Rowan Coleman's Writing Blog

2010-08-17T06:04:00.001-07:00

Sporadic blogger that I am I felt the time has come to write a new one to mark the publication of my new book THE HAPPY HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS, to celebrate the launch of my new website www.rowancoleman.co.uk and because its almost time to announce the winner of Rowan Coleman's Short Story competition which means I really need to decided between my two favourite today!!

It is hard. Judging the 300 or so entries (with some help from the guest judges) gave me a whole new insight into what it might be like to be on the other side of the publication process. The person reading the submissions and making the decisions.

First of all, there are a lot of truly talented people out there. The standard of stories submitted was generally really high, and I know that every one always says that - but in this case I promise you it was true.

Having said that I also realised that people tend to want to write about the same thing. There were a lot of funerals, quite a lot of prison, and much dwelling on death. There was a large helping of sex and violence and quite a bit of romance. This isn't to say these stories weren't good, two of my most favourite that have got into the top eight were prison and funeral stories. Besides I think people also tend to want to read about the same thing, the human condition - so I didn't hold that against anyone.

And of course its subjective. Its my opinion that counts. That's quite a responsibility. There were some stories that were so well written, but I just couldn't warm to them. I could see the technical skill, the ability, the talent. But they didn't reach me in the way I want my winning story too. Which makes me feel awful, because I don't know any writer who hasn't had the feedback at one time or another that goes something like 'its good, its just not doing it for me.' Its kind of frustrating, to say the least!

So I have two stories sitting on my desk. One will be the winner, one will win second place (the other places are already decided) I have to decide, there are no two ways about it. The question is which?

Like Bees to Honey - Caroline Smailes' blog tour, Chapter 7

2010-05-19T13:28:00.000-07:00

I am delighted to be hosting chapter seven of my friend and brilliant writer Caroline Smailes Blog Tour to support the publication of her new novel Like Bees to Honey.

I don't know another writer like Caroline. She is truly gifted and unique, her imagination and originality is boundless.

If you haven't discovered her yet, I urge you too!

Open publication - Free publishing

You can buy Bees to Honey here:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Like-Bees-Honey-Caroline-Smailes/dp/0007356366/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1273227630&sr=1-1

Find chapter one of Caroline's blog here:

http://www.carolinesmailes.co.uk/blog

And read the next chapter here:

http://livelovelearnwrite.wordpress.com/

Rowan Coleman's Short Story Competition.

2010-04-13T01:37:00.000-07:00

My writing career started after I won a short story writing competition in Company Magazine. A lot of people don't believe that that's what started it, because prior to entering that competition I worked in bookselling and then publishing for the best part of a decade. You must have had help, people think. Its all about the people you know, others say. But the truth was that even though I worked around books all that time, and even though I wrote in my spare time, if anything, working in publishing put me off trying to write professionally because I saw how hard it was to get published back then, and then how hard it was to stay published. And if it was hard then its nearly impossible now.

I was an Editorial Manager for Ebury Press, my job consisted of managing data, inputting ISBNs, commissioning artwork and chasing editors for stuff they should have done but hadn't. As a consequence I'd spot an editor at their desk across the office and invariably, between me setting off and arriving they'd vanish into thin air (or underneath a desk). It wasn't a job that made me popular....but still, I enjoyed it. I liked my little office (when I started I literally in a cupboard, but time I left I'd got moved to one that a window that overlooked a brick wall) and I liked the people. I learnt a lot about publishing there and I think I would have quite happily have stayed in that job and moved on in publishing without ever really having the guts to try and write professionally myself. And then I accidentally entered a short story competition.

One of the good things about my job was that nobody understood it, especially the data management bit, so I could quite happily shut the door of my office and get on with writing, whilst pretending I was ever so busy and that it was all really hard. One morning I was flicking through a copy of Company Magazine when I came across the competition. The story could be about anything you liked, it had to be 2000 words long. And that was it. I glanced around, it looked liked everyone was hiding from me, I was up-to-date with all my work so I thought, why not. I thought I'd give it a go, even though at that stage I wasn't really serious about sending it in. I came up with a story about a parallel universe where women aspired to be fat. No matter how she tried, my main character just couldn't put in weight, and so never felt attractive. I finished it, read it through, corrected all the mistakes I spotted (which weren't nearly all of them) and on an impulse put it in an envelope and sent it off to Company. Then I forgot about it.

I'm not sure how many months went by, but I think it was about four. And then one Saturday morning I woke up to the sound of a letter dropping through the door. I was a bit confused to see the logo for Company on the letter head, I wondered if I'd applied to a job and this was a rejection letter....then my eyes focused and I read the letter. It was telling me I'd won their Young Writer of the Year Competition. I'd actually won it...out of several thousand entrants, they'd picked me to win. My prize was the have the story printed in the magazine, a years worth supply of books and lunch with a publisher and agent. As you can imagine I was very excited. I danced about a lot, called everyone I knew...who congratulated me and then reminded me that it was only 8.30 on a Saturday morning. But still, even then I didn't really think it would lead to anything.

I duly went off and a very nice lunch with the then editor of Company, Sam Baker, the publisher in question and a charming agent at The Ivy. It was very exciting, all I remember at the time the most exciting thing was being in the next cubicle from Lulu in the ladies (is that wrong?) I had a very nice lunch and lot of really amazing feedback and advice. And it made think for the first that maybe, just maybe, I could be writer.

Lunch at the the Ivy with (almost) Lulu aside, what winning that competition really did for me was to give me confidence to try. I've met a lot of aspiring writers in the last nine years who have asked me what my top tip for getting published is and I always say write, because if you don't write you've got no chance. But apart from that, and essential component you need is the confidence to try.

I would really love to give the same opportunities I had to another aspiring writer out there which is why I've decided to run my very own short story competition to celebrate the forthcoming publication of my eight novel THE HAPPY HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS.

My latest novel is about young widow Ellen Woods who's sheltered life as a wife and mother comes crashing to an end when her beloved husband is killed in an accident. Faced with financial ruin the only way Ellen can keep a roof over her and her eleven year old son, Charlie's head, is to take in lodgers.

In a matter or weeks Ellen's safe little world is changed beyond recognition and she's faced with the prospect of starting over again, and finding the strength to move on.

And so if you want to enter ROWAN COLEMAN'S SHORT STORY COMPETITION I'd like you write a story of 1000 words approximate on the theme of 'Starting Over.'

It must be a completely new and original work that has not previously been published, even on your blog. This is a competition for aspiring, as yet unpublished writers who do no have a contract or an agent.

and now for the bit I'm really excited about - the prizes!!

FIRST PRIZE: 3 months creative writing online mentoring from Rowan Coleman, Tea and Cakes at Random House Publishing with Arrow Publishing Director Kate Elton and Rowan Coleman, a letter of introduction and agent feedback from David Higham Associates, £100 to spend on Random House books, your story to be published on Rowan Coleman's blog/website and a signed copy of THE HAPPY HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS.

