Current work: fiction (deadline mode – am still at the ‘this book is pants and my editor will hate it’ stage)
Listening to: Corelli
Reading: Fiona Harper, Blind Date Baby (enjoyed this one a lot – her books are always a treat – and yes, this is yet another from my weekend reading-fest. Have been way too busy to read this week!)
Thanks to everyone who sent me sympathetic emails yesterday. It helped. I was pretty miserable and growly, but my bounce is back today. Amazing what a bit of sleep can do. (Have warned DH if he messes up my sleep again, I will go on strike.)
I have a Radio Four interview at lunchtime today. Chris, the journalist, is coming to see me. Should be fun – will post later when I know date/time of being aired. It’s about blogging and how authors use it to promote their books.
Actually, yesterday (after the horrible morning), things started to look up again. I had a lovely email from my editor re my next contract. I am so much happier when I have things planned out in advance: it’s the ADHD thing. If I don’t have a structure in place, I feel as if everything’s sliding out of control, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. She said some really sweet things that made me feel a lot better about my work. Apparently readers like my – as she put it – ‘very individual ideas mixed with classic themes’. I also have permission to be clever with an idea I’m toying with (and I fully accept why my original pitch can’t work – at least in M&B terms – but she may regret giving me said permission).
And I sorted out some backstory I needed to know: where my hero and heroine got married (here). It’s a reunion book, so it doesn’t take place on the page, but I needed to know for later plot purposes. I enjoyed exploring the house online, and it’s sparking off other ideas.
Oh, all right. I admit that I chose the house for the staircase, which is an architectural rarity – apparently there are only two of these suspended staircases in the world. How amazing must it feel to walk down a suspended staircase in a swishy dress?
It’s the kind of place I wouldn’t have minded getting married. Though my own wedding took place in a tiny country church (here – or if you want to see more info on Simon Knott’s fab website, here). The entrance (for bridal parties, anyway) is actually round the side of the building, not the door you can see in the pic. But I can remember family and friends lining that path and the photographer yelling ‘let them have it!’ and confetti going everywhere…
I also discovered something exciting, during a sort-of coffee break. Regular readers (or those who know me in real life) will already realise that I have a bit of an obsession with glass (particularly 14th-century stained glass and certain 19th-century art, aka Burne Jones). A few years back, we had this wonderful ecclesiastical museum in the redundant church of St Peter Hungate in Norwich. Then it closed. I was very sad about this (this was in the days before I admitted having the churchcrawling bug – I just used to do it and keep quiet about it). Bu-u-ut – last year I heard that it was becoming a heritage centre and the initial phase would be stained glass. I very, VERY nearly applied for a job there; however, as I don’t have time to breathe as it is, taking a second job and making life difficult with school runs etc would be a very bad move, so I was sensible and didn’t give in to the impulse. (I did get as far as printing off the application form, though… it was that serious.)
I knew the centre was due to open this month some time: and I’m delighted to say that the Hungate Centre is open RIGHT NOW, from Thursdays to Saturdays. Given that next week I’ll be starting my Venice book (which involves glass, and lovely Michelle Styles has taken lots of location pics for me and is willing to be grilled mercilessly), I really think I need to visit sooner rather than later. Especially as a conservator works there on Saturdays and I can see the work in action. I’m going to be tired on Thursday, post-London, so that might be a nice way to settle back in to work...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Conspiracy, anyone?
Current work: fiction (deadline mode – am still at the ‘this book is pants and my editor will hate it’ stage)
Listening to: Corelli (yup, am stressed enough to bring out the really big guns)
Reading: Sarah Mayberry, Take On Me (recommended by my mate Amy Andrews, who said that Sarah is brilliant, and she was right – great pace, great dialogue, great hooks, and exactly what I’d expect from someone who’s been a TV story editor. I will definitely be buying the follow-up, next month)
Five weeks and one day ago, I had a bit of a nightmare with the car. Today… same nightmare.
Actually, it’s been a difficult day today, full stop.
Started when DH woke at 5.30 and couldn’t get back to sleep, so he decided to prod me until I growled. ‘Are you awake, honey?’ Grr. I was too tired to get up and start work, so I dozed. Ended up getting up late (feeling grumpy and overtired because a certain person had woken me an hour early); and then he started burbling on about can I buy some new leads for my old computer so he can connect it up. ‘You don’t need new leads. They’re in the white box.’ (A white box it appears he may have thrown out. Which also contains my software for Office 2007. How pleased am I? Yeah.) So that’s a good hour of work he owes me which I didn’t do because I was too tired to crawl out of bed when my alarm finally went off this morning, plus another hour for sorting out something HE was meant to organise for this weekend but has left it until the last minute and dumped it on me because I’m so good at sorting things out. (Meanwhile, I have a screaming deadline AND it’s school holidays, and I want to know what he’s done with my box. This is the man who keeps non-working stereos in the bottom of his wardrobe for ten years ‘because they might come in useful’, but he can throw out a box without looking in it or checking with me first?)
So then we have Dad ringing, wanting to know why I’m not there yet (er, because I was waiting for the Sainsbury’s delivery first and it’s school holidays, and I was also trying to sneak in an hour’s work before I turned up). Except he can’t do a normal phone call: no, he doesn’t say a single word (which freaks me. If I say hello several times and you don’t reply, then I assume that my hearing aid has gone wrong and I panic). I hang up, try redialling him, and he’s there with a list of errands to be run. Why didn’t he speak? ‘I couldn’t hear anything…’ (Clearly he’d pressed the mute button.) ‘How do I change the settings on the phone?’ Uh. Trying to instruct him over the phone is NOT a good idea; plus his phone is not the same as mine so I’d need to check his manual first. ‘Do not touch it. I’ll fix it in a minute when I come over.’
Call in to Sainsbury’s to buy his required goodies and tissues. Manage to join the slowest queue in history. And then, a little more than halfway to the home (which is in the middle of nowhere), a warning light on the dashboard starts flashing and the car feels juddery. I’m nearer Dad’s than mine, but I don’t have my insurance details on me (stupid Kate, something to fix immediately – write it in Filofax and put in PDA now – and yes, I do have both. Filofax (a Radley one, of course) is backup in case PDA goes wrong). Continue with visit, inwardly panicking about car (Dad is under the impression that you get free courtesy cars with everything and the government will pay you £2000 to change your car when you want to. Er, not on this planet).
Juddering gets worse on way home. Start to lose power as we go up the hill – I’m pushing down on the accelerator and the rev counter is dropping, and another light flashes on. Arrgh. Ask son to ring DH and see when he will be home, as I do not want to drive the car to the garage without an escort in case it goes bang. ‘As soon as I can.’ (That’s so precise and helpful. Not.) Get home, hands shaking. Ring garage and explain what’s happened. They advise asking breakdown people to bring car in. Ring lovely RAC and explain. ‘We’ll be with you in 45 minutes.’
Lovely RAC turn up exactly as promised, check it out – and this time the problem is cylinder #4 (last time it was #1 so it isn't exactly the same as last time). They tow the car in to the garage for me so I don’t have to worry about a) driving and losing power as I pull away from roundabout, and someone crashing into me, and b) the kids (it’s school holidays – they’re too young to leave here, RAC van can’t take all of us, neighbours have all gone out as is nice sunny day… and oh-h-h I would rather be at the seaside than stuck here with a screaming deadline).
