WHAT'S A WRITER TO DO?

I really don't get it. How come I have to have a major clear-out every few months just so I can get into my study and write? I filled a huge black sack with unwanted rubbish a couple of evenings ago and produced a bin and a half full of shredded letters, receipts, circulars - all of which had mysteriously accumilated in my little sanctuary of creation without my knowledge. Having made it a safe and clear space again, my intention last night was to go in and write, write, write. So why did I spend the evening watching Tom Hanks in Castaway on BBC 3? Okay - so it just happens to be one of my favorite films and he just happens to be (in my humble opinion) one of the world's most talented and enduring character actors (and a personal favorite of mine I have to admit). But I have the DVD sitting up on the shelf, so why watch it on TV?. Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.

I think it is actually because I am a little bit out on a limb just now. The third and final Yuck book is finished and with Sarah the Publisher and the second in the series is almost complete - I saw the cover art last week by Ashley the Illustrator and it all made it kind of real. It looks as if the second one will be published this autumn and the third one next year some time. All exciting stuff. But of course now the series is written, what do I do next? I don't have an actual project - just about a million and a half ideas. I went to the London Book Fair with Hubby on Tuesday in search of inspiration. I think I overdosed on it. I couldn't help it! There were new books and publishers' catalogues and publicists and fellow writers at every turn and I came away fired up - so fired up in fact that I am still smouldering with exhileration.

I guess now would be the right time to stand back and take stock of things really. I am still in my utterly thankless PA job - I never dreamt in January that I would still be looking for a new job come mid-April - with no sign of change even on the horizon. I still desperately need Time to go out and publicise the Yucketypoo series properly. On top of all that, another publisher has asked for the first three chapters of my historic novel - which I haven't even started yet ( I did not expect such a fast response from them when I emailed last week to ask if they would be interested in it) and there are slow uneasy rumblings within the company where I am working where words such as 'cut-backs' and 'redundancy' are making distant (but palpable) unhappy echos. I haven't mentioned this to Hubby yet as rumblings they still are, and I know he would only start to panic.

So what's a writer to do? At least I am no longer in the depths of despair. I am in turmoil for other reasons. So. Do I start the historic novel? Do I get back to my poetry (which is my real purpose of being)? Do I take the first job that comes along per chance the unhappy rumblings become reality?
Or do I just wait and see what transpires? Any ideas? Or commissions?

Answers on a postcard please...

ANOTHER WEDDING.

We had the most brilliant weekend up in Peterborough! Eldest Stepdaughter married her long time partner with Grand-daughter as the most miniscule and perfectly beautiful Flower Girl you can imagine and Eldest Grandson just the most perfect Best Man! Considering the entire country was under threat of being seiged by snow, we were incredibly lucky. It only rained once and that was between the ceremony and the reception and there was no snow until the following day. It was just so wonderful seeing Eldest Stepdaughter looking so happy. And Laid-Back Son-in-Law (as he shall henceforth be known) just so utterly chuffed - as if Life had handed him a whole bowl of cherries - which I suppose in a way it had. Or a lottery win of some significance. Hubby held up very well. He wept buckets when Eldest Stepdaughter married the first time round. Not tears of sorrow, I hasten to add, but tears of downright pride and joy. Then, when Youngest Stepdaughter married some years later, he stole the show during the speeches and had 'em rolling in he aisles. He was, quite rightly I felt, at complete liberty to feel so proud of himself.

It fell to Granny - ie. me - to keep Youngest Grandson happy throughout the ceremony. He only began to build up to a howl once so I deftly walked him to the back of the Registry Office and back which was enough to send him into little coos of appreciation as he smiled and gurgled up at me for the rest of the service. In fact I think we bonded somewhat as he seemed quite content just to lay there in my arms. For a three month old, he is very expressive, I must say. After the service, we all head back to the house for light refreshment and a couple of hours later went along to a quaint little contry pub where they had hired a private annexe for the Wedding Breakfast. It was a lovely meal, much highlighted when Eldest Grandson clinked a glass and proposed his first ever toast "To my mum and Mark for getting married. Congratulations." Short, sweet, precise and a huge step forward into manhood for him. We gave him a standing ovation because he is usually so shy. The meal itself was divine, with plenty of choices (even for a Veggie like me), good food, good drink and very good company. Grand-daughter kept us all entertained with her dancing afterward. She just loves music and has a surprisingly well-developed sense of rhytmn for one so young. It all went very well with the party breaking up aound 11pm. Eldest Stepdaughter and Laid-Back-Son-In-Law went off to their hotel for the night and the rest of us piled back to the house exhausted but happy. At lunch time the next day, Hubby and I had to head home ourselves as he was due at work that evening.

