Me - In Interview!

Strictly Writing, the other site I write for, is stuffed full of fabulous people.  Not least the other members of the Strictly Team, without whom the dark writing days would seem bleaker.  But by far the best people on the Strictly site are our gamut of lovely followers.

And after I'd announced my recent foray into self-publication, one loyal follower, Derek, invited me to guest post on his blog, here: 'Along The Write Lines' .

And so, *clears throat* I give you.... ME.  being interviewed (I know - mental, isn't it?!).

If I had the technical know-how, I'd print it off and frame it.  Oh hang on..... *prtscrn* *copy* *paste*...... 

I'm going to be published!

...Okay, not in a whole book kinda way, but in a proper, print-on-paper - in a proper National glossy magazine.... and not until the June issue (which is out 5 May if you'd like to add it to that week's grocery list) but enough of the *although*s - this IS FAB NEWS!  My first ever feature and I'm going to be PAID for it and everything!
*Unless you count the years I spent writing features for Trade magazines about Shrink Wrapping and packaging machinery...and I never got this excited about those.  Oh, apart from the one I wrote about the Cadbury's Creme Egg line we installed - which I was VERY proud of - entitled  "Eggs-pertise by *name of company*". 

The piece is going to appear in IT'S FATE! Magazine and I couldn't have done it without my on-line spirit-sister, Deborah Durbin.

It's about the time my Dad predicted the date.. yes DATE - he'd die when he was reading my cards - without knowing what it meant.  And not only that, but he kind of popped back the day before his funeral and gave me a sign - which I'd asked him to do the night we said our farewells.

And I don't want to spoil the excitement for you, so that's all I'm saying.  I'm very encouraged.  The Editor said it was a "lovely account" and I'm delighted!

Plus, the subbing for GROUNDED starts here.....well, Tuesday to be precise.  As previously reported, I have finished, slept on and now, after my ever-supportive little soul-sister, Keris Stainton who kindly read, said she thinks this is going to be "the One" and that she "loved"  this, my 2nd Teenage book, I have the confidence to start making enquiries to Agents. 

So in all, a pretty good place to be, I'd say.

Having a Lovely Time - makes a change!

This week I've had some lovely things happen to me.  Apart from ageing 12 months I mean... which has to happen to have a Birthday, so I guess one cancels out the other.  A bit of Yin-Yang.

I had a very unexpected delivery in the shape of an Amazon-gift-wrapped DVD set of Fawlty Towers  from my oldest (and gayest) friend in the world.  I don't mean he's the oldest person I know (although he IS the gayest, as I don't know any others, apart from his husband... oh, you know what I mean) anyway, we've  known each other since we were 5.  Isn't that lovely?  I think it is.  And so is the fact that we can go for months without any form of contact whatsoever (sometimes years, in fact) and then he can call - a proper telephone call, a little worse the wear for beer and have what HE thinks is a laugh (at my expense).  Which makes me realise that ours is a proper Forever Friends friendship. And even though we're officially grown-ups, I still want to stick my tongue out at him and pour a pint of beer over his head because he manages brings out the petulant child in me.

I also took delivery of a book for review by Dorothy Koomson 'The Woman He Loved Before' and although I felt slightly sorry for it (see last post) having to follow in the wake of the FANTABULOUS 'You Don't Have To Say You Love Me' by Sarra Manning, I was delighted to receive it. 
In fact it filled up the following three days, it was so darned good.  EVEN THOUGH it contained three of my Deadliest Sins in a Book:
* a Prologue - which is the work of the Devil
* Flashbacks (the Devils' spawn)  and
* Diary entries (which formed the flashbacks - so double *aaargh* for me)

But I had my head turned.  Not only was I hooked after the first chapter, I actually couldn't put it down... it gave me right-wrist-sprain trying to keep it up in bed (no sniggering at the back, thank you) and even though I desperately wanted to find out how it ended, I wouldn't let myself.  It was a thoroughly gripping read and if I didn't know the meaning of the word 'page-turner' before, I do now.  Fab book.