End result: I will be carless for two days. Luckily it’s school holidays so I don’t have to worry about the school run.
Radio Four journo rings (nice guy – had a long chat last week) but bad timing: right when I’m ready to bawl my eyes out! I’ve agreed to do an interview here tomorrow and we’ll sort the details later today. (Any squabbling from kids during said interview, and the X-box/Wii/DS Lite will be confiscated for the rest of the year. ‘That’s a bit harsh, Mum.’ Uh-huh, but this is NOT the time to test my boundaries.)
Total amount of words done so far today: nowhere near enough to hit my (revised) deadline. (Weep.)
Total amount of stress today: lots. (I think DH owes me a visit to the Pandora shop.)
Total amount of chocolate eaten: none, because I stepped on the scales this morning and it’s monstrous (ah, that can be the third thing – nasty scales, irritating husband, kaput car. Yes. Can breathe out again).
Time for a cup of coffee, methinks. And a deep breath. The kids are watching Inkheart, and I’m going sound off until I’ve put a decent amount of words on paper.
Listening to: Corelli (yup, am stressed enough to bring out the really big guns)
Reading: Sarah Mayberry, Take On Me (recommended by my mate Amy Andrews, who said that Sarah is brilliant, and she was right – great pace, great dialogue, great hooks, and exactly what I’d expect from someone who’s been a TV story editor. I will definitely be buying the follow-up, next month)
Five weeks and one day ago, I had a bit of a nightmare with the car. Today… same nightmare.
Actually, it’s been a difficult day today, full stop.
Started when DH woke at 5.30 and couldn’t get back to sleep, so he decided to prod me until I growled. ‘Are you awake, honey?’ Grr. I was too tired to get up and start work, so I dozed. Ended up getting up late (feeling grumpy and overtired because a certain person had woken me an hour early); and then he started burbling on about can I buy some new leads for my old computer so he can connect it up. ‘You don’t need new leads. They’re in the white box.’ (A white box it appears he may have thrown out. Which also contains my software for Office 2007. How pleased am I? Yeah.) So that’s a good hour of work he owes me which I didn’t do because I was too tired to crawl out of bed when my alarm finally went off this morning, plus another hour for sorting out something HE was meant to organise for this weekend but has left it until the last minute and dumped it on me because I’m so good at sorting things out. (Meanwhile, I have a screaming deadline AND it’s school holidays, and I want to know what he’s done with my box. This is the man who keeps non-working stereos in the bottom of his wardrobe for ten years ‘because they might come in useful’, but he can throw out a box without looking in it or checking with me first?)
So then we have Dad ringing, wanting to know why I’m not there yet (er, because I was waiting for the Sainsbury’s delivery first and it’s school holidays, and I was also trying to sneak in an hour’s work before I turned up). Except he can’t do a normal phone call: no, he doesn’t say a single word (which freaks me. If I say hello several times and you don’t reply, then I assume that my hearing aid has gone wrong and I panic). I hang up, try redialling him, and he’s there with a list of errands to be run. Why didn’t he speak? ‘I couldn’t hear anything…’ (Clearly he’d pressed the mute button.) ‘How do I change the settings on the phone?’ Uh. Trying to instruct him over the phone is NOT a good idea; plus his phone is not the same as mine so I’d need to check his manual first. ‘Do not touch it. I’ll fix it in a minute when I come over.’
Call in to Sainsbury’s to buy his required goodies and tissues. Manage to join the slowest queue in history. And then, a little more than halfway to the home (which is in the middle of nowhere), a warning light on the dashboard starts flashing and the car feels juddery. I’m nearer Dad’s than mine, but I don’t have my insurance details on me (stupid Kate, something to fix immediately – write it in Filofax and put in PDA now – and yes, I do have both. Filofax (a Radley one, of course) is backup in case PDA goes wrong). Continue with visit, inwardly panicking about car (Dad is under the impression that you get free courtesy cars with everything and the government will pay you £2000 to change your car when you want to. Er, not on this planet).
Juddering gets worse on way home. Start to lose power as we go up the hill – I’m pushing down on the accelerator and the rev counter is dropping, and another light flashes on. Arrgh. Ask son to ring DH and see when he will be home, as I do not want to drive the car to the garage without an escort in case it goes bang. ‘As soon as I can.’ (That’s so precise and helpful. Not.) Get home, hands shaking. Ring garage and explain what’s happened. They advise asking breakdown people to bring car in. Ring lovely RAC and explain. ‘We’ll be with you in 45 minutes.’
Lovely RAC turn up exactly as promised, check it out – and this time the problem is cylinder #4 (last time it was #1 so it isn't exactly the same as last time). They tow the car in to the garage for me so I don’t have to worry about a) driving and losing power as I pull away from roundabout, and someone crashing into me, and b) the kids (it’s school holidays – they’re too young to leave here, RAC van can’t take all of us, neighbours have all gone out as is nice sunny day… and oh-h-h I would rather be at the seaside than stuck here with a screaming deadline).
End result: I will be carless for two days. Luckily it’s school holidays so I don’t have to worry about the school run.
Radio Four journo rings (nice guy – had a long chat last week) but bad timing: right when I’m ready to bawl my eyes out! I’ve agreed to do an interview here tomorrow and we’ll sort the details later today. (Any squabbling from kids during said interview, and the X-box/Wii/DS Lite will be confiscated for the rest of the year. ‘That’s a bit harsh, Mum.’ Uh-huh, but this is NOT the time to test my boundaries.)
Total amount of words done so far today: nowhere near enough to hit my (revised) deadline. (Weep.)
Total amount of stress today: lots. (I think DH owes me a visit to the Pandora shop.)
Total amount of chocolate eaten: none, because I stepped on the scales this morning and it’s monstrous (ah, that can be the third thing – nasty scales, irritating husband, kaput car. Yes. Can breathe out again).
Time for a cup of coffee, methinks. And a deep breath. The kids are watching Inkheart, and I’m going sound off until I’ve put a decent amount of words on paper.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
author on deadline and another great review
Current work: fiction (deadline mode – am at the ‘this book is pants and my editor will hate it’ stage)
Listening to: Bach
Reading: Louise Allen, The Disgraceful Mr Ravenhurst (Louise never disappoints, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the books so far in her Ravenhurst series. This is another good sensual read with an endearing, brave and funny heroine – a real bluestocking – and… You know they say never write a redhead hero? This one REALLY works!)
Right now I am on a seriously screaming deadline and trying to balance this with school holidays. (Inkheart is out on DVD and the children have money from one of their godmothers, so they’ve asked me to spend it on said film. So I’m spending the morning with them and this afternoon I have a guaranteed 90 minutes of working time. Bad parent? No. One who's trying to juggle and please everyone...)
And because I am on deadline and panicking just a little bit, am trying to flatten the crows. Here’s what lovely Debbie Wiley had to say about The Children’s Doctor’s Special Proposal over at Book Illuminations:
Katrina Gregory is determined never to get involved with a colleague again. Rhys Morgan doesn’t think he is capable of loving relationships. However, the attraction between the two of them is unmistakable, even as their very different perspectives clash. Can Katrina and Rhys find a happy medium for the love blossoming between them to flourish?
THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL is a sweet story that shows love growing and maturing. Kate Hardy doesn’t pressure her characters into falling in love but instead allows it to develop naturally. THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL is a love story in its purest form. The relationship between Katrina and Rhys is the central focus of the story without any other distractions. This technique allows the reader to really focus on the emotional impact of the storyline as Katrina and Rhys have to do some very weighty soul searching.
Kate Hardy also tackles a very sensitive subject in THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL. Katrina has a hearing impairment but it doesn’t stop her from being one heck of a doctor! Her past relationship has left her with fears about her hearing, but Kate Hardy shows another perspective through the eyes of Rhys. One scene in particular involving a cello is especially romantic.
THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL is just as the title promises. Kate Hardy delivers a superb romance that resonates beautifully with the reader. Bravo, Ms. Hardy!
Thank you, Debbie, for making my day and reminding me that I could write at one point. (Hopefully I can do it again. Having a bit of a crow attack this morning…)
Listening to: Bach
Reading: Louise Allen, The Disgraceful Mr Ravenhurst (Louise never disappoints, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the books so far in her Ravenhurst series. This is another good sensual read with an endearing, brave and funny heroine – a real bluestocking – and… You know they say never write a redhead hero? This one REALLY works!)
Right now I am on a seriously screaming deadline and trying to balance this with school holidays. (Inkheart is out on DVD and the children have money from one of their godmothers, so they’ve asked me to spend it on said film. So I’m spending the morning with them and this afternoon I have a guaranteed 90 minutes of working time. Bad parent? No. One who's trying to juggle and please everyone...)
And because I am on deadline and panicking just a little bit, am trying to flatten the crows. Here’s what lovely Debbie Wiley had to say about The Children’s Doctor’s Special Proposal over at Book Illuminations:
Katrina Gregory is determined never to get involved with a colleague again. Rhys Morgan doesn’t think he is capable of loving relationships. However, the attraction between the two of them is unmistakable, even as their very different perspectives clash. Can Katrina and Rhys find a happy medium for the love blossoming between them to flourish?
THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL is a sweet story that shows love growing and maturing. Kate Hardy doesn’t pressure her characters into falling in love but instead allows it to develop naturally. THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL is a love story in its purest form. The relationship between Katrina and Rhys is the central focus of the story without any other distractions. This technique allows the reader to really focus on the emotional impact of the storyline as Katrina and Rhys have to do some very weighty soul searching.
Kate Hardy also tackles a very sensitive subject in THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL. Katrina has a hearing impairment but it doesn’t stop her from being one heck of a doctor! Her past relationship has left her with fears about her hearing, but Kate Hardy shows another perspective through the eyes of Rhys. One scene in particular involving a cello is especially romantic.
THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL is just as the title promises. Kate Hardy delivers a superb romance that resonates beautifully with the reader. Bravo, Ms. Hardy!
Thank you, Debbie, for making my day and reminding me that I could write at one point. (Hopefully I can do it again. Having a bit of a crow attack this morning…)
Monday, April 13, 2009
Happy Easter and an amazing review
Current work: fiction
Listening to: John Martyn (DH has control of the music…)
Reading: Anne McAllister, Savas’ Defiant Mistress (great characterisation, loved the setting, adored the dog – recommended read)
Hope everyone has had as nice a holiday weekend as we have. Includes much playing of board games, seeing Bolt (very, very funny), some lie-ins with good books (will be posting my thoughts on those later in the week), family time, baking (Madam desperately wanted to make the cookies from Cathy Cassidy’s “Ginger Snaps”, so we did it on Easter Sunday when the grandparents could also try them), oh, and watching the new episode of Dr Who (which I thought was a bit derivative – enjoyed it, but… Lara Croft, anyone?). (And I squeezed in some work. Yay.)
And I had an especially nice Easter pressie: a truly fabulous review from Coffee Time Romance. FIVE CUPS, no less. Which, as their website says, means ‘Ultra Rare Extraordinary Read. Not many books will be rated a 5. It is a superior work’.
Colour me delighted. It’s always nice to get a good review, but this book is particularly personal - there’s an awful lot of me in Kat, as people who know me well have pointed out, and the depiction of her deafness is 100% accurate as it’s my own disability (not that I consider myself disabled – it’s just a little thing I sometimes have to work round).
Anyway, this is what Lori had to say:
The characters in this story are as strong and sexy as they are sensitive and sweet. Kat is so loving and compassionate that no matter what life throws at her, she will always look for the rainbow. There is certainly nothing wrong with the strong silent type, and Rhys fits the mold perfectly. Their story just goes to show that you can have a wonderfully hot romance, with a plot that does include the darker moments, but without the need for nasty language and bitter feuds. This is a pleasure to read, not only for its romance, but also for its intelligence and honesty.
You can read the full review here.
Thank you, Lori, for making my day.
Listening to: John Martyn (DH has control of the music…)
Reading: Anne McAllister, Savas’ Defiant Mistress (great characterisation, loved the setting, adored the dog – recommended read)
Hope everyone has had as nice a holiday weekend as we have. Includes much playing of board games, seeing Bolt (very, very funny), some lie-ins with good books (will be posting my thoughts on those later in the week), family time, baking (Madam desperately wanted to make the cookies from Cathy Cassidy’s “Ginger Snaps”, so we did it on Easter Sunday when the grandparents could also try them), oh, and watching the new episode of Dr Who (which I thought was a bit derivative – enjoyed it, but… Lara Croft, anyone?). (And I squeezed in some work. Yay.)
And I had an especially nice Easter pressie: a truly fabulous review from Coffee Time Romance. FIVE CUPS, no less. Which, as their website says, means ‘Ultra Rare Extraordinary Read. Not many books will be rated a 5. It is a superior work’.
Colour me delighted. It’s always nice to get a good review, but this book is particularly personal - there’s an awful lot of me in Kat, as people who know me well have pointed out, and the depiction of her deafness is 100% accurate as it’s my own disability (not that I consider myself disabled – it’s just a little thing I sometimes have to work round).
Anyway, this is what Lori had to say:
The characters in this story are as strong and sexy as they are sensitive and sweet. Kat is so loving and compassionate that no matter what life throws at her, she will always look for the rainbow. There is certainly nothing wrong with the strong silent type, and Rhys fits the mold perfectly. Their story just goes to show that you can have a wonderfully hot romance, with a plot that does include the darker moments, but without the need for nasty language and bitter feuds. This is a pleasure to read, not only for its romance, but also for its intelligence and honesty.
You can read the full review here.
Thank you, Lori, for making my day.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
some excellent news
Current work: fiction
Listening to: Sheryl Crow
Reading: Nicola Cornick, Unmasked (enjoying this one hugely)
Yesterday, I think I made the fastest sale of my life. Not even a proper outline. I sent a seriously brief suggestion to my ed, expecting him to remind me that there's a recession on and to say he'd think about it if I sent a proper outline in, but he emailed me straight back, saying, ‘Delivery when?’ April next year, to give me time to do the pics (this one is Essex). Result: ‘Contract on way to Dot.’
Blimey! Had to write a quick email to my lovely agent to apologise for inadvertently jumping the gun.
OK, so local history doesn’t pay: but this is food for the soul. It means that I have two new books to think about now, and most importantly this gives me my safety valve for the next year’s worth of sticky patches. (This is advance planning rather than paranoia, by the way: Dad’s illness isn’t predictable, so we have OK patches and bad patches. Research gets me through the bad bits. Think that’s why the last bad one hit me so hard – I didn’t have anything officially lined up at that point.)