SECOND PRIZE: 1 months creative writing online mentoring from Rowan Coleman, £50 book vouchers to spend on Random House books and the story to be posted on my blog and a signed copy of THE HAPPY HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS.

THIRD PRIZE: £25 Worth of vouchers to spend on Random House books and the story to be posted on my website and a signed copy of THE HAPPY HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS.

ALSO five runners up prizes each winning a signed copy THE HAPPY HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS.

The competition will be judges by Rowan Coleman, Lucy Diamond, Cally Taylor, Tamsyn Murray and Caroline Smailes. Rowan Coleman will have the final decision.

All entries MUST be sent to rowanswritingcomp@btinternet.com

PLEASE READ THESE RULES CAREFULLY!

By entering ROWAN COLEMAN'S SHORT STORY COMPETITION, you agree to be bound by the following terms and conditions;

1. Competition closing date is FRIDAY 16TH JULY 2010. Entries received after this date will not be entered into the competition. The promoter does not accept any responsibility for lost or late entries. Proof of sending will not be accepted as proof of receipt.

2. Only entries received by e-mail will be accepted. Entries will not be returned. Send your fictional story of no more than 1000 words on the theme of ''Starting Over” to:

rowanswritingcomp@btinternet.com

Your story must be sent in a word attachment and will be scanned for viruses and bugs before it is opened. Your document must be double spaced, Times New Roman, 12 point font and pages must be numbered. Please include the title but NOT your name on your story. Please attach a separate cover sheet that includes the following: the title of your story, word count, your name, address, email address and telephone number. Only entries will be accepted at this e-mail address, no other correspondence will be read.
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The competition is only open to residents of the UK and Ireland who have not had a novel or short story collection published and/or do not have a publishing contract. Only one entry per person will be accepted.
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You warrant that your story is original to you and does not infringe the legal right of any other party. You warrant that your story has not previously been published in print, on the internet or in any other format throughout the world.
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Entries will be read anonymously by Rowan Coleman, Lucy Diamond, Cally Taylor, Tamsyn Murray and Caroline Smailes who will provide a short-list of twenty stories. Rowan Coleman will make the final decision and select three prizewinners (1st, 2nd and 3rd) and five runners up. The results of the competition will be posted on this blog by August 19th 2010.
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The winning three stories will be published on this blog where they will remain online at the discretion of Rowan Coleman. Copyright in the stories will be retained by the authors who grant to the promoter a non-exclusive licence to use extracts from the work to publicise and promote the competition, the website, Rowan Coleman and/or “The Happy Home for Broken Hearts”.
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All prize winners will be contacted by email by 19th August 2010. The prize winners must respond within 14 days to accept their prize. (FIRST PRIZE: 3 months creative writing online mentoring from Rowan Coleman, Tea and Cakes at Random House Publishing with Arrow Publishing Director Kate Elton and Rowan Coleman, a letter of introduction and agent feedback from David Higham Associates, £100 to spend on Random House books, your story to be published on Rowan Coleman's blog/website and a signed copy of THE HAPPY HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS. SECOND PRIZE: 1 months creative writing online mentoring from Rowan Coleman, £50 book vouchers to spend on Random House books and the story to be posted on my blog and a signed copy of THE HAPPY HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS. THIRD PRIZE: £25 Worth of vouchers to spend on Random House books and the story to be posted on my website and a signed copy of THE HAPPY HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS.) No cash alternatives to these prizes will be made available.
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Prize winners attending a one-on-one consultation will be required to take up their prize before 31 December 2010 and to pay for their own transportation to Random House. The date of the one-on-one consultation will be arranged by Rowan Coleman. Alternatively, a phone appointment may be arranged for prize winners unable to travel to the promoter.
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Entering or winning the competition does not guarantee an offer of representation from David Higham Associates or publication by the Random House Group.
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The judges’ decision is final and no correspondence will be entered into. A full list of judges and prize winners may be made available on request.
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The promoter reserves the right to withdraw or amend this competition at any time without notice.
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The promoter is Rowan Coleman in association with Random House
20 Vauxhall Bridge Rd
London SW1v 2SA

Ghosts and Memories

2010-02-23T04:53:00.000-08:00

Recently a lot of people having been asking me if I have ever seen a ghost or if I believe in ghosts, because of the publication my new paranormal thriller for teen NEARLY DEPARTED. Its about a group of fifteen year olds in the urban inner city who are forced to come face to face with the supernatural that surrounds and threatens them.

When people ask me either of those questions I always answer yes, yes I believe I have seen a ghost and yes, as a consequence, I believe that ghosts are real. By that I don't just mean the remnants of a living soul somehow left imprinted in time, but also the ghosts of memories, or events and history that have had such a deep and vibrant effect on their surroundings that they leave indelible traces all around them.

I like to collect old things and objects and in my office I have a small collection of items that when I picked them up resonated with the lives that they have past through. A music box from the 1930s, a water colour of Venice from the 1900s, a flamboyant Art Deco vase, a small evening bag from the late 1890s, some jet Victorian mourning jewellery, and a tiny 1920s diamond ring amongst other things. None of them have very much intrinsic value but when I found them in some flea market or antique shop I felt them vibrate with life, with memories. Once eighty years ago someone sat in the shade of a Venetian alley and laboured over recreating that sunny morning, white washing hung across a canal, against a hot blue sky. When I look at that painting I see not only the painting, but also the painter, I feel the sun on the back his neck, the sweat trickling down his back. I imagine he is a young man, seeing a little of Europe before life proper begins. I'm not psychic, I don't know that - no long dead painter has dropped by to fill me in. But old things fire my imagination, spinning stories all around them. I imagine the heart fluttering delight that someone must have felt when her beloved presented her with that little diamond thing, fitted for a finger much slimmer than mine. Perhaps it was an engagement ring or maybe a token of secret love, but in any event how its owner must have treasured it, perhaps not sleeping at all that night, dreaming of the promise of a new life the gift of that little ring brought with it.

Best of all I love my Art Deco vase. It doesn't have any value, but it used to belong to my grandmother. She must have had it from new, perhaps it was a wedding present. I can see it sitting on a polished table filled with flowers. My grandparents didn't have much, they were a working class couple - but she cared for her vase and filled it with flowers all of her adult life and now when I look at it I see my grandmother, not as the lovely wonderful old lady that I knew in my childhood but as a young woman, starting out married life, her first ever vase on her first ever table in her very own dining room. I think, I feel, when I look at her vase, that she must have been very proud.

For the same reason I love looking at old photographs. Nothing is sadder than coming across a album full of photographs languishing in an auction house or a antique shop. I look at those faces staring back at me, often in their sunday best, features composed, hair brushed and faces washed and I feel sorry that there is no-one left to remember their names, to remember who married who or who grew up to do what and how many children they had. A proud young man in a uniform with no-one left to remember if he ever made it home again, if old age ever touched that youthful face. Turn the page of an abandoned album and you are confronted with moment after frozen moment of lost lives and sometimes if you look hard enough you can see the room behind the lense, discern that almost smile that some long gone child has been instructed to suppress.