For my Birthday on Tuesday, my darling, beautiful daughter presented me with the latest 'Writers and Artists Yearbook' and inscribed inside "THIS will be your year, Mummy" (as she has always insisted and inscribed every year for the past 4) and my beloved husband bought me some lovely CD's (Rumer, Paloma Faith, Bach) and then we double-dated on a trip to the cinema to see 'Paul'.

Which was lovely, and British and funny.  Just how I like it.

I also got a surprise present through the post from my lovely writing 'sister' Deborah Durbin which also made me squeak with delight, belying my advancing years!

I had so many Birthday Wishes on Facebook I could have spent all day sobbing with happiness at people's niceness... and

This morning I met someone from work for a coffee and a bun.  Something trivial to anybody else, but the fact I haven't socialised properly since the accident last April, for me, it meant the world - even though I know I was nervous, twitchy and itching to get back home.  I kept repeating in my head "Dolly Steps".

And now, after a fortnight (and 18 months of writing) of simmering and stirring and seasoning the latest book, I've finally managed to pluck up courage to send the first few chapters and synopsis of 'Grounded' off to The Agent who was interested in the last teenage book.... thinking maybe she'd forgotten about me.  A couple of minutes later she e-mailed back saying how she's looking forward to reading this one, and that the other one is still with the other person she passed it to, to read and comment on.

And the sun's out.

It don't get much better, do it?

Fab new book by the fab Talli Roland!

My daughter used to laugh at me with my array of 'virtual friend's but nowadays, after years (some nearing a decade) of conversing with these people, I truly DO consider them proper friends in the real sense.  And one of them, the effervescent and completely lovely Talli Roland, has her first fiction book released today.  And I'm very happy to say that I'm part of her fabulous 'Blogsplash' in a quest to get her book, "The Hating Game", as wide an audience as possible.

Help Talli's  debut novel THE HATING GAME hit the Kindle best-seller 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.

Amazon.co.uk: http://amzn.to/hNBkJk

Amazon.com: http://amzn.to/hX2ieD

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

Coming soon in paperback.  Keep up with the latest at www.talliroland.com.

About THE HATING GAME:

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

Talli is also Guesting today over on the other blog I write for, Strictly Writing, so if you want to get to know her a little better, now's as good a chance as any!

OMG It's Got To Be Perfect, I'm 40!

I feel very privileged to tell you that two of my loveliest writer friends have new books coming/out right now!


The funny, talented and super-storyteller, Claire Allan has her fourth book "It's got to be Perfect" out on the 28th - that's next Tuesday to me and you... and not only that, but she's also guest-appearing on the other site I write for, Strictly Writing on that day.   So make a note of it in your diary, set your mobile to vibrate or something and come on over, there'll be fresh muffins and all sorts (in a 'virtual' kinda way, obvs).

And whilst you're waiting for the release of Claire's latest bound-to-be-bestselling-book, why not head out right NOW and get a copy of my gorgeous Witchy friend, Deborah Durbin's latest book, "Oh My God, I'm 40!".  You're either heading that way, know someone who is, or fancy being all ironic towards your twenty-something friends, right?  Either way, this book is a MUST HAVE for any woman approaching the summer of her years.  And what a fab way to fill somebody's stocking this Christmas, eh?

Personally I don't see the big deal in turning 40.  But then women my age ALWAYS say things like that, which just goes to show how old they really are...
Of course having a *29 year old boyfriend at the time, helped me overcome all kinds of obstacles with the turning 40 malarkay. Ah, happy days!

*He turned 30 a few weeks after, which sounds a lot more respectable, don't you think?! (also he was the one with the pipe, slippers and hair cascading from his ears/nose, so there's not always so much glamour associated with the Younger Man, I can assure you!)

Hocus Pocus, diddely doo...

Some of you have probably heard me allude to this previously, but if you haven't, then all I can say is this:
"I Did Me a Spell and Got Me A Man"  - and not just any old (not even 'old' as a matter of fact) 'man' because, reader, I married him!

I had 8 years (interspersed with the occasional 'relationship', of course, I'm only human - no, seriously, I am) of being a born-again-singleton, following my husband's disappearance with his secretary.  I know - this is art imitating life or the other way round, I'm never sure , but I'm certain it's God's way of passing me more material for future fictional use.

