When I first started taking fiction writing seriously I joined an online group and Emily Gale was not only one of the first people I met there, but also one of the most helpful. Emily was already a better writer than I was (and still is) so I've got a lot to thank her for.

I am really pleased to have her here on the blog to talk about her book. It's a genuine pleasure. This interview is being posted with a smile.



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‘Old people can make ink from those – what do you call them?’ Jose Eladio the headmaster pointed to some strange-looking fungus growing near a tree. In front of the school, one or two trees of the pine variety are confined to square patches of earth. Spindly toadstools with frilly black edges had sprung up beside them.


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Although writing has always been a big part of my life - my song lyrics were legendary at school! - it has only been quite recently that I’ve started writing novels. Knowing that I would need to amass significant knowledge about the publishing industry, I read - all around the internet and beyond - about how to get an agent.

Agents, I discovered, were tricky, difficult characters with exacting standards. Heaven forbid that there should be a typographical error in your submission, or that your query letter (or email) should be too informal or, indeed, too formal. Don’t ask questions; don’t chase manuscripts unless a significant portion of time has passed; revere and venerate agents, and don’t expect them to be nice to you. They don’t have time.

The thought of submitting my first attempt at a proper novel was, to say the very least, daunting in the extreme. But, being of the ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’ mindset, I sent out a stack of submissions.



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No it's not that I don't like him; the main problem I have with my son is the way he just blasts out his thoughts and visions as if he's got a court order stating he's right in fact. I know you're going to grab me for using the 'don't like' words so on you go -.in fact I'll take a leaf out of his book and imagine that you couldn't possibly understand what I'm on about. Oooh, he makes me want to slap him. Does he think I'm from another planet or something? That I haven't been changed and battered through the years from dealing with men and teenagers?

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Went for a mile run tonight, my first in months and oh my god, what a lot of hard work is needed. Run a 13 minute mile and boy am I going to ache tomorrow.

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Is it only me that finds repugnant the release of the much-hyped Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 video game in the same week as Remembrance Sunday, Armistice Day, and the deaths of six British soldiers in Afghanistan?

Not being a fifteen-year-old-boy or an aging spod with no life, I admit I also find the game itself repugnant: the idea of selling the experience of armed combat as entertainment is actually offensive to me, and I can only wonder how the families of those who have lost loved ones in the recent conflicts, not to mention those fighting, feel about it.

But whose idea was it to schedule the 'premiere' (at a Leicester Square cinema, no doubt in order to borrow some of film's artistic legitimacy) on this particular day, in this particular week?

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No doubt this will get me into trouble yet again but I have to say that I am a little saddened by the actions of Jacqui Janes. For those of you that live in a cave and have not heard this story, Jacqui Janes is the poor mother of Jamie, her 20 year old soldier son who bravely lost his life in Afghanistan on 5th October. She was appalled to later receive a hand written letter of condolence from Mr. Gordon Brown which she states is nothing more that a rushed, scrawled and misspelled letter littered with half finished words. After her initial offence was made public, the Prime Minister telephoned assuring that no offence was intended but today I hear the only thing Mrs Janes has taken from that conversation was the 16 times Mr. Brown said sorry, yet still insists there was no apology. It is such shame that this 5th generation soldier who was on his second tour of Afghanistan and very proud to be serving his country, as well as making life better for the people of Afghanistan, is going to have his memory of being a hero overshadowed by a hand written letter.

Maybe a typewritten letter signed by a PM who did not even know its content would have brought more comfort.

You can see a copy of the letter at http://donnasdailydeliberation.blogspot.com/

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So far we have the Royal Mail postal strike, then the bin men went on strike and now I hear that some coach companies have gone on strike. Where will it all end? Let's just hope that MacDonald's does not follow suit or the UK may just wither and die

So after the initial disappointment of not securing a place in the 2010 London Marathon Ballot I decided to apply to The Little Miss and Mr Men Children with Leukaemia Charity and guess what, today I heard that the fairy godmother herself has waved her wand and I have a place. Well actually I have two places as an american friend of mine, Jamie, will be running with me. We do not have a theme yet but I have thrown the idea of Jamie pushing me in a wheel barrow into the pot. Let's see if he goes for it.

I’m a very recent convert to the X factor. We only started watching it as a family because our ten-year-old convinced us he would be a social pariah at school if he wasn’t able to confidently discuss who is in and who left (weeping) over the weekend. I liked to think I was a bit take-it-or-leave-it. But that all changed when Lucie Jones got voted off on Sunday. I finally understood Simon Cowell’s Machiavellian reputation and very much wanted to throw shoes at the telly.
Now there isn’t a huge amount in common between standing on a stage, singing overwrought pop songs, and being a sensitive, shy flower who likes to write stories, but it certainly isn’t without parallels.

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