And sometimes, in an ancient building or an old house when you walk where hundreds of others have walked over decades, sometimes centuries or put you hands on a stair rail or a stone wall that has steadied many hands you can sense the memories of those that have walked there before you, their minds preoccupied with the same worries and hopes that preoccupy us as we go about our daily lives and which one day will also only be memories, ghosts and smudged fingerprints that maybe, some day, someone passing by might wonder and guess at.

I do believe in ghosts, I have seen one. But you don't need a paranormal experience to find ghosts all around you, just look and listen hard enough and you will find them.

Staff

2010-01-18T07:48:00.000-08:00

Well I said that the next time I blog it will be about puppies and shoes and it is sort of, although my puppy is six years old and the shoe in question is mostly in her stomach. It's not her fault, her dog walker's had flu and she's been cooped up for a bit, so I forgive her, plus it wasn't one of my very best ones and now I have a reason to buy a new pair.

It made me think though how reliant I have had to become on paying people to help me out. I used to tease a friend of mine about her 'staff' telling her she was a proper lady of the manor - but actually I employ quite a lot of people now. It's not that I am lazy or rich - I am actually the opposite of those things. Its just that there are only a certain number of waking hours in every day (although my baby thinks there are considerably more than I do).

When I do have some time when I am not trying to write a book with a baby on my knee whilst singing him my version of Copacabana (where everyone loves a banana) I don't want to clean the house. I want to play with my baby and little girl, talk at length with her over every single dance move of The High School Musical trilogy and bake some cakes or something! After all I also pay people to look after my eight year old three afternoons a week after school and very soon my baby will be starting part-time at nursery. This is not the way I want it, this is the way it is. Granted I have my dream job, a job I love most of the time - but like most working mums I also have the bills and the mortgage to pay - still I do feel wracked with guilt on a daily basis, and what spare time I have is play time not dusting time. So I have a lady who comes and cleans for me. Apart from anything else it means I tidy up at least once a week in preparation for her arrival, which has got to be a good thing.

Why do I need a dog walker, you might ask? Walking a dog is fun - and at weekends I do walk her and I love it, although recently she has taken to making flying leaps into the canal for no apparent reason, which always results in drama because she seems to be the only dog on earth who can't do the doggy paddle and results in another trip to the groomers (I pay someone to groom my dog too). but during the week i rarely get time to give her the exercise she needs. I have recently exchanged one dog walker for another. My first a surly teen who grew more monosyllabic as each week passed announced his retirement grimly just before Christmas - he has plans of becoming a rock star - I don't think walking a poodle did his cred any good. His replacement is the same age but a good deal bouncier, much like the dog. I also pay for a personal trainer -I need to be shouted at, I'm not naturally drawn toward training shoes as they tend not to have kitten heels - and yet I still don't seem to have the body of Angelina Jolie though....

If my budget as endless what else would I pay people do for me?

Pick up my clothes and hang them up. By the end of the day I'm exhausted - that clothes hanger just seems like a step too far.
Take my make-up off and apply a night cream - see above.
Drive me places. I don't like driving. I didn't learn until I was 35, its just seems wrong to be all these big hunks of metal whizzing along a high speed. I do like being a passenger though, that's one of my best things.
Shoulder massage. One a day would seem like a bare minimum.
Deliver flowers daily - a bunch of tulips always gives me a lift.
Cook me healthy fresh food - I'm fairly sure the microwave doesn't count.
Produce chocolate at a moment's notice.

Twelve Months in the Life of....

2010-01-09T03:14:00.000-08:00

Funny how the last time I wrote something here, almost a year ago, it was also snowing. I'd spent the morning rolling around in it with my dog and my daughter and I still feel pretty much the same way about snow today as I did then. I am fully over it. And that really is the only thing over the last year that hasn't changed.

I suppose if anyone has troubled to come back to this blog over the last few months they'll be wondering why I haven't posted anything here for so long. Perhaps they'll think I've been too busy, or I couldn't be bothered or that I'd given up writing all together. The truth is that when ever I sat down to blog, I've reflected on everything that has changed in my life over the past few months and I've been speechless - or more accurately wordless. I've found it impossible to describe until now.

For starters it is almost a year since I became divorced. This isn't something that I feel I can write about here - its too personal, but for some months instead of writing about emotional turmoil I've been living it. I was my decision, if there is anyone to blame it is me - I want to say that, but that's all.

In February of this year my last book THE ACCIDENTAL FAMILY was published. It was a book I'd been meaning to write for a long time - a sequel to THE ACCIDENTAL MOTHER a book that several readers who had enjoyed that book had asked for, both in the UK and America. It sold into accounts well - everybody was optimistic - but the the book didn't do quite as well as previous titles. Perhaps because it was published in a dark depressing February when the credit crunch was really starting to bite, perhaps because in retrospect the title and the cover didn't work as well as they could or perhaps because it simply wasn't good enough. But in any case, it shook my confidence. I'd written it during a very emotionally turbulent time struggling to write about things that were in someways the exact opposite of what I was experiencing in my daily life.

Last year was also the year of being pregnant. I can't say that I loved being pregnant - I don't think I suit it especially and with all the other ups and downs and stresses going on around me it wasn't exactly an idyllic time. But my baby son is here now and he is wonderful. He and my daughter are a constant source of joy. Writing when you are pregnant is a curious thing. Its almost like someone has peeled off a layer of your skin, as if your nerve endings are exposed to the world. You feel everything more keenly, joy more intensely, sadness more deeply. Every day, every hour, from minute to minute is a roller coaster of emotion. But the words keep flowing, the ideas keep coming, its a very creative time, a time of creation - and of acid reflux - there's a lot of acid reflux too.

I've moved house twice last year too. Firstly into a rented house which felt a little less comfortable that camping in a leaking tent in the pouring rain during the winter in a peat bog. And I had to pay almost a thousand pounds a month for the privilege. And then into my new house, which is lovely but brand, brand new and taking some settling into. And also there are those annoying little things - like the fact that once you move into it, it's all full of stuff that needs putting away. Must get round to that sometime...

Which brings me to the practical reason that I haven't blogged here for so long. In amongst all of the other things that I have been doing I've also written two and a half books. THE MAKING OF ELLIE WOODS which will be published in April 2010, and its American edition which will be called A HOME FOR BROKEN HEARTS out in September 2010. Also my teen supernatural novel NEARLY DEPARTED written under the name of Rook Hastings which is out next month and half of its follow up novel IMMORTAL REMAINS which will be out next September. I've also planned and will soon be starting work a new novel for adults to be published in 2011, its an idea that I am really excited about.

So that is it. I don't suppose the last year has been any more or any less difficult or tumultuous than the average persons, and there have been some wonderful moments in amongst all the difficult ones. And from now on I'm going to try and blog here more regularly and I promise that the next thing I write will be about shoes and puppies. Seriously.