Had a fantastic day out with the kids yesterday. The plan was to see Bolt, but it was an afternoon performance and I prefer morning ones (so we also get lunch out and a bit of pottering about, and then get home just before DH, so I can go back to work without feeling guilty). So we went to see Monsters vs Aliens… the 3D version.
I was blown away by the animation and the sheer detail. When something hit the ground, you actually saw the dust flying up. And the 3D effects… they’re not like when I was a kid (or even like it was when my two were a bit younger – one of the Spy Kids films came out as a 3D version). For a start, the glasses aren’t cardboard, with one eye covered in red and one in green or blue. These are like ordinary glasses, with grey/blue lenses. And if you take the glasses off during the film (of course I did – I wanted to see how it worked), the picture is faintly fuzzy but otherwise the same as the normal film – no garish pink and green haloes like you get in the old-fashioned ones.
There were also trailers in 3D. One was for Coralline (a possibility, though Madam might find it a bit too scary) and another for Ice Age 3 (that’s a definite – I enjoyed the first one a lot, though why has it taken me so long to twig that lovely Ray Romano does the voiceover?).
Verdict on the film? The storyline wasn’t gripping, but the animation was good enough to keep me going, and I think the experience was worth the premium ticket price.
Bolt will be tomorrow’s treat (plus a visit to my mate Steve's exhibition).
Plan for today: wait in for the weekly shop delivery, then run errands for Dad and take the kids to visit him.
The other event yesterday was that my new Pandora glass bead arrived. In the catalogue, it looks magenta. In the flesh, it was much paler, so I was quite disappointed. Princess Style Queen mentioned that it fits her colour scheme far more than mine, and she was absolutely right: I handed it over. While we were examining the difference between the catalogue and the bead itself, I showed her the new gold Murano glass beads - and the one I really like (I've seen it, and it's gorgeous). 'Oooh, yes! Now THAT would look really nice on your bracelet...' Yup, but the price is a tad over my guilt threshold, and it might push DH into an enormous hissy fit. As I want him to build me another bookcase (yes, I could build it myself - but he's the one with the estate car, so I need him to pick it up for me), I decided to play it safe...
Listening to: Sheryl Crow
Reading: Nicola Cornick, Unmasked (enjoying this one hugely)
Yesterday, I think I made the fastest sale of my life. Not even a proper outline. I sent a seriously brief suggestion to my ed, expecting him to remind me that there's a recession on and to say he'd think about it if I sent a proper outline in, but he emailed me straight back, saying, ‘Delivery when?’ April next year, to give me time to do the pics (this one is Essex). Result: ‘Contract on way to Dot.’
Blimey! Had to write a quick email to my lovely agent to apologise for inadvertently jumping the gun.
OK, so local history doesn’t pay: but this is food for the soul. It means that I have two new books to think about now, and most importantly this gives me my safety valve for the next year’s worth of sticky patches. (This is advance planning rather than paranoia, by the way: Dad’s illness isn’t predictable, so we have OK patches and bad patches. Research gets me through the bad bits. Think that’s why the last bad one hit me so hard – I didn’t have anything officially lined up at that point.)
Had a fantastic day out with the kids yesterday. The plan was to see Bolt, but it was an afternoon performance and I prefer morning ones (so we also get lunch out and a bit of pottering about, and then get home just before DH, so I can go back to work without feeling guilty). So we went to see Monsters vs Aliens… the 3D version.
I was blown away by the animation and the sheer detail. When something hit the ground, you actually saw the dust flying up. And the 3D effects… they’re not like when I was a kid (or even like it was when my two were a bit younger – one of the Spy Kids films came out as a 3D version). For a start, the glasses aren’t cardboard, with one eye covered in red and one in green or blue. These are like ordinary glasses, with grey/blue lenses. And if you take the glasses off during the film (of course I did – I wanted to see how it worked), the picture is faintly fuzzy but otherwise the same as the normal film – no garish pink and green haloes like you get in the old-fashioned ones.
There were also trailers in 3D. One was for Coralline (a possibility, though Madam might find it a bit too scary) and another for Ice Age 3 (that’s a definite – I enjoyed the first one a lot, though why has it taken me so long to twig that lovely Ray Romano does the voiceover?).
Verdict on the film? The storyline wasn’t gripping, but the animation was good enough to keep me going, and I think the experience was worth the premium ticket price.
Bolt will be tomorrow’s treat (plus a visit to my mate Steve's exhibition).
Plan for today: wait in for the weekly shop delivery, then run errands for Dad and take the kids to visit him.
The other event yesterday was that my new Pandora glass bead arrived. In the catalogue, it looks magenta. In the flesh, it was much paler, so I was quite disappointed. Princess Style Queen mentioned that it fits her colour scheme far more than mine, and she was absolutely right: I handed it over. While we were examining the difference between the catalogue and the bead itself, I showed her the new gold Murano glass beads - and the one I really like (I've seen it, and it's gorgeous). 'Oooh, yes! Now THAT would look really nice on your bracelet...' Yup, but the price is a tad over my guilt threshold, and it might push DH into an enormous hissy fit. As I want him to build me another bookcase (yes, I could build it myself - but he's the one with the estate car, so I need him to pick it up for me), I decided to play it safe...
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
A new place, more website stuff, and a clone
Current work: fiction
Listening to: Alison Moyet
Reading: Nicola Cornick, Unmasked (this one’s a real treat)
Mills and Boon have set up a social website (aka the UK version of the eHarlequin boards). It’s here if you want to go and check it out. The site launched yesterday afternoon, and I’m so looking forward to it – I enjoy going to the eHarl boards (even though I don’t go there as often as I’d like – dear lovely ed, I am not playing on the internet: I am working, honest) and I’ve made some really good real-life friends as well as cyber-friends there. I’m hoping to do the same here.
Website: thanks, everyone, who took the trouble to answer my website dilemma yesterday. I’m working on a revamped books page which I’ll put up at the end of the month – after my deadline! The plan is to show thumbnail covers, plus clickable links in a list (newest title first – and linked books have been separated out from the standalone ones) with dates. I’m also planning to do three booklists rather than the single one I have at the moment – i.e. one for the UK, one for the US and one for Aus/NZ. (Do I need a fourth, for ebooks?) I'll split the ‘coming soon’ section into three, so it’s tidier and you don’t have to look through a whole column to find out when my books are coming out in your country. So hopefully it will make life easier for readers…
As for the clone: I’ve wanted a clone for ages, and now it seems I might have one… with a twist or two.
We spent yesterday playing board games. Madam beat me at Scrabble (though currently we play so that we can see each other’s letters; I’ll swap letters with her if she can see a good word but doesn’t have what she needs, and we try to open up the board rather than have a tedious defensive game – but we’re at the stage now where she can see the word on her own instead of needing hints from me). And then she suggested something that surprised me. ‘We could play in French. Look, I’ve got tête.’ Ye-e-es… and the circumflex? ‘That’s OK. We’ll just pretend it’s there. But I’ll tell you how it’s spelled properly. You could do German or Italian if you like.’ Honey, apart from numbers, you don’t know any German or Italian. ‘That’s OK. You can teach me.’
