- or so I thought, since I've been in France, researching the nameless new novel. But on the same day I read this, in John Gardner's The Art of Fiction -

"All three kinds of writing, it should be obvious at a glance, depend heavily on precision of detail... such detail ... that we cannot help believing that the story he tells us must be true."

- I took these:

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Natasha Cooper, for me, ranks as one of the most important commentators on the current state of crime writing. She wrote a feature recently in The Times about why it's harder for a woman to hack it as a crime writer than it is for a man.

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Hours after exercising for the first time in awhile, before the damage is felt and you spend the next few days unable even to scratch your nose without wincing, you feel just great. You bounce down the high street lighter than air, strutting confidently through the crowds with saucy smiles at the pretty ladies, feeling fit and healthy and attractive. Then you catch sight of yourself in a shop window and you stop and stare in shock, oblivious to the businessman who clatters into you from behind with a loud tut. You have not, as you assumed, instantly transformed into a svelte buff Adonis with a flat stomach and chiselled jaw line. You look, in fact, much as you did that morning. Overweight, pudgy, blobby. Not obese, not by a long shot. But the bulges are there, the ones that never existed when you were twenty-four and drinking beer rather than whiskey every night, for Christ’s sake. How can this be? You’ve just been through Hell.

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Nicotine cat and the collar
Well have not blogged since joining as I have kidnapped by my kids. We are doing the summer holidays at home this year which has been a pleasant change. The great thing about motherhood is there is never a dull moment. Or is it just my household – I did say crazy and deranged. As usual the day off is usually the earliest day you wake up. We were on the move. Tutor, collecting friends – it never ends. When the day finally calmed down at about 2pm and I found myself just about to drift on the sofa. Nicotine cat – well we call her that as she always sits on my lap when I smoke (outside of course). Oh that is really bad – my cat is a drug addict and I am the pusher. Anyway – I heard my son scream MUM. I could not even understand what he was saying, but it was one of those run and come now screams. You need to see this. I could not believe it, Nicotine cat had managed to trap her poor mouth in her collar. Maybe she had withdrawals from the Nicotine and having a fit. No seriously her mouth was prized open, jammed in her collar and our poor darling was suffocating. That was it my cape came out, super vet-mum to the rescue. Quick Josh scissors, knife – I was talking to myself really as the poor boy was in shock. He could not move. I jumped into the kitchen, had a flash back of where I last saw the scissors. Nicotine cat was heaving and trying to run –where you going man – I am trying to save your life. Anyway scissors snip and one cat saved. Little madam just ran off, not even a purr to say thanks or a lick. Maybe she would have appreciated a fag much more.
Well our cat is fine and we felt like heroes – we have banned collars for our two babies.

Last day before our holiday today, hurrah! So I'd really better go and pack soon. For those of you keen on Norfolk, we'll be staying here (see full post for links) for a few days. Shame it won't be that sunny though - indeed I'm packing for torrential rain. I fear lots of wet birdwatching days ahead - but what the hell, eh, it's a holiday and ye gods but I need the break. If only I can have five minutes of time and sunshine to sit in that glorious looking courtyard, then I will feel fulfilled.

Have had a good morning's golf today - my putting was shit-hot and I was getting the balls in when really I shouldn't have been. As it were. I was particularly proud of my long putt on the ninth which rattled in as if it was always meant to be and gave me a par. Ha! It makes it all worthwhile, you know ..


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I'm in a bit of a rush (I have writing and editing things to do and Good Boyfriend Duties to perform) but I absolutely had to post about this incredible film. Wall-E is excellent. It is a masterpiece. None of the trailers, in my opinion, come close to doing it justice. It's epic and tender and funny and exciting, and that's forgetting the wonderful animation, which is probably the best I've seen. A truly wonderful story, wonderfully told. And I think that it's a film which adults can enjoy without making concessions for it being a Disney kids' film.

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This blog is about all things writerly, and it's the way I deal with the things that happen to me as part of the writing life. So I have to write about this, even though there are things I can't talk about yet, because this is definitely part of the writing life and definitely something I didn't find so easy to deal with. Alrighty, here goes:

Over a 24-hour period at the beginning of this week, I won three prizes in three short story competitions.

Crazy.

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What a great week we have just had in Blackpool! The weather was good - only a sprinkling of showers and one heavy downpour - the rest of the week was brilliant sunshine. Blackpool is definitely a 'happening' place; loads going on there and plenty to do and see. Hubby and Eldest Grandson loved it, too. Not quite sure how I ended up going on the Pepsi Max Big One on Pleasure Beach - it is 210' at its highest point. The 'G' force on the first downward sweep is short but very VERY intense! Afterwards, Eldest Grandson and I stood underneath it and wondered how we'd had the guts to do it. I must say in the obligatory photograph which is taken randomly as you start to drop, Eldest Grandson looks terrified whilst good ol' granny (ie - me) has a somewhat inane grin on her face. I actually think that grin was petrified into place because it didn't leave me until we were safely back on terra firma.

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Have spent most of the day working on Hallsfoot's Battle and am now at the grand total of 21,500 words. Or thereabouts. I've just got to the telling of the First Gathandrian Legend, which is basically Gathandria's creation story. So that's proving challenging to make up as I go along, for sure. Fun too. Annyeke and I are hoping this will be the first stage in helping Simon to come to terms with who he is and what he can do with the mind-cane but, really, it's anyone's guess just now.

I was also really pleased to see that my poem, The Death of Marat, is included in Issue 18 of the Equinox poetry journal. And I'm among some great company too. I think it's the best poetry magazine I've had the pleasure of reading for a long, long time. Bloody hell, I might even subscribe, if I can find the energy for it. I particularly enjoyed offerings from Nigel Humphreys, Navkirat Sodhi, Andrew Geary and Barbara Daniels. Thought I'd best name-drop in advance, just in case they become hugely and justifiably famous later, you know ...


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The first time I read a novel written in the present tense, I felt annoyed and cheated. I was about 12 and it was a wonderful author whose other books I loved, so I excitedly turned to the first page… only to find it written in what seemed like a really weird way. My response was - well, I can’t remember exactly, but it must have been the mid-eighties 12-year-old square’s equivalent of “WTF??”


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