Snowdrops on lashes

2009-02-05T07:57:00.000-08:00

My writing schedule works on one simple basis. I can get all the work I need to done on time as long as ABSOLUTELY nothing happens. This includes no illnesses, no power cuts, no Internet interference, no car break downs, no impulse trips to the shops to buy spam because for the first time since 1978 i fancy spam (the canned spiced ham, younger readers, not the nuisance electronic mail), no unexpected and lengthy phone calls from beloved but verbose friends who like to tell you long stories about people you don't know and finally and most importantly NO SNOW.

Monday morning 7a.m wake to find world carpeted in a glittering garland of snow. 7.15 Lily my seven year old little girl wakes up.
'Look out of the window!' I whisper, all agog.
'Oh yeah, snow,' she says decidedly unimpressed, which is a symptom of her going on her first skiing holiday with her dad over Christmas. It appears that a seven year old can experience a surfeit of snow.
'I means your school will probably be shut,' I tell her.
'Does that mean I can watch telly all day?'
'I know, lets build a snowman!'
'Can I have a packet of skips.'
It's 7.30 in the morning you can't have a packet of skips.'
'Then why are you even thinking of building a snowman?'

And so it goes on. Anyway a couple of hours later and suitably girded, Lily in her skiing all in one suit (more of that later) me in a pair of leaky boots and a sheepskin coat that an eighties premiership manager would have rejected.
'Let's make a really big snowman,' Lily says enthusiastically.
'Yay, lets!' I am prepared for a mother/daughter magic moment.
'You make it, I'll watch.
Lily does not watch. Lily rolls around in the snow. I am quite charmed by her rolling around in the snow so forgive her for abandoning the snowman project before its even begun. However it soon becomes apparent that under the lovely fresh snow she was rolling around was a message. A message left by a particularly large dog. (NOT mine. I am a responsible owner)
Gingerly we go in. Have you ever tried to peel an all in one ski suit plastered with poo off of a near hysterical child. You must try it. It's a blast.
So we had an extra day together and it was lovely, poo aside. And we had Tuesday (Lovely) and now Thursday (LOVELY) and it looks like probably Friday too. And I love her being at home. She is a great laugh, she's funny and smart and great company. She's not that keen on my working though when she's around and neither am I. I'm so busy most of the time that when she is here I want to be with her. So my precariously balanced schedule slips back a week.
Not to mention my lack of wardrobe. I have a small house. My house is so small that literally the whole thing would fit in the hallway of my friends house (Think flashy new build faux Georgian, fake pillared, gated community stoke broker pile). I'm short of storage so reluctantly I decided to sell my lovely Edwardian oak wardrobe and get a fitted one from Sharpe's. For two weeks now my clothes have been piled up on my tiny office floor waiting for the new roomy wardrobes to come. I have been writing (or not) amid a cacophony of frocks, a confection of underwear, a hails of hats and a pile of shoes that nearly reaches the ceiling. (My house is small but there is always room for shoes.) Today was D day. Today my super dooper new wardrobes were due to be fitted but they did not come. Why?

SNOW.

I am so over snow.

2008-10-23T02:10:00.000-07:00

It's been a very long time since I blogged last - months and months in fact and a lot in my life has changed since then, but then that's the nature of life isn't it? Nothing ever stays the same.

One of the reasons I've been quite on the blogging front is because I have been so busy on the writing front, working to get my new book ready for publication in February. I am just about there now, only page proofs to read and then ta-da! There's the book all finished. Its a bit like childbirth, in a very small way in that as soon as you see it you forget all the pain and angst of producing it and want to do it all over again.

To be fair the kind of book I write isn't really as prone to pain and angst as most people, how artistic can one get over a romantic/dramatic/comedy? I'm not Proust after all, if I smell cake all I want to do is eat it.

I am hover, now sort of a Russian Novelist in that last week I got the Russian translation of THE ACCIDENTAL MOTHER. I love getting foreign language translations - although in this case I really, really wish I could read Russian because the text is actually annotated with asterisks and extra explanations and I'd love to know which bits! If any one reading this happens to be fluent in Russian please do let me know....

Also last week ANOTHER MOTHER'S LIFE - which is the U.S title for THE ACCIDENTAL WIFE - was published in America and by all accounts its doing quite well and is to be put on a list called The Indie Next Notable Book list in December, which is great news. It's such a thrill for me to think of my books being read in other countries, or at all by anyone anywhere. I will never stop feeling privileged to have this job.

So now I have three books at page proof stage which, purely coincidentally as they all different publishers, will all be out in February 2009. THE ACCIDENTAL FAMILY - the sequel to THE ACCIDENTAL MOTHER, when you can find out what happened next to Sophie, Louis and the girls, RUBY PARKER SHOOTING STAR, the fifth and penultimate book in the Ruby series, where Ruby braves Hollywood again and MOMMY BY MISTAKE which is the US title for THE BABY GROUP.

And by the end of this year I will have started my new children's paranormal series called WELCOME TO WEIRDSVILLE and early next year I'll be starting my new women's novel, which is Top Secret at the moment but I can't wait to start it.

So here I am, back blogging, dipping my toe in the water once again and hoping to be much more present here over the next weeks and months...ONWARDS!

The Injustice of Judges

2008-05-21T07:35:00.000-07:00

God knows I hate to be judged, but the thing about being a writer is that you are essentially inviting the whole world to judge you, should they feel inclined to. In fact you are rather hoping that at least some of the world will want to judge you, and that a percentage of them will rule in your favour.

On the whole I'm fairly immune to the judgements of others. For example I wear what I like, which is usually party wear even if its a rainy Monday morning and I'm taking my daughter to school. Like the lead character in the book I am writing I'm 'a woman who enjoys a sequin on a weekday and has a rule that the the heels of my shoes should never dwindle below three inches.' Subsequently some peole look at me a little askance on the school run, but what do I care? The answer is I don't. Life is too short for sensible shoes and a raincoat.

So me, judge me all you like - I can take it. But please DO NOT JUDGE MY DOG.

Yes this blog is all about my dog not winning HAPPIEST DOG category at the local dog show last weekend. Its a travesty.

My dog, Polly is a standard poodle. She's not a poodlefied poodle, she doesn't have the poodle hair cut, she rolls about in mud and likes to steal food - just now she stole an entire packet of fresh Parmesan out of the fridge is even now sleeping it off on the sofa murmuring Italian in her dreams. She would never win crufts. She was the decided runt of the litter, a good deal smaller than she should be, with buck teeth and a wonky eye. And well....lets put it this way I used to take her to puppy training classes but she got expelled for leading the other puppies astray.

I have never planned a life of dog show glory for her. But when my little girl begged me to take her to the local dog show where there were categories like 'Prettiest eyes' and 'Best rescue dog' I had to relent.