Uh. She’s EIGHT.
Mind you, at eight years old, if I’d had an adult at home who could speak another language then I too would’ve suggested playing in French. She announced to her teacher last week that she’s going to be a writer when she grows up (she’s done that with every teacher since she turned six – just like her mother); she’s writing scifi stuff (which I did at her age); and she makes me buy her lots of notebooks (hmm… I used to be very fond of those Challenge books with the carbon paper in the middle). She also has three reading books on the go – one by her bed, one in the car and one in her schoolbag. (I have one by my bed, one in the kitchen and a couple in my office.) And school has given up making her do the reading scheme and is letting her read whatever she likes because she moaned about being bored and got her mother to write a note… (This is getting very spooky. Snap.)
And she ran a stall at her school’s fundraiser last week. (OK, so I don’t do it right now – due to the difficult stuff in my life, I don’t have time to breathe, let alone anything else – but I’ve done fundraising since my student days.)
The big difference between us is that she’s inherited the style gene that bypassed me.
I have a feeling that my mini-me could really take over the world.
Plan for today: it’s going to pour all day, so we’re off to the cinema to see ‘Bolt’.
Listening to: Alison Moyet
Reading: Nicola Cornick, Unmasked (this one’s a real treat)
Mills and Boon have set up a social website (aka the UK version of the eHarlequin boards). It’s here if you want to go and check it out. The site launched yesterday afternoon, and I’m so looking forward to it – I enjoy going to the eHarl boards (even though I don’t go there as often as I’d like – dear lovely ed, I am not playing on the internet: I am working, honest) and I’ve made some really good real-life friends as well as cyber-friends there. I’m hoping to do the same here.
Website: thanks, everyone, who took the trouble to answer my website dilemma yesterday. I’m working on a revamped books page which I’ll put up at the end of the month – after my deadline! The plan is to show thumbnail covers, plus clickable links in a list (newest title first – and linked books have been separated out from the standalone ones) with dates. I’m also planning to do three booklists rather than the single one I have at the moment – i.e. one for the UK, one for the US and one for Aus/NZ. (Do I need a fourth, for ebooks?) I'll split the ‘coming soon’ section into three, so it’s tidier and you don’t have to look through a whole column to find out when my books are coming out in your country. So hopefully it will make life easier for readers…
As for the clone: I’ve wanted a clone for ages, and now it seems I might have one… with a twist or two.
We spent yesterday playing board games. Madam beat me at Scrabble (though currently we play so that we can see each other’s letters; I’ll swap letters with her if she can see a good word but doesn’t have what she needs, and we try to open up the board rather than have a tedious defensive game – but we’re at the stage now where she can see the word on her own instead of needing hints from me). And then she suggested something that surprised me. ‘We could play in French. Look, I’ve got tête.’ Ye-e-es… and the circumflex? ‘That’s OK. We’ll just pretend it’s there. But I’ll tell you how it’s spelled properly. You could do German or Italian if you like.’ Honey, apart from numbers, you don’t know any German or Italian. ‘That’s OK. You can teach me.’
Uh. She’s EIGHT.
Mind you, at eight years old, if I’d had an adult at home who could speak another language then I too would’ve suggested playing in French. She announced to her teacher last week that she’s going to be a writer when she grows up (she’s done that with every teacher since she turned six – just like her mother); she’s writing scifi stuff (which I did at her age); and she makes me buy her lots of notebooks (hmm… I used to be very fond of those Challenge books with the carbon paper in the middle). She also has three reading books on the go – one by her bed, one in the car and one in her schoolbag. (I have one by my bed, one in the kitchen and a couple in my office.) And school has given up making her do the reading scheme and is letting her read whatever she likes because she moaned about being bored and got her mother to write a note… (This is getting very spooky. Snap.)
And she ran a stall at her school’s fundraiser last week. (OK, so I don’t do it right now – due to the difficult stuff in my life, I don’t have time to breathe, let alone anything else – but I’ve done fundraising since my student days.)
The big difference between us is that she’s inherited the style gene that bypassed me.
I have a feeling that my mini-me could really take over the world.
Plan for today: it’s going to pour all day, so we’re off to the cinema to see ‘Bolt’.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Website dilemma and ‘Best of Bosses’
Current work: fiction
Listening to: Bach
Reading: Animal Instincts, Nell Dixon (enjoyed this – made me laugh out loud for the right reasons, and I particularly liked Dave the Parrot); The Valtieri Marriage Deal, Caroline Anderson (enjoyed this one, too – and I’ll have to ring her and nag her to write Luca’s brothers’ stories).
Spend the weekend mainly working, though we did go out to see friends on Saturday. AND I updated my website (yeah yeah, not before time). I think my Books page needs revamping. I mean, it’s fine if you have a short backlist. You can do lots with covers and it looks pretty instead of going on and on and on… whereas if you have a backlist that’s more than 30 books long, it’s a pain for the reader to scroll down to find the one they want if they have to bypass a list of covers and ISBNs and publication date and... (yada, yada, yada).
So I think it’d be easier for readers if I gave a list with clickable links to the titles.
But said list also needs refining – because a list of 30-odd titles in a lump is just not user-friendly. So. Do I put them in order of publication? Reverse order of publication? Alphabetical order? Do I split the Modern Heats from the Medicals? Do I then split them into mini-series and standalone? Because Medical readers like themes, do I say whether it’s an A&E book or a children’s ward or a GP surgery? Do I mention which ones were shortlisted/won awards/were a Waldies bestseller?
In short, what do you look for when you look at an author’s books pages?
Was just checking my new cover on Amazon when I discovered that I have a new ebook bundle out. I’m with Cathy Williams and Barbara Hannay in the ‘Best of Bosses 2008’ bundle. The book is ‘In Bed with Her Italian Boss’, aka my RNA award-winning book Breakfast at Giovanni’s. And you can find it here at e-Harl or on Amazon in a Kindle edition.
Listening to: Bach
Reading: Animal Instincts, Nell Dixon (enjoyed this – made me laugh out loud for the right reasons, and I particularly liked Dave the Parrot); The Valtieri Marriage Deal, Caroline Anderson (enjoyed this one, too – and I’ll have to ring her and nag her to write Luca’s brothers’ stories).
Spend the weekend mainly working, though we did go out to see friends on Saturday. AND I updated my website (yeah yeah, not before time). I think my Books page needs revamping. I mean, it’s fine if you have a short backlist. You can do lots with covers and it looks pretty instead of going on and on and on… whereas if you have a backlist that’s more than 30 books long, it’s a pain for the reader to scroll down to find the one they want if they have to bypass a list of covers and ISBNs and publication date and... (yada, yada, yada).
So I think it’d be easier for readers if I gave a list with clickable links to the titles.
But said list also needs refining – because a list of 30-odd titles in a lump is just not user-friendly. So. Do I put them in order of publication? Reverse order of publication? Alphabetical order? Do I split the Modern Heats from the Medicals? Do I then split them into mini-series and standalone? Because Medical readers like themes, do I say whether it’s an A&E book or a children’s ward or a GP surgery? Do I mention which ones were shortlisted/won awards/were a Waldies bestseller?
In short, what do you look for when you look at an author’s books pages?