[aside - to God]: "No, it's fine.  No, honestly it is, I can see the funny side of it now - no, no, you're okay, it didn't kill me.  Yup, I can use it somewhere.  In fact I already did.  No, it was rejected.  No, that's fine too - seriously - yes, neverending material, it's all good.  Mmm. Thanks.]

And during this time, one of my friends gave me a cute little book called "There's a Little Witch in Every Woman" which I used as a wine glass coaster for about seven of those barren years.

Coincidentally, the author of this cutesy little book, the lovely and clever Deborah Durbin, has since become a very dear friend since we met on a writers website a year or so back.  And she's pretty hot with anything Magickal.

I remember actually doing this.  I was sitting at the little round table at one end of my kitchen/diner in the little house the Girl and I had moved into 7 years previously and I was probably only flicking through the book because I'd just lifted the wine glass from it.  Initially I was contemplating the 'fortune' and 'success' spells but then I was drawn to this one.

The 'spell' (if I remember correctly) told me to get an action figure.  Great. In a house with 2 girls and 2 cats, the closest I'd get to any kind of 'doll' would be an old Barbie - and as much as I loved Transvestites, I didn't especially dream of growing old with one.  

And then you had to dress him in the style of clothes you'd like Dream Man to wear.  Double bloody great.  There was no way I was driving over to Toys R Us, buying a Ken and then finding a selection of groovy outfits for him.  I might have been alone without any whiff of finding a decent bloke, but I wasn't THAT desperate.  And even if I was, I'd just sunk half a bottle of wine.  It'd have to wait until tomorrow.

So I simply drew the outline of a male figure on a sheet of A4.

In the 'spell' you had to lie him down on the sheet - my way  just required more visualisation.  And then you had to draw arrows from his body ( at this juncture, I'm just glad I hadn't got a real action figure, because last time I saw a naked Ken, he was sorely lacking in some 'areas') to indicate personal preferences like eye colour, hair colour, height, etc... all the basics required for your regular Dream Fella.

And then add characteristics.My Prince Charming would be kind, smiley, compassionate, clever, funny, tolerant, hard-working, love his mother, play an instrument, love cooking, etc...   And I made sure my list included 'lovely smile'.  A big,  generous smile.  Because if someone has the kind of smile that can melt the hardest of hearts, then my heart is theirs, no questions asked.

And on the reverse of this paper you had to write down what you didn't want.  The type of things you wouldn't tolerate.  So I included stuff like:
* 'won't have an affair and run off with another woman',
* 'won't get blind drunk before he goes to work  and then be found in a milk van by the side of the road at 7.30am',
* 'won't call me a miserable, sour-faced bitch when I have PMT'
* 'won't fear the dentist so much that I can't make him laugh because that would involve opening his mouth to reveal incredibly spikey, gappy teeth in what is otherwise a quite nice face after half a bottle of Pinot' and, of course, the clincher,

* 'won't insist that wayward, unsightly hair growing from ear holes and nostrils is in any way funny and funky and that wearing slippers and sucking an unlit pipe when there's guests coming round is in any way "Retro".

Kind of thing.

For the final part of the spell you were to sprinkle some Rosemary over the figure's head but I just couldn't be arsed.

I remember staring at this drawing for ages and then having a bloody good laugh at myself for believing such a man (ever) existed, and that 'spell's in whatever shape they took really worked.  So I chucked it, downed the rest of the wine and threw myself into a mad dance round the kitchen to the strains of "I will Survive" or similar. No, I actually DID do that. In fact I did that a lot.  I even had the neighbours round once to ask me to keep it down - the height of Sad, being asked to keep the noise down when you're home alone... still... like I said, material...

A year later this guy walked off the A4 sheet and into my life.  I didn't realise he was my 'Ken' then but it didn't take me long to work it out.

