would have been a challenge.

I liked the two rooms used for relaxation. Pretty pastel colours ruled in the ladies ‘withdrawing’ room (so that is where the term ‘drawing room’ came from!) and the men had a wooden chamber next door (pictured above) where they could roll around spilling wine, which seemed to be their chief occupation, if you go by Hogarth. I presume the women rolling around spilling wine would have been harlots down the public house. Seems odd to think that women were either ladies or harlots. There doesn’t seem much middle ground.

I came away from the house inspired and buzzing about ideas for stories, ideas for decoration, ideas for ideas. Even better, I went to see the house with the lovely Pamela, the blogger behind From The House of Edward – so had someone equally enthused to talk to for the rest of the afternoon! If you don’t know Pamela’s blog do go and check it out – she is a beautifully evocative writer that often marries her magical words to inspiring pictures – her blog is simply one you sink into, like cashmere, and think ah, I’m home!

The pictures on this post are taken from the Dennis Severs' House website - do go to see it if you have the chance!

Questions and Answers

2011-02-15T18:57:00.003Z

Last Thursday I went to Andrea Eames’ inaugural book-reading event for her debut novel The Cry of the Go-Away Bird. It was lovely to say hello to Andrea in person and admire her red polka-dot dress; it was also interesting to watch how a book-reading unfolds. I thought Andrea was fantastic – she read from just the right parts of her book to make people want to know more, and proved herself wonderfully able to answer all sorts of questions thoughtfully and confidently, demonstrating the same wit and humour already showcased on her blog. A large amount of the audience queued up to buy a copy of the book afterwards, so I would rate that as a good job well done!

However, the breadth of questions asked did make me start thinking. People seem to expect that you, the published author, will be an authority on whatever theme your book touches. Those folk are there to hear your opinion, and not all questions asked will be cosy ones about writing – some may touch on other, more personal, subjects. So that started me wondering what themes are touched upon in my novel, as when that glorious day of a Q and A arrives (sings in manner of Gospel choir: O Glorious Day!), will I be ready?

The themes of my novel are fairly dark – death and redemption tied in with the spiritual and supernatural. It’s a time-slip novel, so veers between the Second World War and the modern-day. What sort of questions would that little lot throw up? I actually dread to think! Still, it’s not like I don’t have time to practice, I guess... (looks up hopefully in case a lovely agent is reading; scans stats for anything coming from an IP address titled Lovely Agent Is Reading Your Blog; sinks back into despair).

Going back to the book reading, and I was delighted to realise that another lovely blogger I follow, Vikki from Back to the Castle, was also in the audience! We chatted all the way back into London and went for a glass of wine in the Royal Festival Hall, which was a great way to end a fabulous evening. Not only that, but someone sketched us! I was very tempted to tap the artist on the shoulder and see how she had portrayed me - whether she’d gone for ‘girl looking intelligent chatting about art, film, and literature’ or ‘girl glugging wine like there’s no tomorrow’.

Perhaps some things in life are best left to mystery.

Yoga and Cake

2011-02-12T19:04:00.007Z

There are moments in life when you ask yourself questions. I had such a moment today when I was doing my best hot damp slug impression in Bikram Yoga. The question was ‘Why am I here?’ and it wasn’t one of those philosophical soul-searching moments, more of a ‘What’s really so wrong with slobbing about, anyhow?’ type things.

I doubt any of the super-bendy contortionists at the front of the room were thinking similar thoughts. I suspect they were At One with themselves (and the mirror.) This is probably where I am going wrong. I’m just not Zen enough - although it’s hard to be Zen and At One when sweating bare feet waft a perilous inch from your nose. Even harder when the person in front kicks their leg up and you can see what only their ever-loving partner should. Shorts that fit, now there's an invention. It’s not like you can close your eyes either, as you have to keep them open ‘so your energy stays in the room’. I don’t know where my energy goes, but I suspect it gambols down the front in amazement at the stretchy ones; it certainly doesn’t stay with me.

That said; I did come out of class feeling full of good intentions, and decided to go home via a different train route in order to finish the day with a three-mile walk. Sounds good, huh? Angelic, almost? I thought so too, and let me tell you it was just sheer coincidence that this route also includes my favourite tea-shop which sells cupcakes. I know! What are the chances, eh? You can’t let opportunities like this slide, so pretty soon I was safely ensconced inside, notebook open, pen at the ready, ready to rock the Mad Person Writing in Public look.

I’d just got to the part where you catch yourself mouthing part of the dialogue (never a good look when sat by yourself) when this poem came out of nowhere, plonked itself down and said ‘Are you writing me or what?’ So instead of working further on the short story, I spent the remainder of time happily scribbling a rhyme. Sometimes that’s just the way writing goes.

And in case you are wondering what the big surge of exercise is all about – take a look at this:

There may be a holiday on the horizon. *grins*

Weekend Wandering

2011-02-08T19:23:00.007Z

The light returns on Candlemas.

The candle in my jamjar lantern pays its homage to the flares lit on the hillside. We gather in groups - adults drinking mulled wine as children run round and around. The lights split the darkness as we nod to the growing new year.

No weekend wander is complete without treasure. There is bought treasure, the stuff found on stalls and hidden on dusty shelves...

And there is found treasure, the finest treasure of them all. A horseshoe! I couldn't stop smiling. I felt like someone was giving me a sign to say that all will be okay.