'Polly will definitely win 'Happiest Dog, Mummy,' my daughter cried. 'Look at her!'

And at the time she was snacking on one of my best shoes and she did look pretty pleased with herself, so I thought why not?

I should have known that we weren't going to fit in when the man on the registration desk looked at me wrestling Polly to a standstill and asked me 'Does she behave?'
'Yes she does,' I informed him tartly. Because it was true, of course she 'behaves' as long as you are non-specific as to type of behaviour then you cannot deny that she 'behaves' only it is usually quite badly.

Also I didn't have the right uniform on. Yes it was a county dog show, but I thought it was more for fun and fundraising than anything. I didn't know that a wellington boot and a barber jacket were obligatory. I thought a gold sling back and a red summerfrock would be fine. Plus whilst we were waiting for our class to come on an ice cream was dropped and Polly rather smartly helped save the environment by polishing it off - leaving her with ice creamed smeared chops that only just surpassed that of my daughters.

So eventually it was our turn to line up to be judged. Me, my dog and daughter stood in line with spaniels and dobermans, collies and Labradors, mongrels and pure breeds and I'm thinking this is a cinch - we are defiantly going win - sure these dogs look happy but my dog is the only one jumping up and down and barking and you can't get happier than that.

The judge approached us, I wanted to ask her how she quantified happiness in a pet, was it a look in their eye, the cock of a tail or tilt of an ear or was it that they were literally jumping for joy - because that was what my dog was doing, edging her far ahead of the field I'd say.

Only I didn't get a chance to ask her because before I could Polly put her front paws on the judges shoulders and licked her face all over.

'She's happy to see you,' I said enthusiastically. The judge did not smile back.

We waited for a long time while she frowned and looked up and down the lines of dogs. There were six prizes. Polly didn't even get one.

And that my friends, is a travesty. I demand an enquiry.

Publication Palpitations

2008-04-23T04:24:00.000-07:00

So its finally here, the eve of the official UK publication of THE ACCIDENTAL WIFE. Thursday 24th April 2008.

I've written about this before, but oh well - let's talk about it again. This part, the publication part is a bit like waiting for a boy to call you. Yes, its the nearest thing I can think of to being a teenager in love, once again. You know, when you're not sure if you are going to get that call you've been longing for to be asked out to the youth club disco by the boy from the year above, where you will both stand on opposite sides of the room until the slow dance at the end of night, where upon you will magnetically connect at the mouth and snog for three and half minutes without even coming up for air until 'Careless Whisper' is finished and you have to retreat to the opposite sides of the room again and ignore each other.

Okay - its not EXACTLY like that. But it is exciting, pulse thunderingly nerve wracking, stomach twistingly scary and also, some of the time, bewilderingly anticlimactic.

I think that that last part is because publication day is a bit like - and oh I am loving my metaphors here today - losing your virginity once a year. The deed is done, and you feel as if something about you should have changed. There should be fireworks, a certain look in you eye, perhaps a particular knowing wisdom should alight you. You should be able to walk down the street and have people point and stare and say 'Look - she's written a book, you can tell just by looking at her.'

But its not REALLY like that, either. It's really like sending your child off to school on their first day. (metaphor number three, I'm counting) You are full of hope and pride and you just pray you've done enough to help them hold their own in the big bad world.

Still, as emotionally turbulent as the whole process is, there isn't a single moment I don't thank my lucky stars that I have a 'publication day' at all. And really there is only one final eloquent, erudite, sophisticated phrase that can truly sum up how I am feeling. ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH!

Spring Fever

2008-03-14T03:22:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you but I genuinely do go a bit mad around this time of year. There's something about daffodils that make me a bit giddy and gives me the feeling that I should be off somewhere exotic, like Casablanca, sipping strong coffee, having adventures and not worrying about the consequences. After all in the scheme of things it wouldn't amount to a hill of beans.

But of course there are a few practical issues with running off to far flung places on a whim. The school run is one of them, plus we have to use up that half eaten packet of ham in the fridge by Thursday. This may be the female writers dilemma because like all working women, hang that, all women, we tend to have a lot of things to do. Dare I suggest, though, that for writers it might be even trickier. One minute we are busy working on a highly emotionally charged scene that may result in the climax of the novel and the next we are sorting socks, walking the dog, finding best teddy or searching for the remote.

Plus when you get to a certain age (about 10 plus)running around in daffodils is not considered seemly, especially if you don't happen to have dog or a child at hand to lend an air of respectability.

Why now? Why at this time of year do I feel restless and excited and uncertain and scared and glad to be scared? I don't know, maybe its the wind, maybe its the glimpses of blue sky after an age of grey. Perhaps its the promise of summer on a mild day or the glamour of the spring flowers making an appearance in my garden. Or maybe its because my new book is due to be published in April.

Yikes.

The truth, the whole truth...more or less.

2008-02-08T03:45:00.000-08:00

This week has been a fun week. On Monday I went to the Romantic Novelist Association Romantic Novel of The Year Award. Now as we all know by now, mainly because I have harped on about it at some length, I was longlisted but not shortlisted for this award. A fact which I am absolutely fine and not bitter about in the least little bit, in fact my support group leader (Longlisted But Not Shortlisted Romantic Novelists Annonymous) says I'll be over the rejection and dissapointment in plenty of time for next year. And actually when I got there I was partly glad that I wasn't shortlisted, because at least I didn't have the nerve wracking wait to find out who had won. It was a lovely event, Helen Lederer was head jusge and an extremely funny speaker and eventually the award went to Freya North, who is a very talented and deserving winner and donated her prize money to a cancer charity in memory of a friend, which was touching and admirable.

One thing you may not know about Romantic Novelists is that they party hard. In fact because I so rarely get to hang out with a group of them (Is there a collective noun for a group of Romantic Novelists? A small prize for anyone who can think of one.) I didn't know that they party hard. But no, the largely female company was very, very keen to get to the pub and I was sad that my commitment to the writing class I teach meant I could staying drinking long into the night with them. In fact one very famous and important RN left me a message the next day to say that her hangover was really, really awful. I shall not name names.

Later this week I went to Harper Collins to film an interview that will go on the new Ruby Parker website when it is launched. That was fun too, although the questions were hard and sometimes I had to think of interesting and child friendly answers rather than the flat out honest ones that first came to mind. If I'd have gone with my first impulse this is what the interview would have run like:

THEM 'What is your biggest regret?
ME 'My inability to wear a hipster jean.'
THEM 'What do you lay awake thinking about at night?'
ME 'Cheese'
THEM 'What is your idea of perfect happiness?'
ME 'Cheese on Toast'
THEM 'What was your most embarassing moment?'
ME 'Walking through Leicester Square in a wrap dress that had come undone and wondering why I was getting so many admiring glances (or looks of horror, depending on your POV)
THEM 'If you had a super power what would it be.'
ME 'Shopping. Oh no, wait - I have that super power already.'

