Photos of trip coming soon... but in the meantime, some nice news. I have just had three flash stories accepted by the wild and wacky Mad Hatter's Review. And they also want me to record audio versions, which I am thrilled about. I'll have to dust off my acting skills. So, in the next few months, three flashes in Mad Hatter's, two in SouthWord, three in the Ranfurly Review and one in Greatest Uncommon Denominator (which actually pays). Not bad, and great for the flash collection I am assembling.

Another positive aspect is that all of these flash stories ( all under 750 words in length, some much shorter) are very weird indeed,...

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Drifted round Sainsbury's this morning (not my usual shop, you know - I'm a Tesco Girl myself) getting the weekly shop and surprised myself by actually finding everything I wanted. Ye gods. Even the birdseed I'm getting for Gladys as her nursing home room has a bird-table in front of it and she was complaining about the lack of birds. I found it amongst the cat food - which has some kind of food-chain sense, I suppose.

This morning's surprise rejection was from a small publisher for The Gifting - not much of a surprise in itself as Rejection is my middle name. But they had already rejected it last month and, in addition, they addressed the email to Lord H. Is something going on I don't know about? Ah, many many things, I fear. I also fear that (a) I am losing any sense of identity I ever had, and (b) they will reject me again next month and this time will address the email to my mother. Deep sigh. I must be caught in a temporal loop somewhere. Again ...

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I'm trying to write one of two scenes, both very intense, very visceral; totally different. One involves a sunlit room, the other a dead hand. Sadly, the men tearing up the tarmac outside my window aren't helping. My thoughts are neither sunny nor handy. I feel under seige. Anyone with any suggestions that might help (apart from moving house temporarily, which is sadly not an option)?


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There's a title to conjure with indeed. And so very un-Easterlike too. Lord H & I had quite a jolly day yesterday - the Easter service at St Mary's was fine, and I fell in love with the perfume of the woman behind me and quizzed her about it during the Peace. As you do. Apparently it's called "Angel", appropriately enough. Church - such a useful place to stare at (and sniff at) other women and see if they have anything that might suit you. I was also rather taken with the mauve jumper of one of the women taking communion, but appreciated that leaping up and yelling excuse me, where did you get that? whilst she was communing with the Lord probably wasn't the best etiquette. Shame I missed her afterwards though ...

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Was greatly pleased today when Lord H came back from the shops with the Surrey Advertiser (Godalming edition) to find that I and Thorn in the Flesh were in it. Hurrah! Naturally the sudden rush of local fame and fortune appeals to my essentially shallow and worthless nature ... Actually, it's a very good article by Luke Jacobs (thank you, Luke!) - who somehow made sense of my crazed meanderings - and a photo which even makes me look human. I was also amused by the article headline, which appeared just under my photo - "Home Horror Brought to Book" - which makes me sound wonderfully like an evil arch-criminal who has just been arrested by the police. Which I suppose isn't too far from the truth. From now on, I shall always sign myself as the Home Horror. You know it makes sense ...

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I know that technically it's Springtime, but, considering how ridiculously cold it feels, especially in the snow flurries we've had, the last thing I expected to see today was a...



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Arrgghhh!!! No, sorry, that just came out. As it were. You know how it is. Anyway, Lord H and I have done our Mother duty and we can tick that one off our list, ho ho - so the rest of the weekend is our own (cue evil laughter ...). Which, funnily enough, is exactly what Mother said, except she substituted the word "Daughter" where I've typed "Mother" in the last sentence. And missed out the reference to Lord H. Lord preserve me, but perhaps we are indeed more alike than I'll admit. Noooooooo!!!!!! Somebody pass me the aspirin bottle now and save me the misery later ...

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It's now officially spring & I watched the snow falling through my chocolate hand-printed window this morning..

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When I'm commenting on someone's writing, one of the most common things I find myself saying is, 'I think you need either more of this, or less of it.' It might be some character who's characterised in such detail that they seem to be taking up an immoderate amount of space: readers expect the time they spend understanding and living alongside a character to be proportionate to their role in the plot, and can spend the whole book wondering when the person who took up the whole first chapter is actually going to return and blow up the bus. Which is fine, if they actually do...

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