In Need of a Life Plan

2011-02-04T11:45:00.001Z

I often find it hard to sleep. Going to sleep is not a problem; staying asleep is the thing I find tricky. Thoughts amplify at night; they swirl and gather in corners. But those dark early hours, while the world slumbers and urban foxes bark beyond the window, are the best times to think of plans. In fact, the Grand Author Plan. (Oh yes, I haz one.)

I haven’t been writing much recently and it’s been worrying me. So far, since October, I have written three short stories (more about one, later), fiddled a bit with the novel, and thought up some ideas for more. That’s it... and it’s not enough, not nearly enough. My energy levels dissipate when I commute a long way and work full-time; this time last year I could do it – work during the day and write in the evenings – but now I come home and am fit for nothing. I try to stir myself to be creative but it is like stirring a pot of treacle, and the tired part of me wants to be left alone.

So what are my solutions here? As the dark night does throw me a bone, sometimes.

It seems they focus around my job – take that away, and the creative energy levels rise (as the money falls). But take it away and bang goes my chance of buying a property – mortgage providers love freelancers. In fact, take it away and can I afford to rent my own place, even? It depends what I swap the day job with – another full-time job closer to home? But would that a) pay as well, or b) be viable – the industry I work in is still shaky from the recession. And is swapping like for like worth the effort of change? It might buy me some commute time, but would I be just sticking a plaster over a still sore cut?

Or there is the freelancer route – which sounds attractive but is equally hard work - more so, when bills loom and you have to make it all happen. My experiences of working as a freelancer is like playing the Spectrum game ‘Pitfall’ (anyone remember that?) – desperately swinging from rope to rope, always looking for the next one to grab in order to save you from falling into the pit. I never felt I could relax – even when engaged on a contract I’d be thinking of the next, and the next, and what happens after that one, and this one.

I guess what it comes down to is that I’m scared of just going for it. Eep – I’ve admitted it. I’ve taken risks in the past with my writing – twice I have jettisoned everything in order to follow my dream, and twice I’ve crash-landed, to be honest. The first time I lost sight of my goal and settled for a job with the illusion of writing; the second time was beyond my control – personal circumstances and the recession meant I pretty much lost everything. I guess it is natural then to feel scared about going for it a third time (third time lucky?). If I was in my mid-twenties I probably wouldn’t be feeling this way, but add ten years and suddenly things like security look a lot more attractive.

I actually don’t know what the answer is. But maybe none of us do. It could be that I find somewhere to move to that is closer to the current day job, and this cuts out some commuter stress. As don’t get me wrong, I like the current job – it is probably one of the nicest full-time jobs that I have had. But time flies when you are busy doing something else. I think this is what scares me most of all.

Letter to London Transport

2011-02-02T12:46:00.004Z

Hidden Places

2011-01-31T11:42:00.004Z

So many times in London you hurry by grand residences with large silent doors - Georgian windows cloaked by secrecy and heavy curtains, and in the velvet dark outside you wonder what life is like for people who live in such places. On Friday night we knew the secret handshake; the ‘open sesame’ to unlock the door. In London speak; this translates to knowing a friend of a friend of a friend.

We were ushered inside to an echoing stairwell where the ghost of 1920s piano music trembled in the air. High ceilings stretched for eternity; stone flag steps were lit with hesitant candles. The mask of elegance slipped and faltered in the flickering shadows – gone were the days of decadent luxury for this building. What was left was a Grimmauld Place – the shabby heart concealed inside a grand facade. We drank champagne, pondered mysteries, and danced a tango as candelabras burnt low. When the hour struck three we scurried out; well-wrapped mice streaming from a once-proud ship. In the few minutes it took to cross the road and duck into a taxi the house had already turned to stone. The party continued behind its doors undetected and invisible; in London the party always continues somewhere.

It was a bit of an odd night, but fun and unexpected. Cities steeped in history and intrigue are made for such nights, I think.

By contrast, Sunday was spent enclosed in a women-only retreat hidden behind the bustle of Covent Garden. You enter via a shop, shed your clothes, don a robe, and wander around determined to relax. One therapy room was across a bridge over a koi carp pond and up some stairs, and there was a slight Logan’s Run feel as we ascended. I checked my hand for a red flashing life-clock, but all was well.

We relaxed, swam, gossiped, and let our worries dissipate like the steam that rose from the spa pool. Time sped up, slowed down, extended, decreased. We were in a little time warp, and if Doctor Who had stepped from behind a pillar and said we were in fact part of the woman-only world of Zog then I wouldn’t have been at all surprised.

Sometimes you live in the city; sometimes it lives in you. But either way, and even better, moments like this create stories!

Author Interview: Andrea Eames

2011-01-24T10:59:00.008Z

Andrea Eames is the lovely lady behind the blog A Cat of Impossible Colour. Her debut novel, The Cry of the Go-Away Bird, is out in February, published by Harvill Secker. Andrea is always inspiring; her evocative writing is a pleasure to read and her love of vintage style is infectious! I’m delighted to welcome her to my blog, and to ask her some questions...

How entwined are your own personal memories with Elise’s story in The Cry of the Go-Away Bird?

Hmm, this is always a tricky one to answer – the book is fiction, but I have drawn extensively on my own memories and experiences, and those of my friends and family, to create Elise’s story. This makes the narrative and my life a little like a set of Christmas tree lights that have been sitting in a closet for a year – knotted and twisted and fiendishly difficult to disentangle.