If you want to see the answers I actually gave you will be able to see the interview on the new website up in March sometime I hope. I'll post a line when I have one. They don't involve cheese.

Crossed off the list!

2008-01-14T01:53:00.000-08:00

Well friends, I did not make the shortlist for the RNA Romantic Novel of the Year. The writers who did make are all excellent and very deserving and I was honestly so pleased to be on the long list in the first place.

I really feel it is an important award because it is the only one that recognises that writers of popular fiction and yes, even romantic fiction, put as much care and devotion into their work with just as much skill and talent as the far more widely critically recognised writers of literary fiction do. So Good luck to all on the shortlist from me.

Roll on Hot Cross Buns

2008-01-08T07:11:00.000-08:00

Well another Christmas has been tidied away, a surplus of chocolates and mince pies have been hefted on to high shelf and I have solemnly promised that I will not be getting the step ladder out to reach them (starting tomorrow.....) I find it such an odd time of year, everyone determined to be jolly and love each other when really actually its perhaps the most fiercely difficult time.

Especially if one is allergic to Christmas Trees.

Anyway I'm looking forward to the Spring. I'm a Spring kind of person. I like days with blues skies but a chill in the air, that kind of crisp new day freshness that puts syncopation in your step and make you dream of the heat of the summer. Which is curious really because I don't like hot summers. I get terrible heat rash. Which is why I've always thought I'd like to live in Switzerland.

I have not made resolutions, except I have committed myself to running a half marathon. Me! Thirteen odd miles, the woman who gets puffed out climbing the step ladder to reach the chocs on the high shelf. OK I exaggerate a little. I do, or rather have run, quite regularly for the last year, but never further than six miles. Everyone assures me that running 13 of them will be like a piece of cake but I am fairly certain it won't be. I can probably say for sure right now that there will be no butter icing and liberal dollops of jam involved. I think there will be pain, probably, wobbly legs definitely and a great deal of coming last. But I don't mind if I come last as long as I finish it.

I don't really know why I want to do it, I'm not a sports kind of girl normally. Normally I'm a high heeled sequined detail kind of girl but I was once on the school cross country B team when I was about eleven and it wasn't my speed that won me the place nor even my stamina but simply my determination never to stop. And that is how I am going to attack the half marathon and indeed this year. I shall keep going and do my best.

After all, what else can anyone do?

The Magic of Lists

2007-12-18T09:20:00.000-08:00

It seems to me that this Christmas is largely about lists. The first list was my six year old's Christmas list. She has recently become quite adept at reading and writing which has afforded her much greater opportunities when it comes to writing a wish list of presents for Father Christmas. Until this year she would dictate to me and we kept it fairly basic, short, to the point. Then we posted it up the chimney which as we all know is the most efficient way to reach Santa.

This year however she came upon me in the kitchen and hefted the most recent Argos catalogue onto the table, no mean feat considering it is almost her equal in weight.

'I'm writing my list, Mummy,' she informed me, running off to get her felt tips and some paper. 'It's going to be colour coded.'

'Marvelous,' I said. 'Good idea.'

Never one to pass an opportunity for fifteen minutes of peace and a cup of tea I left her to it. Then about an hour later I thought I'd see how she was doing because I have never yet known her to labour so long over anything. Her list was indeed colour coded arranged in neat columns and covered two sides of A4.

'Can I Look?' I asked her, awe struck.

'I'm not finished,' she said. 'I haven't done Elec-tric-al goods yet.'

I scanned the list, noticing it included not only the item, but the catalogue number and the page number too. It started with a 9ct gold teddy bear diamante pendant, moved on eventually to a garden set including chairs and a table and then one washer/dryer machine, a multifunctional kitchen chopping system and finally toys.

As I read it and looked down at her face, shining with so much pleasure and pride and I realised it wasn't the items on the list that drove her to make the list (Although she has been longing for some of the toys) but more the pleasure, freedom and power of being able to write it herself. The joy of creating words, of finding another way to communicate language had inspired her.

I tried to think back to that moment that I must of had, that almost all of us must have had when we have that first thrill and rush of realising what an incredible world the ability to read and write unlocks for us. It must have been a golden moment, even though as a dyslexic I struggled more than most to grasp those tools. And so for me those particular hard fought skills still bring me golden hours every day whether I'm reading a book or writing one and I think they are the greatest gifts that I have ever been given. My daughter felt free when she was writing her list, and I love that she felt that way.

Not sure she'll be getting a washer/drier in her stocking though.

'This is an excellent list,' I told her. 'I'm not sure that Father Christmas will be able to bring you everything, there are a lot of children in the world and he is working on a budget.'

'That's ok,' she told me taking the list back with infinite care. 'He knows what I want most is a trampoline anyway. Now I'm doing Elec-tic-al goods.'

The next list was my list, list of things to do for Christmas. Every year I wonder at the frenzy of activity building up to two or three days at most, every November I swear blind that I am not under any circumstances going to get involved in the melee, that I shall rise about it and every year on about December 15th I panic and make a list.

And then last of all there is the long list. Yesterday I discovered that I am on the longlist for the Romantic Novelists Association's Romantic Novel of the year with my book THE BABY GROUP. I have never been on a long list before, so it goes without saying that I have also never been on a shortlist.

I am very pleased and honoured to make the long list, populated as it is with twenty-one other really great talented writers. Will I make the short list? I don't know, I'd really like to - it would be an amazing thrill and a secret long held ambition of mine. But one thing I've discovered about long lists is that it is probably not the thing to get too excited at this stage. Perhaps simply better to to quietly be pleased that I'm on that list of 22 and try not to think about it any more. If by some miracle I do make the short list then watch this space where I will mostly be jumping around and shouting for joy. If not then let's just gloss over it and act cool like we're not even bothered.

But until we know either way keep your fingers crossed for me!

The Horror, the horror...

2007-12-12T02:38:00.000-08:00

I went Christmas shopping yesterday. I can't talk about it. I'm not a a person who naturally enjoys Christmas.I have to go into training for weeks before hand to get in the mood. I have to listen to 'White Christmas' sung by Bing Crosby. I have to buy a chocolate Yule log as soon as they become available in Mid November and eat a slice every day. I have to watch 'Miracle on 34th Street' and that other one with James Stewart in when he thinks about topping himself and doesn't. And then by about December 24th I am just about ready. Bring it on, Santa.

Well here it is....

2007-12-10T08:29:00.000-08:00

First of all I know I said I'd start a fictional serial here today but I am postponing that until I've worked out how to set up a new blog for it, so that I can have this space for general thoughts and another space for the serial. I expect its very easy to do but today I have been wrestling with an artificial Christmas tree so I haven't found out how to do it (I can't remember how I set this one up, it was so long ago!).

Why, I hear you ask, don't I just have a REAL Christmas tree like everyone else? Well, there are three reasons. First of all I'm allergic to trees and a real one sets off my asthma, second of all a fake one is actually more environmentally friendly if you use it over several years and we've now had ours for five years and third of all the last time we had a real tree is also came with a nest of ants that invaded our flat for the entire Christmas period. They were hardy little buggers who would not die no matter how hard we tried and that pretty much did it for me and real Christmas trees once and for all.