It really could not have gone better and Clever-Son-In-Law (who else) had been roped in to be the official photographer. Is there nothing technical that man can't master? He took to the role like a duck to water and took almost 300 pictures over the course of the weekend; all on a digital camera he'd borrowed from a friend and had only a few days to get to grips with.

I think that's it wedding-wise till next year now. Last year we went to six of them so I guess it is no surprise we've only had the two this year.

I'll be back in a few days with a writing update I promise.

AN HOUR, AN HOUR, MY BREAKFAST FOR AN HOUR!!!

Hubby and I went to a wedding reception on Saturday night. It was an old chum of mine from my days as a Nursery Nurse and, despite the fact it was in Wimbledon which is no more than five or so miles away, Hubby and I decided to book ourselves into a hotel so that we would not have to worry about getting home; neither of us drive and it would have meant having to catch a tram and then another tram and then a ten minute walk so we thought, what the heck, why not? We got there around four in the afternoon. It was a converted family house at the end of a quiet residential street and we had Room A, which is a family room on the ground floor. We were made very welcome and given our key and we were glad to get in and unpack our suits for the evening.

The first thing Hubby did was grab the TV remote to see if he could get to the football results and the first thing I did was bounce up an down on the springy bed like an infant on holiday. Then we made use of the hospitality tray and had a coffee then I had a good look round. It may have been a small family hotel, but the proprietors had gone to great lengths to make it feel like The Ritz (and of course I went for tea at The Ritz not so long ago so I speak from experience). Pure white towels - a pile of three in varying sizes - adorned both corners at the end of the bed and the room was tastefully decorated in pale green and magnolia, with heavy drapes that matched the heavy quilt and the two cushiony parlor chairs, which stood, one each side, of a perfectly polished little oval table. There was also a single bed against one wall with a dorma bed beneath that and I think it would have quite comfortably accommodated a family of four without any problems at all.

After showers and getting changed, we headed off into Wimbledon Village fo something to eat and had a nice meal at Pizza Express, then we headed off to the reception via a Black Cab from Wimbledon Station. As soon as I mentioned our destination to the driver my confidence faded a tad. "Wimbledon Park Golf Club, please," I said, adding when I saw his tremor of panic "Home Park Road?" "Ah, Home Park Road, yes of course," he said with some kind of accent - Polish possibly - and Hubby and I clambered in. We arrived in Home Park Road and the taxi driver slowed down as he searched for anything that resembled a golf club. He finally stopped outside a pair of wrought iron gates and we got out. It was raining quite heavily by now and when we tried the gates we couldn't open them. "Maybe there's another gate further along?" I suggested. A minute or so later we found some more gates to a car park but we couldn't get through them either. As we wandered back towards the first set of gates, a car pulled up beside us and an anxious -faced woman popped her head out. "Are you looking for the reception?" I asked. She nodded. "We think it's over there but we can't get in," we told her.

Back at the frst gates, we pressed the security buzzer and nothing happened. Luckily for us some kichen workers came out with several bags of rubbish so we asked them. "How do we get to the wedding reception?" One of them nodded and input a security code. Hey presto - the gates opened like magic and we went towards the club house; accompanied by the anxious faced woman and her companions. We went straight into a bar which was next to a big empty room where a live band were setting up and we ordered drinks. We still didn't know if we were in the right place for the right reception but two Budweisers later I ran into Kirsty - the blushing bride - who was sitting in the cloak room feeding her little daughter a bottle of formula. We were really pleased to see each other and her mum was there, too, who I also know quite well, so there were hugs and kisses all round. "I found Kirsty," I told Hubby when I got back to the bar. "So we are in the right place!"

It was a very nice evening all told. We didn't know anyone else so we just kind of hovered but we did get to speak to Neil, the handsome groom (who looked very dashing in his tails, I must admit) and I took a couple of photos of their first dance and the wedding cake, but that was about it. The place was thronging with people and there was hardly room to move sometimes, but the atmosphere was nice. By eleven o'clock, though, we'd really had enough. We said cheerio to the happy couple and the bride's mum and went back out to the rain. Half an our later we were still trying to find our way back into town and my new shoes were becoming decidedly uncomfortable. Suddenly, Hubby bolted across the road, waving his arms frantically and I wondered uneasily if he'd had one vodka and diet coke too many. As it turned out he'd spotted another black cab so we got in and arrived back at the hotel five minutes later, exhausted, wet and tired.