When did you first know you wanted to be a writer?

I have wanted to be a writer ever since I knew what a story was. In that way, I think I am very lucky – I never wondered what I wanted to do with my life (although I did sometimes wonder if I would be able to do it!).

Can you pinpoint a turning point for your writing career when it all started coming together?

I think it was the moment when I realised that I had to rewrite The Cry of the Go-Away Bird before it would be good enough to submit. It was heartbreaking but also invigorating to slice and hack into the words I had laboured over, and to restructure and re-imagine the whole thing. I knew it was the right decision, and it was an important lesson for me to learn as a writer. And I signed with an agent only days after submitting the rewrite.

How long did it take to write The Cry of the Go-Away Bird?

It took me about nine months to write the first draft, three months to write the second and then another three months to rewrite it pretty much from scratch! Once you factor in all the editing time (my own edits and my publisher’s) and the copy-editing, the entire process took almost two years. The publishing industry is a slow-moving land mammal, and you have to be patient.

What was the hardest thing about writing The Cry of the Go-Away Bird?

Reliving some of the more difficult events that inspired the book.

Just learning how to write a novel! I had written ‘novels’ before – several – but The Cry of the Go-Away Bird really taught me how to construct a story brick by brick (or Bird by Bird, if you read Anne Lamott!) in a way I had never before truly understood.

Pushing through the times when I thought that it was the worst book in the world and I was a terrible person for writing it. These feelings are pretty universal among writers, thankfully, and never really go away (not-so-thankfully).

Querying! Anyone who has gone through the process knows how devilishly difficult and discouraging it can be.

Having said all that, I LOVED writing the book just as much as I struggled with it.

How long did it take you to get an agent / publishing deal?

I started querying for this book in September 2008, signed with my agent in the following April and signed with my publisher (Harvill Secker, a division of Random House) in June. I rewrote the book during this process, though, based on agent feedback and my own improved perspective, and it was a very different book in June than it had been in September.

The Cry of the Go-Away Bird hits the bookshops in February 2011. How will you celebrate the occasion?

I have a tradition of always buying a new vintage dress to celebrate momentous occasions in my life, so I will have to ferret about London for my Book Launch Dress! My editors are also taking me and my agent out for drinks a few days after the launch, which will be so much fun. I can’t wait. (Although I am sure that, as well as celebrating its release, I will also be hiding under a duvet cover cowering in terror for some of the day, as well!)

What can we look forward to with your next book?

Well, I started out intending to write a historical novel about the Second Chimurenga (also known as the Bush War or the Liberation War) in 1970s Zimbabwe, but I ended up writing a book about witchcraft, black magic, family and reincarnation. My books never listen to me!

You have a flair for vintage clothes – what era most captures your imagination?

Thank you! That’s very kind. I particularly love the 1950s for its feminine glamour and the fun prints and colours that were popular at the time. I like nothing better than a really, really full skirt, perfect for twirling! It makes me feel like a character in a Technicolour musical.

What is your favourite item and why?

There are several that hold special sentimental value, and every vintage item I own has a story – which is why I love vintage so much! My husband bought me a beautiful white pencil dress for our anniversary that I wore when I first met with my publishers – that is a precious one. I also have a red polka-dot dress (pictured above) that has been with me on many adventures, and a gorgeous orange one that I found for a few pounds in Oxfam; these two never fail to lift my spirits and make me feel optimistic and energetic.

Picture the scene. You are curled up with your favourite comfort read, favourite drink, and favourite snack to hand. What are they?

Ooh! Lovely. In the morning it would be coffee, toast-and-Marmite and a Terry Pratchett book. In the evening it would be white wine, chocolate and some kind of fat, engrossing historical saga.

What advice would you give aspiring authors?

The book is the hardest part. Work really, really hard to make the book the best it can be before you even start worrying about publication. Be ruthless! And, when you are confident in your work, be persistent. And patient. And drink lots and lots of coffee.

Thank you, Andrea!

The Cry of the Go-Away Bird is out on February 10th. To read more about it, please visit Andrea’s blog A Cat of Impossible Colour; the blurb has definitely pinged my intrigue.

Also, if you have time, pour yourself a coffee and read Andrea’s short story How to Kill a Dead Man. You know that pleasure you get when settling down with a story and realising you are in an author’s very capable hands? Read it and you'll know exactly what I mean. It’s a fantastic feeling and ever since I have been anticipating her first novel – not long to wait now! Good luck with it all, Andrea!

Photographer credit for the top picture: Mark Guerra

An Apology

2011-01-22T09:56:00.002Z

This automated service is brought you on behalf of Jayne’s blog. Jayne would like to apologise for her continuing absence, and blames a peculiarly long depressing January. In fact, she claims extra days are being sneaked into January each year and the Powers That Be choose to keep it quiet in order to avoid countless contests to ‘name the new days’. (Jayne’s vote would be for Holiday.)

While we are here, Jayne would like to confess a few things, such as her addiction to Haribo Tangfastics. She thinks these are the only things getting her through grey week days filled with Systems, Thingys and Whatsits. She also has discovered a dry shampoo you spray on and brush out, and the grub in her is wondering whether she has to wash her hair ever again. You will be immensely relieved to know that the grub is nearly always over-ruled.