Besides as a general rule the part of Christmas that I really enjoy is the tacky and sparkly part, not for me those joyless Poe-faced hand made decorations fashioned out of wood and ribbon. I don't want to see a clove encrusted satsuma within a hundred yards of my house. I believe that everything that glistens SHOULD be gold, and if not gold then another metallic shade be it silver, red or even pink and all the better if its smothered in glitter. Bring on the tinsel, tons of it, and the fairy lights preferably flashing(the more environmentally friendly LCD ones of course) I want an angel in a trashy frock and the sort of chocolate tree decorations that rot your teeth. Power to the people who have six foot blow up Homer Simpsons dressed as Santa anchored to their roofs!

As soon as I've finished this I'm off to find my garland of fake pine cones and twinkling lights posing as berries to festoon my stair case with. Now that's what I call a Christmas decoration.

SLOW, SLOW, quick, quick, SLOW

2007-12-08T08:52:00.000-08:00

It's probably wrong to be as obsessed with a TV programme as I am with Strictly Come Dancing, but if it is then I don't want to be right.

I love that show. I have loved it since the very first programme and I love it still - I don't know why. I only know that the real reason I would ever aspire to celebrity would be so that I could go on that show and learn to dance with either Anton or Matt, I'm not fussed which.

Sometimes I find myself day dreaming about what it would take to become famous enough to be offered a slot on the show. I could make friends with Jordan, I muse, We could go out scantily clad and get photographed by the paparazzi getting into taxis at 3 a.m. Except that I've noticed recently that Jordan is a rather settled lady now, a happily married mother and all that - not to mention that I don't exactly have the physique to climb into taxis scantily clad since having a child. Plus the last time I was up at 3 a.m it was because my daughter had a tummy bug.

Also for this particular celebrity reality show you have to be a proper celebrity, one who has been on a soap or a breakfast TV sofa for quite some years, not just some upstart who took her bra off on Big Brother. So that rules out my plan to get 'lost' at sea in a canoe and then turn up five years later having forgotten everything but the fact that I love to cha-cha-cha. Not only would I not be the right kind of celebrity but I'd be arrested - and that is a fatal flaw in the plan because I am fairly sure you don't get out of jail early to to learn how to tango on the telly.

The lovely leggy and charming Penny Lancaster Stewart scored her spot by being a model/photographer/rock star's wife. I feel its probably going to be quite difficult for me to marry a rock star at this stage of my life. First off I am already married and whilst that wouldn't necessarily be a deal breaker I don't know any rock stars who long for a thirty something writer on the comfortable side of slim, who regularly dyes out her greys. Besides I think I missed my chance to marry a pop star when in the 1990s I failed to get Gary Barlow to fall in love with me from the back of the Birmingham NEC (it was all the those screaming girls getting in the way that ruined it for me)

Is it possible that a writer can ever be famous enough to get on 'Strictly'? Well, the only reason I am bitterly jealous of the wonderful Marion Keyes is not because of her substantial talent or well deserved success - its because she gets to go on Strictly Come Dancing: It takes two. She gets to meet Claudia and go round the set and touch the dancers. On the one hand I commend her for her pioneering spirit going where writers of popular fiction have rarely been before and on the other hand, every time she is on, I inwardly cry 'IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!'

There's just about half an hour to go to the live Saturday show now. What's Aliesha thinking about, I wonder? How's Letitia this week? Which one of the boys will shine now, Gethin or Matt? I'll be nervous every single second that I am watching it and I'll hold my breath through out all of the dances. And then when its finished I'll sigh and try and think of another way to score an invite onto the show. If only Jim'll Fix it was still going.....

Good intentions

2007-12-07T03:55:00.000-08:00

OK so as a resolution goes, forgetting to blog on only the second day of promising to blog every day wasn't my finest hour....but I did have a sort of excuse.

Yesterday was my husband's works Christmas party in a posh hotel in London. As a full time writer I don't have a Christmas party, in fact after several weeks holed up writing a novel all by myself, I can sometimes barely have any social skills at all and when I am occasionally wheeled out blinking into the sunlight to do book events, meet buyers etc it feels a bit like I have to socially defrost myself. As a consequence I do try to go to every single party I am invited to, just to keep my hand in with the whole talking to people my own age thing (that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it).

There was a dress code at the party, the theme was 'Magic' and we all had to wear red, black or silver. 'It's fancy dress,' my husband declared. 'I'll go as a Vegas Magician and you can be my assistant.' And so he duly ordered a red silk ruffled shirt with big sleeves from e-bay and a mystic medallion which he planned to wear unbuttoned to his naval with some tight black trousers.

Now I'm the kind of girl who believes that despite my large periods of virtual solitude I live a much more glamorous life than I actually do. My wardrobe is packed full of party frocks of all styles, colours and sequinage. If I want a pair of jeans or a jumper to wear of a morning I struggle, but a silver slingback? I have ten pairs to choose from. So for me getting the outfit together was no problem. Sparkly red dress with fish tail - check. Long black feather trimmed gloves - check. Red feather hair adornment - check. Ruby effect costume jewellery - check. And of course a pair of silver slingbacks. It did give me pause to think that I had all of that just sitting in my wardrobe but then again I looked upon it as proof that I actually did need it.

So we were set, and to be honest the only thing that kept me from blogging yesterday was this new fangled 'make-your-bra-fit-a-backless-dress-strap-contraption' which I can tell you is very tricky to get on....anyway I digress.

So we get to the hotel, we check in. We dress up. We look good, camp but good. This is going to be a fun evening I think. I love costume parties. We walk into the ballroom.

Its not fancy dress.

Quantity....

2007-12-04T02:36:00.000-08:00

I've promised to have a go at blogging every day. Who have I promised? The other racers who are so much better and more diligent than me, and myself. So that is what I'm going to do. Blog every day.

As a consequence my blog may often be quite dull, badly typed and quite short but I'm giving it a go. Today I finished reading the proof pages of the next Ruby Parker book 'Musical Star' It's my favourite Ruby book so far, I've really enjoyed writing it so it was was fun to read it through in its proper printed form. Somehow when you see your work in book form its as if someone else has written it and at last you can look at it with a dispassionate eye and read it from a distance. Also this book had a sort of 'fourth dimension' in that it features a musical and I asked a talented teen I know to write some music to go with the song lyrics I produced. Hopefully the songs will go on the website at some point - they are really good!

I am also forced to tidy up today, because people are coming. As you may know I don't really ever tidy up unless I have visitors, because there simply aren't enough hours in the day to prioritise dusting over a) writing books and b) thinking about writing books.