Was just checking my new cover on Amazon when I discovered that I have a new ebook bundle out. I’m with Cathy Williams and Barbara Hannay in the ‘Best of Bosses 2008’ bundle. The book is ‘In Bed with Her Italian Boss’, aka my RNA award-winning book Breakfast at Giovanni’s. And you can find it here at e-Harl or on Amazon in a Kindle edition.
Plan for today: looks as if today is the only day this week without heavy rain. Will ask the kids what they fancy doing…
PS Go and congratulate Jan Jones, as she has some great news!
Friday, April 03, 2009
All Greek to me…
Current work: proofs and fiction
Listening to: Bach
Reading: A Thousand Days in Venice, Marlene de Blasi – even though it was written in first-person present tense (which isn’t my favourite), I enjoyed this – particularly the recipes and the descriptions of Venice. One day…
Thanks to lovely Michelle Styles giving me the heads-up that the Harlequin Greek site is up and running, I discovered that Sold to the Highest Bidder is out in Greece. Here, for your delectation, is the blurb… (And yes, I know the title of this post is a bad pun. Humour me. Bad puns are one of my guilty pleasures. Do feel free to share more in the comments!)
Αργά ή γρήγορα, θα υπέκυπτε…Ο Τζακ Γκόνταρντ ήταν ένας άνθρωπος που ήξερε τι ήθελε –κι έπαιρνε πάντα αυτό που ήθελε. Τώρα, σκόπευε ν' αγοράσει το πατρικό της Αλίσια Μπέρεσφοντ, ένα πανέμορφο παλιό αρχοντικό στην αγγλική ύπαιθρο. Αλλά, εκτός από το σπίτι, τον ενδιέφερε πολύ και η ίδια. Είχε καιρό να νιώσει τόσο έντονο πόθο για μια γυναίκα. Έτσι, της πρότεινε να συνεχίσει να ζει εκεί και να φροντίζει τους κήπους.
Η Αλίσια διαφωνούσε με τις ριζοσπαστικές μετατροπές που σχεδίαζε να κάνει ο Τζακ, και δέχτηκε την προσφορά του για να μπορεί να επιβλέπει τις εργασίες. Ωστόσο, ήταν ο πιο συναρπαστικός άντρας που είχε γνωρίσει ποτέ της. Όσο περισσότερο χρόνο περνούσε μαζί του, τόσο πιο δύσκολο της ήταν ν' αντισταθεί στην πολιορκία του. Και η ιδέα μιας εφήμερης ερωτικής περιπέτειες μαζί του φαινόταν ολοένα και πιο δελεαστική…
Statement meeting was really positive yesterday and I was very pleased with the outcome. One less thing to worry about.
Posting late this morning as I was a bad puppy and nipped into town. I have a craving for mango and crayfish salad (note – healthier than chocolate…) and I also needed a couple of tops as my two favourites have practically fallen to bits. Could have gone next week (Easter hols) BUT the kids loathe clothes-shopping and I’m planning two weeks of having fun and relaxing. Style-queen daughter will be moaning at me, though – she says I live in black trousers and plain tops. Yep. And I have several pairs of the same trousers – one on, a couple off, and a couple in the wash. I did try on a different colour today, but it wasn't me; I'm happy in this particular rut.
Today is my last proper full day of work for a fortnight – it’s school hols. Plan is to get up at normal time, and work while they sleep in; then I can spend the days with them, doing things and having fun. We’re planning to go to the glass factory (and see glass being blown) and the cinema, and everything else will depend on the weather.
Listening to: Bach
Reading: A Thousand Days in Venice, Marlene de Blasi – even though it was written in first-person present tense (which isn’t my favourite), I enjoyed this – particularly the recipes and the descriptions of Venice. One day…
Thanks to lovely Michelle Styles giving me the heads-up that the Harlequin Greek site is up and running, I discovered that Sold to the Highest Bidder is out in Greece. Here, for your delectation, is the blurb… (And yes, I know the title of this post is a bad pun. Humour me. Bad puns are one of my guilty pleasures. Do feel free to share more in the comments!)
Αργά ή γρήγορα, θα υπέκυπτε…Ο Τζακ Γκόνταρντ ήταν ένας άνθρωπος που ήξερε τι ήθελε –κι έπαιρνε πάντα αυτό που ήθελε. Τώρα, σκόπευε ν' αγοράσει το πατρικό της Αλίσια Μπέρεσφοντ, ένα πανέμορφο παλιό αρχοντικό στην αγγλική ύπαιθρο. Αλλά, εκτός από το σπίτι, τον ενδιέφερε πολύ και η ίδια. Είχε καιρό να νιώσει τόσο έντονο πόθο για μια γυναίκα. Έτσι, της πρότεινε να συνεχίσει να ζει εκεί και να φροντίζει τους κήπους.
Η Αλίσια διαφωνούσε με τις ριζοσπαστικές μετατροπές που σχεδίαζε να κάνει ο Τζακ, και δέχτηκε την προσφορά του για να μπορεί να επιβλέπει τις εργασίες. Ωστόσο, ήταν ο πιο συναρπαστικός άντρας που είχε γνωρίσει ποτέ της. Όσο περισσότερο χρόνο περνούσε μαζί του, τόσο πιο δύσκολο της ήταν ν' αντισταθεί στην πολιορκία του. Και η ιδέα μιας εφήμερης ερωτικής περιπέτειες μαζί του φαινόταν ολοένα και πιο δελεαστική…
Statement meeting was really positive yesterday and I was very pleased with the outcome. One less thing to worry about.
Posting late this morning as I was a bad puppy and nipped into town. I have a craving for mango and crayfish salad (note – healthier than chocolate…) and I also needed a couple of tops as my two favourites have practically fallen to bits. Could have gone next week (Easter hols) BUT the kids loathe clothes-shopping and I’m planning two weeks of having fun and relaxing. Style-queen daughter will be moaning at me, though – she says I live in black trousers and plain tops. Yep. And I have several pairs of the same trousers – one on, a couple off, and a couple in the wash. I did try on a different colour today, but it wasn't me; I'm happy in this particular rut.
Today is my last proper full day of work for a fortnight – it’s school hols. Plan is to get up at normal time, and work while they sleep in; then I can spend the days with them, doing things and having fun. We’re planning to go to the glass factory (and see glass being blown) and the cinema, and everything else will depend on the weather.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
One of *those* days…
Current work: proofs and fiction
Listening to: Bach
Reading: next on TBR pile
The plan yesterday was: go into town, run some errands and do some shopping, then meet Ali. The traffic was a bit heavy on the way in, but I managed to park, went into Hotel Chocolat and sorted out stuff for the kids (and Ali’s)… and discovered at the cash desk that my wallet was not in my handbag.
I knew exactly where it was. Sitting on my desk. I’d decided that, as life is a bit miserable right now, I’d put some sparkle into someone else’s life to cheer myself up, so I sent my favourite uncle and aunt some Easter goodies via Hotel Chocolat’s website before I left home – and forgot to put my wallet back in my handbag.