Jayne would also like to share she is writing another short story (mostly in her head, although has put aside all weekend to Really Concentrate). She has also decided that Hoovers have really pointless settings, such as ‘short carpet’, ‘long carpet’ and ‘luxury carpet’. Where is the setting for ‘flat carpet’? Hoover manufacturers - the only settings needed are the following:

Brand New Carpet
Carpet Owners with Long Hair
Carpet Owners with Fluffy Pets
Carpet Owners with Long Hair and Fluffy Pets (sub-title Kiss Your Carpet Goodbye)
Old Flat Carpet
Older Than Me Carpet (Heritage Unknown)

Where was I? Even automated services can digress. Ah yes, the apology. Jayne is happy to say she is working to find a balance between blogging, writing, and system thingys, and hopes normal service will resume soon, as she misses you all!

Sleepy Hollow

2011-01-14T21:09:00.004Z

Not the film – me! I feel all sleepy hollow at the moment. The system, thingy and whatsit from last week are still causing mayhem and mischief. Do you ever picture yourself running flat out at days and yet still you never catch them? That’s exactly how I feel – so much to do both at work and at home – and everything else seems to suffer a bit in-between. January has hit me like a ton of bricks, one way or another. It doesn’t help that this month hides the slow sideways shuffle towards pay-day, either.

But all is well as today I bought three shiny ring binders – one bright red, which is to house the newest print out of the novel; one bright purple, which is to be home to short stories; and one dark and full of secrets, which is to hide What Hasn’t Been Told Yet. I can get very happy with new stationery. It doesn’t take much to make me happy, come to think about it.

I’m sorry if I haven’t got around to your blogs as much as I would like. My computer at home is on its last legs and is butt-achingly slow at doing anything. Even Word seems to give it gyp. I’ve backed up everything, so that is all okay, but it worries me that it will give one last groan and then refuse to start. I can’t really afford a new one so I am hoping something amazing will happen. I’m not sure quite what I expect – computer fairy to give me pressie? Lottery win when forgotten to buy ticket? I guess I shall just have to see.

Make it happen

2011-01-07T15:08:00.005Z

I’ve had a short story idea poking me with a stick for months and yet it ran away every time I tried to pin it to paper. After repeated efforts involving a lasso, bear traps, and strategically placed chocolate, I finally had a paragraph. I didn’t even like it very much. It seemed the little story wasn’t meant to be.

Today didn’t feel like an auspicious writing day. For a start I’m at work, puzzling over a system and a thingy and a whatsit. Systems, thingys and whatsits do not make me feel very creative. I also feel a bit poorly; a bit flu-ish and sickly and pathetic-cough. The stars weren’t aligned; the magic writing fairy was snoring in a corner. The last thing I wanted to do during lunch was take myself to a coffee shop and try and write. So where did I end up?

That’s right; I did it anyway.

And you know what? The little story idea let me catch it for a short while. I managed to scribble nearly two pages, all the while frowning horribly, biting my pen, chuckling to myself and displaying all known signs of Mad Woman Writing in Public. All too soon the imaginary timer pinged and I had to come back to the office, but this time I have two pages of story, and despite the system, thingy and whatsit; despite the flu-ish, sickly, and pathetic-cough; I feel rather happy.

Holiday Haircuts

2011-01-04T12:42:00.002Z

One amusing thing about going back to work after the festive season is the amount of holiday haircuts you see on the train. Newly-washed, straightened, dyed, glossy, held in place by new shiny clips – these are haircuts that mean business, that swish in the face of New Year and say to the world ‘I am Groomed – Bring It On!’.

Sadly after a few days detangling the horrors of the Christmas Email Inbox they will have disintegrated into the Need-a-wash, frizzed, odd-grey-bits, dank, held in place by clip-regurgitated-by-cat. But while they are here let’s celebrate them!

You may have guessed, but as I was doing my best sardine in a scarf impression on the train this morning, I was thinking of ways to be positive. Look at the haircuts, I thought to myself. My, isn’t that man’s beard clipped nicely. I also played ‘Spot the Christmas Present’ with handbags, scarves, gloves, and, in a shock new entry for this year, Kindles and e-readers. Yes, a few were showing their shiny selves on the train, with their owners tapping them and then looking suspiciously over their shoulders in case of lurking Kindle Kidnappers.

I don’t really make resolutions. I like to make Vague Thoughts instead. So far the vague thoughts have swirled around big things such as ‘find place to live’ and ‘find home for book’ to ‘a bit of fitness’ and ‘must eat lettuce’. But I feel sort of sparky about 2011, and not just because I realised that if I turn my silver scarf around then it looks like a super hero cape.

Folk in my office LOVE me. You can tell.

=-=-=

Ps: Thank you so much for your kind words on my last post, about my Aunt Shirley. I was so touched by your comments - they all mean a lot to me. x

Forever Fabulous

2010-12-29T10:19:00.005Z

Aunt Shirley
1938 - Christmas Day 2010

Sadly my glamorous aunt, whose early photograph graces the header of this blog, lost her battle with cancer on Christmas day. I’d known she was very ill for some time, and it was so hard to pick out a card to send to her, something that would sum up how very much she meant to me and yet something in those last weeks that would be purposefully light and would make her smile. After a good search I found a beautiful card of a stylish Art Deco lady, which just said two words - ‘Forever Fabulous’. Perfect, I thought, and I am so glad to say she thought so too.