Just before we settled down for the night, I put our watches and the little travel alarm clock we'd taken along (well we didn't want to miss breakfast, after all we'd paid for it!) forward one hour and then we went to sleep. It was an odd kind of night though. The room was black as black can be and the only way you could use the loo was by turning on the bathroom light which also activated a rather noisy air extractor, and the quilt just got heavier and heavier as the night went on. We were both going from pleasantly warm to boilng hot to freezing cold after kicking off the covers in the space of five minutes, but we did manage to sleep reasonably well. When the alarm went off at 7.30 the next day, we knew we had an hour in which to shower and dress before the dining room would open for breakfast and finally, at around 8.40, we decided we'd waited long enough. We went to the dining room and turned the door handle - it was locked! "Let's give it ten minutes or so," said Hubby. Ten minutes later, we tried again. It was still locked. "I hope they didn't forget to put their clocks forward," I remarked. Another guest appeared and tried the door. It was ten to nine by then and the door was still locked. "Errmmmm..." said Hubby and just then the door opened a crack. A sleepy face peered out. "Dining room opens at eight thirty," the disheveled young lady told us huskily. "But it's ten to nine!" we protested. "The clocks went forward didn't they?" There was a moment of silence as it slowly dawned on our young hostess. "I thought that was tonight," she said in cold terror. "No it was two o'clock this morning!" said Hubby. "I am really sorry," she said, suddenly awake and flustered. "But it'll be half an hour before I can open up because I need to cook." The door snapped shut and we looked at each other. "Let's go and get a paper," said Hubby as we pulled on our coats. So we wandered into the towncentre, via Starbucks (naturally), bought a paper and sat down to breakfast at the hotel almost an hour later than we should have.

Ah well, never mind. What's an hour between friends? It was still a nice hotel and still a good weekend. I just hope we aren't staying there when the clocks go back, that's all!!!!!!

SO I GUESS I'M A WRITER ...

What a crazy crazy week I have had! Talk about Highs & Lows, Swings & Roundabouts, Ups and Downs! Half the time I haven't known if I am over here or over there. I have been so disconnected from myself most of the week that even people I know are saying thngs like "You look lost." How right they are - I have never been so lost! I suppose it started on Tuesday when the phone bill came in. That, like the gas, elecricity, water and Council Tax, is higher this year than it was last year. Hubby is working all the overtime he can get but we still never seem to have enough money. This has made me see that the likelyhood of me changing jobs and reducing my hours this year is feasibly zilch. And with that realisation came the full force of complete dispondency, which metaphorically plunged me into the most despairingly bleak depression it is possible to go and still retain an element of humanity. I lost my appetite, all I wanted to do was sleep. And sleep. And sleep. And I didn't care, that is the really scary thing. I didn't care. I do remember one thought ringing in my mind over and over again, though. It was this: If I can't give it everything, I can't give it anything. My writing career had shuddered to a halt and was effectively over. The new Yuck book was abandoned. I steered clear of my blog and my journal. I went onto the WW site to say goodbye to everyone and resign, I was that serious. But when I got there, guess what I found? It was the interview I gave to WW some time ago about my writing. It was at the top of the home page and it came out and hit me with so much force I almost reeled from it. Not only the interview - but comments from fellow members, all telling me how inspiring they'd found it. It moved me to silent tears, I can tell you.



So of course my writing career isn't over. And with that inkling of hope came a fresh burst of energy. I scrapped all three of the Yuck 3 drafts because they were all completely wrong. But the fourth and most perfect one flowed from my pen inside an hour and it is this one that I shall email over to Sarah the Publisher on Sunday. Then a letter arrived from Hubby's Aunt Amy - a very private lady - especially for me, congratulating me on the publication of the first Yuck! I have, she tells me, joined the ranks of successful family writers since three of her children are all published authors - a fact I never knew (and I am not sure Hubby did either!). And tonight an email from Sarah the Publisher. Yucketypoo is being considered for a board game and would I please click on the link to the manufacturers to get a feel of it. So, sweet, loyal, supportive Blog Buddies, what is all this telling me do you think? Is this just another exceedingly high point on life's rollercoaster? Will I ride it a while before it goes into yet another rapid decline? Will there ever be ink in my pen again? Or will there be further blots on the future? Who can know? And how long should one wait to find out, I wonder ........

CLEVER EDDIE ...

Does anyone remember my blog for 3rd October last year when Hubby and I returned from the beautiful Outer Hebredes? One of the characters I mentioned was our driver and tour guide Eddie with whom I'd struck up a particular friendship because we are both writers who were on the verge of having our first book published. I mention this today because, when I got home last night, Hubby was beaming at me. "There's a lovely surprise there for you," he said. "I like surprises!" I responded and looked. It took a moment but then I exclaimed in wonder, "It's Eddie's book!" And it was - a beautifully illustrated story book produced in the way of the old fashioned children's books, with the text wrapped in luscious full colour illustrations and stories and poems like the kind I had read to me as a little girl. And on the back cover is the review I wrote after Eddie showed me the draft copies back in October! There was a lovely letter with it, addressed to both Hubby and I, and the last thing he says in it is "I hope everything is going well for your book."