I got some nice 'extra's too: the incredibly sexy tattoo on a very hard muscled arm and the heart-fluttering carpenter's toolbelt... Phew! Either somebody Up There must really *heart* me - or else there's a bigger Witch in this Woman than anyone's given me prior credit for!

p.s. is it too late to add on the reverse of my wish *mustn't snore  so much and get quite so angry with the nice people at Vodafone?*

p.p.s. all the *'s actually refer to separate blokes - all these "qualities" in one man, I have yet to find.  Eeeew... can you imagine?!

Anyone for NaNoWriMo ?

It seems that news of this exercise of mammoth literary proportions gets earlier and earlier every year (maybe it's just me, maybe it's the 'circles' I mix in these days - thanks to the beautiful and talented Suz Korb for pointing this out to me on her equally beautiful blog, 'Bang out the Prose', btw) and I've just signed up for it.

The NaNoNoticeBoard

Again.
Which makes this the fifth (I think) year that I'll be doing it.  Which also makes me a complete and utter Eejit because it runs for the whole of November - so, not only do we have the indisputably stress-filled Open Evening at our school that month, which  means I run around like a headless chicken with Anne Other until all we're capable of  is staple-gunning anything that moves to the walls,  but I've also volunteered myself to long-list the Strictly Writing short story entries for that month too.  [Aside: 'hmmmm... no wonder that particular slot was available... didn't see that one coming, did I'?].

But I like a challenge.  No, I do.  I just don't like to invite challenge.

I also like a nice lie in and for life not to be too overly stressful.  Of course I like a nice cup of tea too.  But this will be fine.  It will all be fine.  And I've learnt from experience that I will do it and get through it.

One way or the other.

 p.s. if you click to embiggen on the pic above, you'll see that last year I DID get through it, and there's my "WINNER" certificate to prove I did.  All mounted and laminated and everything.  Oh, you can also see all the lovely cards and notes I have from people who mean the world to me, too.

A lovely thing

They know who they are, the lovely ladies who got together and sent me these beautiful roses through the post and I just wanted to publicly say another thanks to them - for them - and for being so amazing and supportive and understanding and for being such wonderful, fabulous people who write amazing stuff and lead such busy productive lives and yet still find time to say and write lovely uplifting things to me, too.
I *heart* you all.
x

OMG! I've read Keris's book!

Friends and followers of this blog know that I know some p-r-e-t-t-y fabulous author-type people.
And they don't come any prettier or fabulouser than Keris Stainton.
And even though we've 'known' each other for six or so years (we met on the WWWriting site Write Words when she was the effervescent host of the Chicklit Group) we've never actually met in the flesh - so's to speak.  Which will  be remedied a week on Saturday when the Girl and I are joining a happy throng of others at the launch of her first published book "Della Says: OMG!"
(She wasn't allowed to say WTF in the end)
And -OMG! I read it - in three days flat.  And I didn't want it to end - which is always the sign of a really, really good book.  That, and the fact that I get so attached to the characters that I'm offended when they don't keep in touch after the last page, but I'm thinking that's maybe more to do with paranoia on my part and less the intention of the book itself.
Anyway - here's my review of Keris's fantastic debut which I put on Amazon - oh, and while you're there, why don't you just click on 'place order' - you'll be very happy you did and you'll make another pretty fabulous author person very happy too!

OMG! What can I say? This book was absolutely the best 2 nights I've spent in bed recently! Meg Cabot is right when she affirms: "It's a delicious treat you'll want to eat up in a single bite!". 

 
The eponymous Della is a wonderfully rounded, engaging, believable girl with all the dreams and anxieties that accompany any teenager. With her liberal-minded parents (her Dad is a scream) and her older sister jetting off to the States, Della is delighted when the gorgeous Dan, whom she has lusted after since he gave her some crayons aged four, finally asks her out.

But that's when the madness starts. During her sister's going away party - somewhere between the bit where her sister's boyfriend sticks his tongue down her throat, and the bit when she decides to kiss Dan for the first time, Della's Diary goes missing. And even though she's now got the delightful Dan to take her mind off of it's whereabouts, it's not until pages... extremely embarrassing pages... of it start turning up on Facebook and other places that she really begins to worry who's got it. And why. And she starts to doubt everyone. Even her best friend, Maddy and the perfectly wonderful Dan.