XxX

If this is the last card you’ll see
Will you see it and think of me?
I hope so much that it makes you smile
And you can forget the pain for a little while
I wanted to let you know I care
That if you need me I’d always be there,
And that thoughts of you will sparkle bright
In my heart, throughout my life
I won’t be sad - I’ll think with fond laughter
About you forever fabulous in the ever after

Jayne, December 2010.
I didn't put this verse in the card, as that was deliberately kept light-hearted, but it was in my heart.

What Writers Want for Christmas

2010-12-22T11:54:00.003Z

Families and friends of wannabe writers! This post is for you. This is what the aspiring author in your circle would love for Christmas and the New Year.

Start random conversations and drop in ‘when you’re an author’ as many times as you possibly can. Some examples: ‘Do you have to get that early train to work? Never mind, when you’re an author you can work from home.’ Or: ‘Won’t it be lovely this time next year when you’re an author?’ And even: ‘Let’s go into this book shop and see where your books will be placed on the shelves when you’re an author.’

A fancy, gorgeous, beautiful notebook. And then a plain, bog-standard, scruffy notebook that they will actually use.

An hour of quiet every single day for them to write with no interruptions.

A ream of plain white A4 printer paper. And another. And another.

Ink cartridges for their printer. Back up ink cartridges for when the printer runs out halfway through something bloody important.

The promise that you will gently steer them away from whatever procrastinating activity they have desperately embarked on (colour co-ordinating sock drawer, preoccupation with ironing napkins) back to their computer / writing desk.

No complaints, yawns, tapping of watches, or general Look of Gloom when they disappear into a book shop for hours. Instead greet them afterwards with the same enthusiastic welcome as a triumphant marathon runner.

If they care to share with you a plot point, do not let your gaze slide past them to Top Gear. Listen to them; support them; and make them a cup of tea.

Stephen King’s ‘On Writing’; The Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook 2011; a subscription to a writing magazine; and bookshop vouchers.

And finally, the most important thing: Your belief that they can do it. Hooray!

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Snow Cats!

2010-12-20T15:05:00.009Z

Abigail and Ginger are very curious about these bold white cats who have mysteriously taken up residence on the window ledge.

Sadly I have no pictures of the real Abigail and Ginger playing in the snow to share with you as the look they gave me when I tried to coax them outside would have withered Little Miss Sunshine. So instead let me take you on a little magical journey...

Down a road, not very far away, is a tea shop. It is the most wonderful tea shop ever, but the way to it had been blurred around the edges.

The news person on the television said 'Do not make any unnecessary journeys in the snow', but walking to a tea shop to eat a cupcake was suddenly deemed a very necessary journey to make. So the girl layered up until she was one foot taller and three foot wider, and set off down the road.

In her imagination she went this way...

...and fearlessly tracked snow leopards through jungles and fields...

In reality she walked along here - careful cars breaking the soft silence.

But it wasn't long before she was snugly tucked into her favourite seat, notebook open, tea brewing, and cupcake eaten.

You'd have to be as quick as a snow leopard to photograph this girl with a intact cupcake. But imagine the most loveliest red velvet cupcake - light, fresh, and just plain mmm-delicious, and you will know why the girl was smiling as she scribbled in her note-book.

My morning

2010-12-17T10:25:00.003Z

I didn’t sleep a wink,
As the heating’s on the blink,
And there’s no hot water for my morning shower.

We called the boiler man,
Who will pop round in his van,
I hope he isn’t lying when he says within the hour.

I legged it for my train,
Although my boots are such a pain,
And squeezed myself into a space on the carriage.

Squashed as a human block,
Listening to tinny hip hop and noisy rock,
Any closer I’ll wear white and call it marriage.

The tube is suffering a delay,
Because the signal has gone awry,
But I don’t care as at least I’ve got a seat.

The person next to me,
Has pulled out of his briefcase for all to see,
A giant fruit cake that he begins to eat.

We change tubes en masse at King’s Cross,
Once I have signal I text the boss,
Explaining the exciting morning that I’ve had.

Emerging from the station into the light,
The office building a welcome sight,
When I get to my desk I’ll actually be glad!

Book reviews: Anita Brookner and Roald Dahl

2010-12-13T22:25:00.005Z

Am in midst of Christmas bustle, so, like Santa’s reindeer, I’m dashing in with the next two reviews:

Latecomers, by Anita Brookner
Switch Bitch, by Roald Dahl

Latecomers, by Anita Brookner
First published by Jonathan Cape, 1988
This edition published by Grafton Books (a division of Collins Publishing Group) 1989

Elegant prose tells the story of two men who, as young boys during the Second World War, were thrust away from their previous lives into a new country. Both now in their sixties, they have very different attitudes to life - one always looking ahead and the other afraid to stop searching the past. They, and their families, are the latecomers – all of them late to life in some way, be it security or happiness.

There is no real drama in this book. It is a quiet tale told with loving dignity, with thoughtful character studies and a heightened awareness to surroundings and mood. Although at first I was waiting for something to happen, very soon I just enjoyed the calm pace, luxuriated in the rich descriptions and wallowed in the words. The depth of understanding in this book is immense, especially as I recognise some of these traits within myself. It is very easy to identify with the characters, and to wish them well as they pass out of our lives when we close the book. From one latecomer to another, you could say.