Luckily I had enough cash in the bottom of my handbag to get me out of the car park. Drove home. Noted how heavy the traffic had become in the other direction. Picked up wallet. Took a different route into town and parked in a different car park. Had twenty minutes instead of just over an hour to get everything sorted. Didn’t get to Waterstone’s, but managed to run to Hotel Chocolat and the bank, and made it back to meet Ali just in time. Lovely lunch (quite restrained, actually; crème brulee was not on the menu, or I would have been naughtier. And the latte was fabulous). Picked up another handwriting pen to replace the one that Madam lost, bought cartridges for son’s pen, nipped into Sonkai and was reasonably good (a spacer. Oh, all right, and a bead. Lovely black mother-of-pearl – which has all sorts of tones of green and gold and blue and purple in it). Back to car park. Machine would NOT accept my money. Pressed the help button. ‘Try another machine,’ said the security guy. I did – but, because I had to queue again, that delayed me and the machine said I had to pay for an extra hour’s parking… Uhh. The wonders of technology.
Then I decided to go to the M&B website and order some extra copies of my last Medical (competition entries etc). Thwarted there, too as M&B had sold out... (I know this is a good thing, really. But I wasn't expecting it!)
Today, I’d like a nice quiet morning so I can get my proofs done and a nice chunk of fiction before my meeting at school this afternoon. Pretty please with sugar on it?
Listening to: Bach
Reading: next on TBR pile
The plan yesterday was: go into town, run some errands and do some shopping, then meet Ali. The traffic was a bit heavy on the way in, but I managed to park, went into Hotel Chocolat and sorted out stuff for the kids (and Ali’s)… and discovered at the cash desk that my wallet was not in my handbag.
I knew exactly where it was. Sitting on my desk. I’d decided that, as life is a bit miserable right now, I’d put some sparkle into someone else’s life to cheer myself up, so I sent my favourite uncle and aunt some Easter goodies via Hotel Chocolat’s website before I left home – and forgot to put my wallet back in my handbag.
Luckily I had enough cash in the bottom of my handbag to get me out of the car park. Drove home. Noted how heavy the traffic had become in the other direction. Picked up wallet. Took a different route into town and parked in a different car park. Had twenty minutes instead of just over an hour to get everything sorted. Didn’t get to Waterstone’s, but managed to run to Hotel Chocolat and the bank, and made it back to meet Ali just in time. Lovely lunch (quite restrained, actually; crème brulee was not on the menu, or I would have been naughtier. And the latte was fabulous). Picked up another handwriting pen to replace the one that Madam lost, bought cartridges for son’s pen, nipped into Sonkai and was reasonably good (a spacer. Oh, all right, and a bead. Lovely black mother-of-pearl – which has all sorts of tones of green and gold and blue and purple in it). Back to car park. Machine would NOT accept my money. Pressed the help button. ‘Try another machine,’ said the security guy. I did – but, because I had to queue again, that delayed me and the machine said I had to pay for an extra hour’s parking… Uhh. The wonders of technology.
Then I decided to go to the M&B website and order some extra copies of my last Medical (competition entries etc). Thwarted there, too as M&B had sold out... (I know this is a good thing, really. But I wasn't expecting it!)
Today, I’d like a nice quiet morning so I can get my proofs done and a nice chunk of fiction before my meeting at school this afternoon. Pretty please with sugar on it?
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
April Calendar – and finished
Current work: fiction
Listening to: Keith Urban
Reading: next on TBR pile
Here’s the calendar pic for April…
Yesterday, I cancelled guitar so I could make a last push to finish the Suffolk book and give me space to focus on the other book. Finished it; printed it out; copied the Word files and jpgs to a CD-rom… and couldn’t find the marker pen to label the disk (DH had borrowed the pen – typical man, never puts things back. My office might look like a tip but I know where things are). But it’s ready to go to the post office on the way home from school today.
I’m not exactly in a post-book slump, as I have another screaming deadline. But I do need a day to clear my head and get myself focused. Today is a matter of tidying my desk (it’s past my mess tolerance limits, plus there’s a royalty cheque in the ‘post inwards’ pile that needs to go in the bank today), having a thinking day to wrestle with a plot problem, plus taking my local best friend out for lunch as she’s having a milestone birthday. And I also need to sort out the stuff for the statement meeting tomorrow. This is one of those weeks where I just can’t fit everything in. I was asked yesterday if I’d give some talks to the local WI… and, regretfully, I had to say no. I would’ve really enjoyed that. But, with Dad taking a whole day of my work week, almost EVERY SINGLE WEEK, I simply don’t have the space to agree to any more commitments.
I would, however, like some more energy. And some patience. If anyone has any spare, do let me know…
Apologies – I’m feeling a bit ranty, today. The situation isn’t fixable, and as I’m the kind of person who’s good at fixing things (and usually successful), not being able to fix it is driving me crazy. I’m quite out of sorts and need a boost – and as I’m having lunch opposite Sonkai… Well. I might be good and stop at just a spacer. But I have a hankering for glass. (One particular bead. If it’s in stock.) It’s Easter hols next week, so methinks we’ll go and visit Langham Glass. Is sort of research for the book after next, but is also something that fascinates me: double win.
Glass half full. I’m out of contact for a couple of hours today, too. And nice lunch out. And seeing someone I’m very fond of. And I can pick up a couple of treats from the kids (have extracted their book wishlist, so this is going to be fun – have already ordered treats for DH, which arrived yesterday and he’s a happy bunny). So I can at least put a sparkle in their lives.
Listening to: Keith Urban
Reading: next on TBR pile
Here’s the calendar pic for April…
Yesterday, I cancelled guitar so I could make a last push to finish the Suffolk book and give me space to focus on the other book. Finished it; printed it out; copied the Word files and jpgs to a CD-rom… and couldn’t find the marker pen to label the disk (DH had borrowed the pen – typical man, never puts things back. My office might look like a tip but I know where things are). But it’s ready to go to the post office on the way home from school today.
I’m not exactly in a post-book slump, as I have another screaming deadline. But I do need a day to clear my head and get myself focused. Today is a matter of tidying my desk (it’s past my mess tolerance limits, plus there’s a royalty cheque in the ‘post inwards’ pile that needs to go in the bank today), having a thinking day to wrestle with a plot problem, plus taking my local best friend out for lunch as she’s having a milestone birthday. And I also need to sort out the stuff for the statement meeting tomorrow. This is one of those weeks where I just can’t fit everything in. I was asked yesterday if I’d give some talks to the local WI… and, regretfully, I had to say no. I would’ve really enjoyed that. But, with Dad taking a whole day of my work week, almost EVERY SINGLE WEEK, I simply don’t have the space to agree to any more commitments.
I would, however, like some more energy. And some patience. If anyone has any spare, do let me know…
Apologies – I’m feeling a bit ranty, today. The situation isn’t fixable, and as I’m the kind of person who’s good at fixing things (and usually successful), not being able to fix it is driving me crazy. I’m quite out of sorts and need a boost – and as I’m having lunch opposite Sonkai… Well. I might be good and stop at just a spacer. But I have a hankering for glass. (One particular bead. If it’s in stock.) It’s Easter hols next week, so methinks we’ll go and visit Langham Glass. Is sort of research for the book after next, but is also something that fascinates me: double win.
Glass half full. I’m out of contact for a couple of hours today, too. And nice lunch out. And seeing someone I’m very fond of. And I can pick up a couple of treats from the kids (have extracted their book wishlist, so this is going to be fun – have already ordered treats for DH, which arrived yesterday and he’s a happy bunny). So I can at least put a sparkle in their lives.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
And hugs for those who need them
A few of my friends are having a rough time at the moment. Particularly if you're a cat-lover, go and give Michelle Styles and Shirley Wells a hug. And Nicola Marsh.