'Get a cleaner!' people frequently advise me, but I find I can't do that. Call me old fashioned but it seems wrong to me the notion of 'getting' another human being to clean up after me and my small family in my small house. Maybe its my proletariat upbringing but essentially the thought of asking another person to clean for me appalls and embarrasses me much more than a carpet that needs a vacuum.

So that's it, my first ever daily blog. I can see its not my finest work, it lacks drive, impetus and intrigue but much as I'd love to stay and improve it, chuck in a plot twist or two - maybe introduce a love interest, I can't, I've got to wash the kitchen floor.

What I might do is use this space to write a fictional blog - a sort of serialised story a little bit every day - what do you think?

And Breathe

2007-10-11T10:12:00.000-07:00

Well it's been a long time since I blogged here but I thought that as this week I delivered novels to both my U.K and U.S publishers I'd take a moment to pause and breathe and have a little think.

It's been a pretty crazy wonderful year so far. Four books published, three in this country and one in the U.S.A and three books written, two for children and one for adults - a combined total of 250,000 words!

I know what you might be thinking, you might be thinking she writes all those books in one year? She can't be a proper writer, surely it takes years to write one book and there has to be angst and crying and drafts and redrafts to be truly creative?

And the truth of it is that there all of those things, but writing is not only my passion and my joy - it's my job. And when you sit down from nine to five, five days a week to write and often work the weekends too, you can pack a lot of angst and creativity in to your working week. You can get a lot done and know that it's the very best work that you can do.

Because if I have one rule about writing its that I always give it my one hundred percent very best effort, that I never turn anything in that I haven't laboured to make as perfect as I possibly can. Of course it never is perfect, there's always more to be done and discovered in a bid to write that perfect book. But that's what writing's all about isn't it?

Panic and Emptiness

2007-06-22T09:22:00.000-07:00

First of all it's not THAT bad. It's just a phrase I like, I love Conran- he's one of my favourite writers.

I have a lot to do - but it is doable. I have plan and schedule and a desk and a lunch hour and a clocking off time when I go to pick up my little girl up at six pm. There actually are enough hours in the day, I know because I've worked it out. Now I just have to do it, or I should say the rest of it because a lot of it is already done. It's just that speaking as a person who really can't stand heights, taking that final step off the precipice and into the headlong descent of the last big push is giving me vertigo.

But in the end (by which I mean tomorrow, I'm on schedule remember!) I will feel the fear and I'll throw myself back into it and attack it and live it and breath it and love it until it is done. Because I love this. I love writing, yes it stresses me out sometimes, yes it keeps me awake in the middle of the night, YES I am sometimes to be found banging my head against the burr walnut of my expensive desk BUT THIS IS ME and the idea of giving up is impossible to imagine. At the risk of going all Gloria Gaynor this is what I do and what I love and I never forget how privileged I am to be able to do it. (Plus, I Will Survive)

There are few things in this life better than the free fall into writing, that wonderful tumble of words and ideas that somehow eventually find a form and make a book. So what I should do is stop with the Panic and Emptiness nonsense and get on with it. Enough with the pep talk.

The Wood for the Trees

2007-06-15T03:47:00.000-07:00

I've been beset by ideas this week, which you (or one, if we're being posh) would think is a good think, But I'm not so sure. Too many ideas confuse the plot and slow down the pace and I've learnt over six books that you can't fit all the ideas or indeed all the characters that you have created at the begining in to one book, some will have to go along the way which can be hard to do - especially when you love your ideas and characters. So I've handed what I have over to my dear trusted editors to ask for their opinion, which I highly value. I hope it will keep me focused and my eye on the end goal so I don't end up writing four books in one by mistake! I keep having ideas for other books too, which is also good but can be a little bit of a problem when the new fresh idea keeps popping into your head saying'' write me, write me, it will be much more fun than that old thing you've devoted half a year to!' and you have to shut it up and shove it back in the drawer. (Real or Metaphorical either one.) I met fabulous writer Jean Ure last week at a librarian's thing in Kent and she told me to write every single idea down and keep it for as long as it takes because one day you'll be able to use it and ideas are a precious commodity. So I'm not going to moan about my idea influx, I'm going to write them all down in a book and put them in a real drawer and save them for the inevitable rainy day!

Running to Stand Still

2007-06-01T06:01:00.000-07:00

This week I had to take a break from my book to do some housekeeping on other projects. It couldn't be avoided, and I love the fact that I get to work on more than one kind of book and write two or three books a years(two children's one adult) I consider myself very lucky. I've been working on the second draft of RUBY PARKER HOLLYWOOD STAR during the day and reading the page proofs for the American Edition of THE ACCIDENTAL MOTHER in the evenings, both things needed to be completed by the end of this week. It's fun to go back and read Ruby Parker after a few months break and with fresh eyes. I realised that my editor did have a point when she said sometimes my thirteen year old heroine sounds like a twenty-five year old who's been around the block! Writing a series is interesting because you have to get back into the skin of the main character every time you begin a new book, especially if it's told in the first person as the Ruby books are. Clearly at the beginning of the first draft of this book it took me a little longer than I thought! As for reading the page proofs for the US Edition of The Accidental Mother, that's just fun. I'm excited about it being published in the states. It's a book I'm really attached to and that did very well in the U.K. I really like my U.S editor too. I'd love it to sell a few copies over there, but I suppose I'll have to cross my fingers until September 2007 and wait and see! But as we all know pre-publication fear is pretty much par for the course in the this job. That and post publication anxiety!

Anyway starting first thing on Monday back to the book and I'll be powering ahead, because now the fire had been lit and I'm flying!

How to host a diner party and write a novel.

2007-05-25T02:29:00.000-07:00

It's hard enough writing a novel, I think we've all got that bit. My books are usually about 120K words long and I am currently running a tiny like bit behind schedule. At the end of April I was right on schedule with 50K words written but then I realised that it wasn't going in the right direction, that I was actually writing a completely different book from the one I planned. So I stopped, I asked people what they thought, I pressed high light and delete a lot and my word count dropped by 30K word.

BUT it was a good thing because I'm now back on the right path and the happy path that makes writing fun and a pleasure to do instead of feeling as if you are wading through rather indifference treacle. Today however two things are stopping me from catching up.

One, it's a school inset day, which will be closely followed by ANOTHER half term. I love my daughter with all my heart but seriously do we need inset days WHAT ARE THEY FOR?

And secondly tonight I am having two friends to dinner, two lovely friends. But two culinary friends I feel that I really have to cook for instead of unwrap things from packages and put them on plates.

That take time and a bit bit of thought but it's not so bad, what's really bad is the cleaning. I'm going to have to clean now people who don't live here are coming round, and that means hoovering and wiping down surfaces, perhaps even polishing (do I have any polish?) And because cleaning is not TOP of my list of things to do and it in fact is not even on it, that means I have quite some back log to get through before eight pm tonight.

Which means that today less writing and more cleaning will be done, shortly followed by panicking over pannacotta and trying to entertain my five year old who is determined to do some craft with her mummy.

And as for half term next week? Watch this space.