Switch Bitch, by Roald Dahl
Stories originally published in Playboy magazine, no date although copyright date is 1965
This edition published by Penguin Books, 1976

Roald Dahl’s children’s fiction is a bit dark and twisted in places (and didn’t we just love it!) so it’s no surprise to find his stories for adults play out in much the same way, although you wouldn’t want a child searching for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to stumble across Switch Bitch. The clue is that these tales were written for the one-handed audience of Playboy, although they are not exactly sexy (or even vaguely attractive). Rather they deal with moral questions regarding sex –and in nearly all of them the joke is on the person who thinks they are in control.

There are four stories in this little collection – The Visitor, The Great Switcheroo, The Last Act, and Bitch. Although they are well-written tales, there seems to be a streak of misogyny through them as the attitudes to women seem rather callous. However, considering he was writing for a specific audience (the 1960s Playboy audience) maybe this isn’t too surprising. Not my favourite collection of his, but worth seeking out all the same.

Oh no! (Revised)

2010-12-07T10:48:00.006Z

I sent a submission to a wonderful agency in September and heard nothing. The email didn’t bounce back, or report as undelivered, so I presumed it got there safe and well. I was a bit surprised that they didn’t have a ping back email letting me know it had arrived but didn’t think too much of it. Perhaps, and very likely, they were inundated with email submissions.

Not wishing to pry, annoy, pester, or do anything at all to ruin my chances, I observed the rule of thumb and sat on them for two months. (Obviously sat on fingers as well, in fact sat on both hands to be exact.) Then did the same for another month just in case. I now have just sent a polite follow up, wondering whether it is still under consideration, and received a ping back message saying thank you. I never got this thank you before! Does this mean they never received my initial submission? Was that silence not the silence of careful consideration of my novel, but in fact the silence of never heard from me in the first place?

Nooo... *falls to knees sobbing, or at least would if not at real work and pretending to look Very Involved and Clever*

All those months of hoping... what if it never sent? What if now the only communication this agency has received from me is a polite follow up, with nothing attached? Will I have to wait another two months for their reply, which understandably will be What are you talking about? Will I now just look like a dumb arse?

Nooo... *beats floor with hands, or at least would if not at real work and pretending to Purse Lips at Important Document*

I am gutted. All because of a ping back email. Never under-estimate the power of the ping. So what can I learn from this?

One: When sending email submissions, if you do not receive an indication that your submission arrived then follow up and politely ask.

Two:Perhaps, and I know this is a shocker, but perhaps if there is no indication then another option is calling them to ask if it arrived. (Check their guidelines and make sure they won't automatically hate you for calling them though.) This submission might be my whole life, so to speak, but also should be treated as business.

But STOP!

Revised after nine comments

The thing about being a novice is that there is always something to learn, and the thing about blogging is that there are other writers out there who are willing to share advice from their experiences along the way. The consensus is have patience, my friends, no matter if you get a ping or not! Some shared good advice from the comments is:

Maria and Anne: The little nudge note could nudge your 'maybe' submission into a rejection (eeep!)
Christine: If you didn't receive an undeliverable message then your submission was probably safely receieved
Angela: Don't call - agents are busy and don't need anything else to add to their plate

So here is the revised guide of what to do when situations like this happen, when virtually you are rolling around the office floor in agony while the real you is Poised with a Brave Little Smile (which has no place on my face whatsoever, as I am about to click open an excel spreadsheet and those things should never be approached with a brave little smile but with a stoic Look of Doom.)

One: Read guidelines. Send email submission. Mark in diary correct date of when they say it is appropriate to contact them again (two - three months is usual). Sit on hands. Do not worry about getting a ping back email. Do not worry if it seems email has been sent into a void, fate unknown. Concentrate on next story and if you have heard nothing by the time the correct date comes around, send polite little follow up email. Sit on hands again. Continue submitting and querying elsewhere. If you really and truly hear nothing months later then it's probably safe to assume that the agency just wasn't the right fit for you and your story. Chin up!

Two: Just like there is no spoon in the Matrix, there is no Two.

My UnFavourite Things

2010-12-03T15:51:00.002Z

Raindrops on windows; not-working pens
Spreadsheets I have to read over and over again
Boring brown jumpers and voices that grate
These are a few of the things that I hate

Organic oatcakes and dry plain ryvita
Trying so hard to avoid something sweeter
Work diaries that groan and trains that don’t wait
These are a few of the things that I hate

When the sun shines
And I feel fine
When I’m feeling great
I always forget my unfavorite things,
Until the next grumpy day when I hate...

Realising your tights have a long-running ladder
Being stuck in a meeting with a really full bladder
Silver white hair that appears on my head
These are the things that I really dread

Cream-coloured ponies should stay in their stables
Doorbells and sleigh bells should be quiet, not enabled
Grumpy cold Jaynes should be flown home on goose wings
So they can feel happy again focusing on favourite things!

With thanks to Oscar Hammerstein II and Richard Rodgers, The Sound of Music

Being dynamic vs. being...well...not

2010-12-02T19:59:00.006Z

Every day at work I hope that something amazing will happen to change my life. I obsessively check my email (work, personal, random web-mails that no one knows anyway), check my phone in case I have missed The Call (ever hopeful there will be a call), and check my blog. What am I waiting for? Well – like many of us here – I am waiting to hear that someone likes my novel, my ideas, and my fiction competition entry (go on, I'm nice; the stories are nice - please!) But am I creating enough opportunities for any of this to happen or am I just being passive?

I fear the latter. I always think there is more I can be doing, more I should be doing, to promote myself and my writing. I should be snuffling around every opportunity like a pig with a truffle (or like a girl with a Twirl chocolate bar). I should be hell for leather going for it, instead of sitting here waiting. So let’s see what I am actually doing and if anything can be improved.