I am so chuffed! I didn't mention it on 3rd October but for quite a lot of the two weeks of our tour, Eddie and I spent a number of coffee stops discussing our books. I had already self-published a number of poetry books for children (copies available - just give me a call) which had sold well on a local scale, but I had never attempted anything nearly so ambitious as Eddie, and I am just so pleased that he achieved his dream! I will of course, return the favor and said him a copy of Yucketypoo because he was with me when I got a call from Sarah the Publisher to say that a women's magazine with a circulation of 75, 000 were going to run a feature on it in time for Christmas.

I think I need to circulate with more writers. We feed off one another so well and the mutual support is always there. This is one of the reasons that I love belonging to the WriteWords community - and possibly why I always get a reply from any other writers I contact from time to time.

As for Eddie and his "Grandad's Tales" - all the best to him. And if you know any children under eight who'd appreciate comfortable, old-fashioned, yet completely original bedtime stories, get in touch and I'll tell you how you can obtain a copy at the price of £5.99.

Have a good day.

A FIVER'S WORTH OF LUCK?

How was your Mother's Day? Middle and Youngest Sisters and I - plus the three youngest nephews - gathered at Mother's on Sunday afternoon for a Family Tea. Husbands three were all working and unable to make it (well, that was their story!) - but it was actually really nice - just the four of us (the three boys ran about like bombs on legs all afternoon, howling, giggling and squealing)enjoying each other's company. We sat round Mother's little kitchen table, picking at the giganticus buffet Mother had put on (despite being told not to and that we'd all bring a contribution) which concluded with a spoon a piece diving into the chocolate gateaux - and oh, it was scrummy! It made a pleasant change and Mother enjoyed it which was the main thing - although she did complain a bit about the amount of food left over (her fault entirely, she should have just let us bring our contributions!) - and the gateaux was to die for, so who's complaining?



On my way into the office yesterday morning, I looked down and spotted a perfectly healthy five pound note lying on the ground. No-one else had seen it and certainly no-one was looking for it so I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I am aware there is a moral dillema here - was I right to keep it? Or should I have handed it in at the police station? Or - having found it - was I morally obliged to give it to charity? Will I burn in hell for buying two cups of coffee with it? Answers on a postcard please ...



In truth that little fiver made me smile because finding it made me feel as if someone else was smiling at me. And it boosted my morale (if not my morals) because I have been going through a major identity crisis the past few days. I think this is because my working life and writing life are coverging into one gigantic unmanageable monster. I need 48 hours in every 24 - and it just isn't going to happen. Yesterday, for example, I worked all day then went home and worked on the new book for nearly three hours. I know millions of other writers have to do the same thing - but, boy is it tiring or what? And tonight will be the same. So much for me finding a part time job! There just aren't that many about and what there is gets snapped up in the blink of an eye. It is very draining, all this! But I will manage somehow. Why? Because fate handed me a five pound note when I least expected it, that's why. At least that is what I am telling myself.

I am sneakily finishing this post during a quiet five minutes at work. In approximately thirty minutes I am going out to meet Mother for lunch - she has made a full recovery by the way - and she has insisted that she will pay today and I am going to let her - as I do once in a blue moon - because she seems to like being able to occasionally.

So I am going to sign off for now. Have a good afternoon one and all!

DER SPRING IS SPRUNG ....

Decided to give my blog a makeover this evening. Since my books are environment-related, I thought this blue/green theme was more approproiate. What say you?

I am feeling better today. I don't like feeling down in the dumps; it really doesn't suit my personality. I have always been the optomist, always the one to find the silver lining and bouy people up - I have done it since I was eleven years old. It feels very alien to me to be so down and it is always a blessing when the mood lifts and I find my smile and sparkle again! I'd like to thank you for your support by the way; you will never know how much it helped to pull me out of the dark clouds in which I had ensconced myself!

I went for a nice long walk the other day. It was one of those glitteringly bright afernoons, with the sun casting a golden glow over the grass and trees. I saw my first blossoms of the spring - so beautiful. And there were a pair of tiny blue tits dancing round the bird feeder yesterday, which was gorgeous. But the most amazing thing I have seen of late is the incredible sunset that painted the world a soft peachy hue the other evening! It was so radiant that the tree-trunks turned a rich red and the sky was a venerable pallet of pinks, apricots, golden and pale yellow. I would have loved to photograph it but unfortunately that day, I didn't have my camera. It really was splendid and it touched my inner soul! Honestly, it had to be seen to be believed!

So what are my goals for this week? Obviously to get the third book finished. I think I might also make a point of reading some poetry during the evenings; it might light a spark. I really miss my poetry and it feels like such a long time since I wrote anything really worthwhile. Oh and I need to enter a competition this month; there are quite a few about, so I will have to decide which one I should go for.

And finally, I would like to thank you - just for being there!