I had planned to post an essay on doing school visits here today and even started writing it, but got to 300 words or so and decided that it really wasn't happening and that I should probably try it some other time. And I will; it's just a bit frustrating because I meant to do it ages ago.

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Have finally managed to put Hallsfoot's Battle on the website and you can find it here (click onto full post for links). Oh, and the photograph with the novel entry is Madeira. In case you're wondering ... While The Gifting one is of Egypt. A free book to the first person who leaves a comment attached to this journal entry telling me - correctly! - which photo was taken by Lord H and which was taken by me. Give reasons for your choice! Hell, never say I'm not nice on occasion. I'll even waive postage. Mind you, the free book has to be one of mine, aha! Though you can't have it until I'm back from my hols, sadly. If you've already got all of my current books, thank you, thank you a thousand times and you can have the next one instead. As well as my undying affection - which is probably in itself enough to terrify you all ...

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I’ve always wanted to buy a black kitten and call him Poe. I first heard the story, The Black Cat when I was about ten years old. We listed to it in class, on a cassette player. Ever since then I’ve had this daft idea that if I ever get a black cat, I’d call it Poe...

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Had a lovely Clarins facial and massage today - utter bliss. Charlotte (the therapist) had to struggle to make some kind of inroad into my stiff-as-a-wall back though. And as she's on the petite side of petite, it was quite a struggle. But I do feel better now and my shoulders have come down - if temporarily - from my ears. Phew! Bad backs are the Writers' Curse, you know. One of them at least. I really have to go back to my daily relaxation exercises - they do make such a difference.

I also managed to pick up a copy of June's Writers' Forum magazine, which contains a very challenging article about print-on-demand writer-publishing and the current Amazon (shame on you, Amazon ...) nightmare by the wonderful Siobhan Curham. This includes several mentions of Goldenford (what a fabulous publisher!) and some quotes from me. Plus a picture. Gosh, thanks, Siobhan! Fabulous article, and I nearly look human too - how do you do that?!? ...

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I've been trying to work out why so much of study of literature assumes that I'm dead, when I really do feel quite alive. The thing is, I've finally discovered some hard-core literary theory - narratology, apparently a branch of structuralism - which is absolutely fascinating not just in itself, but because it maps very exactly onto my own experience of writing. Where necessary it gives new, more precise words to the things that I and most writers think and worry and decide about, but reading it's a bit like having walked all over a town, and then, literally, being handed a map which shows where all the places I've walked fit together. I can even use it on others' accounts of their walks, and understand where they went.

And yet all these critics do their talking and thinking and analysing on the basis that what the author 'meant', what I was trying to say, is not the point: that the only thing you can talk about is the text on the page, and how the reader interprets it. Fine. That's the rules of their game, and their game is interesting. In fact, it's so interesting that it's been bothering me a lot that I don't seem to be allowed to play, simply because I am the author: my authorial intention isn't allowed to be a playing piece, or a space on the board, or even a dummy hand. And yet I watch their game, and it's full of moves I know, decisions I've taken, ladders I've climbed and snakes I've slid down.

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Woke up to a gloriously kind review of Thorn in the Flesh today from the utterly lovely Sarah Watts (Optimist) on the Writewords site, which I include below:

“I’ve been meaning to write a review of Thorn in the Flesh for some time. It’s taken a while partly because I haven’t known quite what to say. It’s like a discovery you look forward to sharing with someone special - but you don’t want to tell them too much and spoil the surprise. Surprising it certainly is. Having read three of Anne’s novels now one might expect to see a certain pattern emerging – qualities in the writing that makes you think – ah yes, this is typical; this is similar to what she did before. Many of us are happy to read our favourite authors confident that they will deliver more of the same ingredients that worked so well before. No – think again. Each of Anne’s books is gloriously individual – each builds on the strength of what has gone before to deliver something new – a fresh experience for the reader. When I read Thorn in the Flesh I literally could not put it down. Anne delivers a compelling story that keeps you turning the pages. I found her strong central character Kate entirely believable. She is depicted with searing honesty and the character is fearless in her refusal to compromise – to conform to expectation. I imagine that because of this Kate is a character the reader will love – or love to hate. Here is a woman who is attacked in the sanctuary of her own home – whose certainties and securities are torn away – what happens next? Where does she go from here? Thorn in the Flesh is not a comfortable read, it provides no cosy solutions and ultimately it gives no easy answers. It gets under the skin of the reader and causes you to look into the void – to imagine the unimaginable. It is to the credit of the author that the character’s journey is so believable. To me there is truth in the story and integrity in the writing. The story taps into the resonance of ancient myth delivered with the pace and assurance of a modern thriller. Read and enjoy.”

Gosh, thanks hugely, Sarah – that’s really made my day!...

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I was scooting through a website today and came across this list of bizarre How-To books. I've included the Amazon links so that you can see that these are real.

I'm guessing that there is a 'How to Get Your Ludicrous How-to book published'.


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I arrive with Cheryl at the leisure centre in Doncaster the night before my first convention appearance. As the bored girl with a clipboard searches for my name on her list I try to give her my petrol receipts. “We don’t cover expenses I’m afraid," she says.

I study her. “I get a refund for the hotel room, though, right?” She laughs softly. She thinks I am joking. Cheryl squeezes my arm for support, a gesture I appreciate because I know the money spent has pained her more than I.

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Carried on typing up yesterday’s minutes this morning and attempting to sort out the teething troubles on my new computer, ie no printing facilities, emails that go through copious spellchecks before being sent and my missing screensaves. After all, how am I supposed to get through the day without seeing the front covers of all my books drifting before my eyes??... I can’t survive without at least some ego massage, you know ...

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...Bored. Bored and twitchy. Bored and twitchy and more than a little neurotic.


It occurred to me today that when I am not writing I am totally and utterly insufferable. All I seem to do is wander around trying my hardest NOT to think about writing. Either that, or I am looking at articles about writing, listening to pods about writing, or reading about writing. (It is not lost on me that I am now writing about writing!!!)


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