1. Novel. Friends are reading it and giving advice on some small changes. I am working on these edits (mainly with dialogue contractions) and am doing more on my synopsis. I am also plotting another book with some of these characters and am reading back through the original to see what I can play with next time around. (So much fun!) This redraft (have lost count how many) should be finished in a few days. It will be then be shiny and ready for a fabulous agent to enjoy.

2. Ideas. I have sent two follow-up emails about something I hoped to work on, and sadly both seem to have fallen into a black hole. I am gutted as it was something I really wanted to happen but there is only so much I can pester without turning into, well, a pest. But it is a busy time of year so I must be patient, continue thinking positive, and come up with some more ideas just in case it goes ahead after all.

3. Competition Entry. People are due to be notified in December and I’m only two days in. Winners are not announced until March anyway so I should not be thinking about this at all. Oh but I wanna! I want it so bad. I want everything so bad!

So now I have listed things I can see that I am doing quite a few things already. Sometimes it doesn’t seem like anything is happening as there are no physical results but, under the surface, everything is ticking on nicely!

Book review: The Hating Game

2010-12-01T10:06:00.004Z

This book gets a review post all of its own as it is Talli Roland’s debut novel, and today is her web splash – hoorah! Come on – get wet!

The Hating Game, by Talli Roland
Published by Prospera Publishing (e-book Dec 1, 2010)

The Hating Game zings along at a cracking pace, with humour to match. Mattie Johns, her recruitment business teetering on the brink of despair, is seduced into appearing on a dating show for a dizzying amount of prize money. Unbeknownst to her, the conniving folk behind the reality show, SiniStar Productions, have lined up four of her ex-boyfriends to star as the contestants. The contestants could be looking for love or revenge, but SiniStar Productions are only looking for ratings – and will stop at nothing to get them.

Author Talli weaves great humour with her playful take on names – SiniStar Productions just one of them – and each chapter accelerates the action, highlighting the dark side of reality television. Some of my favourite lines:

A faded sign with greying letters spelled out ‘Cliff Top Holiday Park’. Scrawled underneath was a demented-looking happy face beside the words ‘is shit’.

***

She expected him to be in servitude somewhere along the M25, asking: ‘Do you want fries with that?’

***

Her mocking eyes and dismissive tone reminded Nate of his Granny Edith, who was forever grabbing handfuls of his puppy fat and cackling.

***

The Hating Game is a fun, escapist read, and you find yourself rooting for Mattie, hoping that once the reality show is over, her real life can begin.

And now over to you, folks!
Subtitle: How You Can Help A Fellow Blogger!

Help Talli Roland's debut novel THE HATING GAME hit the Kindle bestseller list at Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk by spreading the word today. Even a few sales in a short period of time on Amazon helps push the book up the rankings, making it more visible to other readers.

No Kindle? Download a free app at Amazon for Mac, iPhone, PC, Android and more.

The Hating Game is coming soon in paperback. Keep up with the latest at www.talliroland.com and at her blog.

Good luck, Talli!

Book reviews: George Orwell and Muriel Spark

2010-11-28T17:31:00.006Z

Reviewing all the books I read in a year is a nice record of my reading habits but hard to keep up with the amount of books I seem to get through! Without further ado, here are the latest two to be reviewed…

Animal Farm, by George Orwell
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, by Muriel Spark

Animal Farm, by George Orwell
First published by Secker & Warburg, 1945
This edition published by Penguin, 1973

Books that were on the school curriculum suffered as much as I did from forced reading. I still shudder when thinking of metaphysical poetry, for example. But slowly I am returning to the fiction made dusty in classrooms, and this is one of them – George Orwell’s ‘fairy story’ of a tainted revolution.

The book’s premise is achingly simple and oh-so clever. The animals stage a coup and drive out the farmer, proposing to work for themselves. Their success hides the fact someone has to be the leader, a mantle assumed by the pigs, and over time a terrible transformation takes place.

This is the sort of fairy story of which the Grimm brothers would have been proud. Each animal has a role that reflects our society – whether it is the honest everyman of Boxer the horse or the blind obedience of the sheep. It’s not a mirror one cares to linger in front of for too long in fear of what you may see.

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, by Muriel Spark
First published in Great Britain by Macmillan, presume 1961
This edition published by Penguin, 1969

This is a fascinating story of a woman teacher desperate to make an impression, to appear cultured and charming, and the impressionable girls who she taught at school. We are told early on that one of ‘the Brodie set’ betrayed her by bringing about her dismissal as a teacher. But which one?

Is Miss Jean Brodie in her prime? You’d never know from the prose. It’s only repeated about a hundred times, but Muriel Spark likes to hang tags on her cast of characters and invokes them with nearly every mention. In this way the characters become slightly two-dimensional as we only ever see one trait – Sandy’s small peering eyes, Rose ‘famous for sex’. But knowing one trait opens our eyes to details that surround the characters - 1930s Edinburgh, the era preluding the Second World War.

The novel unfolds making good use of prolepsis / flash forward – this technique allows us to know events before they happened and gives a sense of fatality to the story even before we pass the first chapter. But what we lose with suspense we gain with attention to detail, and try to pick up on clues as to why the story unfolds like it does. At first Miss Brodie’s influence over ‘her girls’ seems beneficial but as they grow older it is revealed as manipulation.