"Della Says: OMG!" Is a rollercoaster ride from start to end. I seriously didn't want it to finish. The writing is sparkling, upbeat, very, very funny and the conversations between the characters is just so convincing it makes you want to read them over and over again and wish you were right there with them.

Keris Stainton is a name to watch out for - a bright, new voice in teenage fiction and if you like your characters believable, familiar and refreshingly honest, then you HAVE to read "Della Says:OMG!" You won't be disappointed. 

Oh, and the pretty fabulous Keris Stainton will be appearing HERE - yes, here - as a part of her Blog tour and subsequent world domination - on Tuesday 4th May - that's next Tuesday - answering some quick fire questions and telling us a bit more about herself and her writing, and about "Della Says: OMG!" 

So, it's a date, okay?

So - I have Agent-related News

Remember that e-mail from Agent 2 (ignore the James Bond connotations, bear with me) asking me where I was based? And my reply of ‘rather too near the ceiling to catch my breath’?
Well as it’d been a good four weeks since he learnt of my proximity to Luton, I decided that the “No News is Good News” maxim was stretching it a bit and he was probably so unstuffed about letting me down gently that he couldn’t be arsed or else he was still trying to hone a cleverly-worded rejection.
Fledgling writers have rather less optimism than your average person. That’s why we’re fledgling. Like struggling baby birds who want the wings but haven’t quite got the strength behind them to take on the flight we desperately crave.
Although I did allow myself just one other last glimmer of hope and that was the London Book Fair (thank you, Deborah Durbin for once again showing me the end of your particularly encouraging wand, illuminating this fact and time spent being swallowed up by this annual event). Bide my time, my friendly witch calmed me. Bide. I’m good at biding.
Then lo and behold an e-mailed arrived not a few days later. (She’s GOOD).
Which should have come with with an oxygen mask attachment for all the breath I could draw. And I still never open my eyes for a few seconds if I see an Agent's name. I used to be like this with the National Lottery draw – and since we don’t’ do it anymore, we’ve ‘won’ £52.00 on it in the last 12 months (yeah?) I’m still like it with Deal or No Deal. But I’m digressing.
And if Digressing could secure me a book deal I’d be on par with Barbara Cartland by now.
I double clicked. I couldn’t even read it. Just scanned the reply.
Which was not brief by any means. And my first reaction was ‘great – not only does he not like it anymore, he’s going to tell me precisely why he doesn’t like it which will render me and “it” useless in the face of re-subbing in the future because it’s ALL WRONG and CRAP and other words associated with the word ‘Reject’.
*wail*
*inward wail but audible from where I’m sitting*
But... Agent 2 was saying that he still likes the book, it has “a brilliant voice” (not in a Katherine Jenkins way) and a “great concept” and said he'd asked his colleague to have a read who’d made a list of comments, observations, suggestions - who also said  it was “enjoyable, light-hearted and fun”.
I like her.
Woo hoo!
Then I read the list and thought my head would explode starting with a slow bleed from the eyeballs. And after being scraped off the virtual ceiling by my amazing friend, Keris, who is always the first person I turn to at times like... well, every time actually - I re-read it a thousand times and on the thousandth and one time, the magnitude felt less extreme and it all felt a lot less scary.
So, even though the work on it could amount to days - weeks perhaps, of re-writing and re-planning and undoing and unpicking and re-stitching and maybe even a load-bearing wall knocking through with the help of a literary JCB, it IS do-able.
Without affecting the storyline and without compromising the integrity and humour of my lovely lovely characters who I breathed life into and without whom my own life would be so much less fun.
And we all know what come to the Bear who Bides, don’t we?
Oh, and did I forget to mention that I finished my time-travelly book this week too? I did? Well, I did. As you can see from the word-count-ometer thingy over there. So now I have another baby who just needs a nice tidy up and a bit of adorning here and there before she, too, is allowed to see the light of the slushpile. Ah… I knew there was a Ma Walton in me somewhere – I just didn’t plan on the labour pains being quite so protracted!

I am *here*

I don't actually remember The Day I decided I wanted to write.  And I don't mean  because I had to hand an essay in.  I mean because I really, really *wanted to*, I really, really *needed* to and I really actually couldn't stop.   It was at school, I have no doubt about that and it can't have been anything my parents said to encourage me because, well, they just didn't.  It was my Primary teacher, Mr East who inspired me initially - and elevated my love of books after he read The Hobbit to an enthralled class of nine year olds, myself included. And for years after,  I thought Frodo and Bilbo Baggins lived in the spinney at the bottom of a lane in our village.  Okay then, I still do.

When I went to Middle school, it was the very loud (clothes-wise -  he wore deep green velvet suits and very wide ties which were de rigeur in the 70's but  quite fey in hindsight) and very fresh-faced Mr Howard who taught Art (no surprise there) along with English who encouraged me endlessley.  On my last day at middle school  he wrote in my autograph book "remember to send me a signed copy of your first book" and I fairly floated all summer on the high that someone had that kind of faith in me.  I will track him down *when* my day arrives too, see - teachers - the good ones, we never forget you
I can skip a couple of decades before I arrive at where I am *now* because they could be called the Dark Years.  Writing happened, of course it did.  But it was never shown the light of day, or another human being's critical gaze.  Especially the parents.  Love letters, love poems, songs, Fawlty Towers scripts, four-act plays, letters to the BBC telling them Terry Wogan was rubbish and they should hire me instead (hmm - see me sobbing 20 years later  as he says farewell on his last radio show) and two very well-received Best Man (rhyming) Speeches. I wrote short short stories, edited company magazines, wrote feature length articles for trade press and even got given a whole Advertising and PR Department once - just because I had to write, no matter what it was about. (Actually, there's only so much literary license that can be found in a machine that shrink wraps cola bottles - but by God, I found it!).

And now, dear reader, I am writing books.  I have written three. I'm writing a fourth.   I never thought I'd ever be able to say that.  I have written three books.  The fact that they aren't on shelves in bookstores (yet) does not make me any less a writer than our Enid or our J.K. I go to bed with a book in my hand and another in my head.  I wake up having written the next chapter or found the next idea.  When I'm at the (paid) work I am writing the next scene in my mind and can't wait to get back to commit it to screen.
And I surround myself with incredible people who all feel the same way and who all want the same thing and who all love the written word as much as I do.  And the encouragement and support and advice and honest-to-god feedback I get from these wonderful writerly people is my lifeblood.  I would not be where I am today (*here*) without them, that's for sure.  And I certainly couldn't go on without knowing that they're around. Some are fledglings, some are newly-agented, some are about to be published for the first time and some are real life Bestselling authors already.  I feel honoured and privileged to know them and to be a part of their wonderful lives and thank them for letting me be a part of theirs.
You know who you are!
And if my dreams never materialise for whatever reason, I just wanted to announce - today - that I'm somewhere right now I never dreamed I would be.
It's good.
I'm *Here*

OMG! WTF! Am Writing!

As regulars will have gleaned, recently I have been experiencing what I can only describe as a slump of near-catastrophic proportions. I compare it with gamely attempting to scale the north side of the highest mountain of treacle whilst wearing welly-boots and not a whole lot else. And without the Kendal mint cake.
But this evening, after a good old fashioned but very gently aimed arse-kick from my lovely fellow-writer Michele (everyone home should have one) and great advice from Fionnuala I have sat at the scary box and drummed out 1087 words. Which is good for recently. In fact recently I've been deleting more than adding. Which is pants, frankly.
If I want to die unpublished and unfulfilled then I know what (not) to do. But I don't.
There are probably morals, quotes I should be trying to find to illustrate precisely what I'm trying to say, but at 74,000 words and finding everything getting thrillier (see - I can still make words up!) by the second, I am on that helter-skelter of prose that means my fingers can't cope with the amount of literary sh*t that's trying to escape my overwrought brain with every misplaced apostrophe (sorry, Bege).
Don't stop me now - I'm having such a good time!
Of course this won't stop the hideous procrastination, I bet.