Incidentally, great cover, isn't it? It shows Maggie Smith as Miss Jean Brodie in the 1969 film, for which she won the Academy Award for Best Actress.

Contractions in Dialogue

2010-11-24T15:09:00.001Z

Popping in very quickly as today I have a day off ‘real’ work to do what I like to think of as my personal real work – work on my novel. As per, sometimes my body forgets that these days off are not proper days off and likes instead to lie about slovenly and watch random television. I have to bribe it with biscuits to sit here and write/redraft. And today would be the day when I have no chocolate whatsoever and am reduced to eating biscuits from the back of the bread bin. Yup, the Biscuits That Taste Forgot.

I still eat them though.

Today one of the things I am checking within my novel is the dialogue. What I am looking out for is things like ‘I am’ rather than ‘I’m’ – when speaking, unless there is a reason to say it precisely, mostly folk would use a contraction and say ‘I’m taking the dog for a walk’ rather than ‘I am taking the dog for a walk’. The latter brings a whole new stress to the tone of the dialogue – if you say it out loud it sounds like the person speaking is highly exasperated with the person asking, i.e.

Parent (asking even though is watching teenage son fixing dog leash to dog): What are you doing?
Teenage son: I am taking the dog for a walk. (Optional ‘durr’ on the end.)

It is more natural to use contractions within dialogue – it’s for it is, I’m for I am, that’s for that is, etc. I’m taking advantage of a quiet house to declaim my dialogue to the cats (they are thrilled) so I can listen to my speech. The trick is reading aloud exactly what I have written and not what I ‘think’ I have written!

Business Speak

2010-11-22T13:26:00.003Z

I bloody hate it. Here are my pet peeves:

Elevate. What am I, a lift? This just means asking someone higher up, which leads us to:

The food chain. Nice. This is the sort of thing mentioned by people who rate themselves as sharks or tigers as opposed to plankton. No one would rate themselves as plankton. Even plankton itself, if it had an option, probably wouldn’t rate itself as plankton. People that use ‘the food chain’ often also use:

Cascade. E.g. cascading information up and down ‘the food chain’. (Although usually 'down' as, from what we have seen above, folk who use this like to think of themselves as sharks rather than mere worker plankton.) Whenever I hear the word 'cascade' I wonder what happened to the word ‘tell’? How about ‘distribute’? But people like to cascade information in relation to:

Forward Planning. How can planning be anything other than forward? Backward planning doesn’t really work. I wish I could backward plan not to have drank quite so much on Saturday night but wishing it won’t make the Day of Woe (Sunday) go away. This is also linked in with:

Pre-planning. Please don’t ever go there, either. A plan before the plan? Purlease. Although maybe they are making sure they are:

Sweating the Asset. What a pretty picture this conjures in my mind. A big hairy sweaty ass (arse). Thanks for that. When it comes to assets, people may also think about:

Leverage. For the love of plain speaking, why can’t folk say they are going to ‘use’ or ‘take advantage’ of their contacts as opposed to ‘leveraging’ them? Leverage sounds like something people do with a crow bar. Although when it comes to plain speaking, it appears business speak folk do not have:

Visibility. Used in sentences such as ‘I don’t have visibility of that issue/email/system/thing.’ Actually means ‘I don’t know’. Whenever someone says they don’t have visibility, my head will automatically translate this to mean they know nothing at all about anything. This will be further reinforced if they proceed to:

Speak in abbreviations. WTF?

Any more for any more?

Resolutions, of sorts

2010-11-18T14:34:00.003Z

And so she’s back!
From Lanzarote!
She swam in the sea
And it really wasn’t grotty
I should have packed my second sun-dress
I should have drank Sangria 'til I was sick
If I’d known for just one second
I’d be back so very quick!

My word. Holidays just fly, don’t they? I managed to read two books from my enormous pile (okay, that was a tad ambitious) and made the mistake of starting the whopper book breezeblock, Stephen King’s Under The Dome, on the last day. This meant I have been glued to it ever since – folks, it is a good one. I barely noticed the plane ride. This is the book I wanted Duma Key to be. Anyway, there shall be more of it in a review when I get my act together (looks under chocolate wrappers for Act; finds it cowering away with mahoosive To Do list).

Mahoosive. Anyone remember that word from school? A cross between massive and...hm. Moose? Yes, that was it. Our school had such a way with words. I remember one of our teachers, a youngish chap but not young enough to be down with all the slang, flying into our classroom to ask us what ‘chief’ meant when aimed as a verbal arrow. We laughed, told him it wasn’t complimentary, and he went flying out of the classroom again in a rage.

Where was I? Ah yes. Act. I made a list (and I am checking it twice) full of things I need to crack on with, and most of it involves actually writing something. I feel like I have reverted into being a person with ideas for stories without actually committing them to paper/screen/software programme. This makes me a very sad girl indeed, so I am full of new resolutions to widen the cracks of space around full-time work so I can drip-feed in some stories. That is, if I can stay out from Under the Dome long enough.

What was the last book you fell into?

Holiday Packing

2010-11-10T20:22:00.008Z

Whenever I think of holiday packing, the thought uppermost in my mind is holiday reading. I have amassed a small light portable collection here.

Surely that little lot will fit into my suitcase?

Oh.

Perhaps if I...

Oh.
Hm. Surely I need clothes and things? Maybe I should rethink my books?

*quivers*

Ah sod it. Who needs anything else?!

Jx