Wishing all three of them a bit of sunshine.
Wishing all three of them a bit of sunshine.
the best sort of day
Current work: fic and nonfic
Listening to: Kate Rusby, Little Lights ('Who Will Sing Me Lullabies' is currently my fave track on the album)
Reading: various research stuff
I’m busy sorting two deadlines at the moment. I needed to do some last-minute research on one of the books, yesterday, so I spent the morning in my second favourite place in Norwich. (The first, since you ask, is the cathedral, including its precincts. Contrary to popular opinion, it is not Hotel Chocolate, M&S or Sonkai – though I admit they are my three favourite shops.)
I’m busy sorting two deadlines at the moment. I needed to do some last-minute research on one of the books, yesterday, so I spent the morning in my second favourite place in Norwich. (The first, since you ask, is the cathedral, including its precincts. Contrary to popular opinion, it is not Hotel Chocolate, M&S or Sonkai – though I admit they are my three favourite shops.)
This is the Forum. I adore this building. It’s light and airy; it has a great coffee-shop (which does the best latte art in Norwich – as I discovered when I researched Breakfast at Giovanni’s); it contains my lovely local radio station, and also a branch of Jarrold’s that stocks every single one of my local history titles; and, best of all, the library is here, including the Heritage Centre (a place where I can be lost for hours). There’s also an exhibition space in the middle of the ground floor – incidentally, my mate Steve Denby will be exhibiting his photographs there next month, so if you like truly stunning monochrome artwork, go and seek him out.
Anyway, I had a really productive morning. The books I wanted were all there (well, obviously – I scoped that out beforehand on the library’s website); the librarians were their usual wonderfully helpful selves and found all the obscure stuff I was after; and it was so nice to be completely uncontactable for a couple of hours and do what I enjoy. DH knew where I was, in case there was a real emergency, but it was wonderful just to lose myself in the archives and forget real life for a while.
Nipped into M&S on the way home, so I also had a perfect lunch: crayfish and mango salad with coconut-chili dressing. Note, I was good and didn’t buy crème brulee. Thought about it… but behaved.
Afternoon spent sorting pics on the book, retrieving my post from the dog (nobody in the house believes me, because they’re never here when the post comes, but Byron waits by the letterbox, gently pulls the post through… and then takes it off to his bed, wagging his tail madly), and putting a few more words down before I had to do the school run. And then it was back to mermaids. (Last week was fairies. This week is mermaids. My mate and fellow author Maggie Kingsley has dared me to sneak mermaids into the Medical. Ha. If my ed is reading this: I have a very innocent smile on my face...)
Plan for today: have cancelled guitar, as am up to my eyes and have meetings etc this week, so I need to get some time back. So today is final push on the nonfic, and sorting out a tangle in the fic (that has to be done in the back of my head, while I'm sorting the nonfic and checking continuity etc).
Monday, March 30, 2009
officially spring
Current work: fic and nonfic
Listening to: John Martyn (on the insistence of the senior member of my research crew - who takes the line that the driver chooses the music...)
Reading: various research stuff
We’re on British Summer Time now; so although we’re due a sharp frost and it was pretty cold yesterday, it’s officially spring.
Busy weekend; worked all day Saturday, and Sunday was a research trip over the border to Suffolk. Definitely spring, as there were lots of tiny lambs wobbling about in the fields and daffodils on the verges.
Southwold is famed for its beach huts; many of them have names as well as a number, and I was hugely amused by ‘Very Expensive Shed No 3’ – yup. These babies go for tens of thousands of pounds. Pretty, though.
Listening to: John Martyn (on the insistence of the senior member of my research crew - who takes the line that the driver chooses the music...)
Reading: various research stuff
We’re on British Summer Time now; so although we’re due a sharp frost and it was pretty cold yesterday, it’s officially spring.
Busy weekend; worked all day Saturday, and Sunday was a research trip over the border to Suffolk. Definitely spring, as there were lots of tiny lambs wobbling about in the fields and daffodils on the verges.
Southwold is famed for its beach huts; many of them have names as well as a number, and I was hugely amused by ‘Very Expensive Shed No 3’ – yup. These babies go for tens of thousands of pounds. Pretty, though.
In high season, I imagine Southwold is a bit overcrowded. But on a blowy March day, with storm clouds boiling over the North Sea, it was just lovely. Nothing beats a walk on the east coast to blow the cobwebs out and the miseries away.
Southwold is very pretty, full of little greens – these are natural firebreaks, included as part of the plans when the town was rebuilt in the mid-17th century after a serious fire.
We wandered round the town, and I took quite a few pics before paying my research team (aka buying them lunch and an ice cream).
And then we wandered by the church. There aren’t many clock jacks left (they used to strike the hour, though were muffled during church services); the other I know of is just round the corner from Southwold at Blythburgh, and apparently there’s one at Wells (Somerset) which is still attached to the clock. The lady in the church was absolutely lovely and let Madam pull the string to ring the bell, which pleased her immensely.
I was also very taken by the angels in the roof.
From Southwold, we headed for Walberswick. DH, grumbling about potholes: ‘Are you SURE this is a proper road?’ Stops and demands the map. Looks at it. Looks at me. ‘No. We’ll go the long way round.’ (He desperately wants SatNav, and unfortunately that little incident gave him ammunition. Still, at least I know what he wants for his birthday now.) Walberswick is very interesting (for my book, at least) because this is where George Orwell thought he saw a ghost – even timed and dated the occurrence in a letter.
This stretch of the coast always spooks me, whereas my home coast (just to the north) never does. Why? Just go and read MR James’s ‘O Whistle and I’ll Come to You, My Lad’. I’m a huge MRJ fan, but this story is probably best read on a sunny afternoon. Read it at twilight and, if you have a good imagination, you’ll lose sleep…
We wandered round the town, and I took quite a few pics before paying my research team (aka buying them lunch and an ice cream).
And then we wandered by the church. There aren’t many clock jacks left (they used to strike the hour, though were muffled during church services); the other I know of is just round the corner from Southwold at Blythburgh, and apparently there’s one at Wells (Somerset) which is still attached to the clock. The lady in the church was absolutely lovely and let Madam pull the string to ring the bell, which pleased her immensely.
I was also very taken by the angels in the roof.
From Southwold, we headed for Walberswick. DH, grumbling about potholes: ‘Are you SURE this is a proper road?’ Stops and demands the map. Looks at it. Looks at me. ‘No. We’ll go the long way round.’ (He desperately wants SatNav, and unfortunately that little incident gave him ammunition. Still, at least I know what he wants for his birthday now.) Walberswick is very interesting (for my book, at least) because this is where George Orwell thought he saw a ghost – even timed and dated the occurrence in a letter.
This stretch of the coast always spooks me, whereas my home coast (just to the north) never does. Why? Just go and read MR James’s ‘O Whistle and I’ll Come to You, My Lad’. I’m a huge MRJ fan, but this story is probably best read on a sunny afternoon. Read it at twilight and, if you have a good imagination, you’ll lose sleep…
Friday, March 27, 2009
lemonade
Current work: fic and nonfic; and proofs of Falling for the Playboy Millionaire (which used to be The Heart Surgeon’s Proposal - must update website)
Listening to: Alison Moyet, Voice
Reading: various research stuff
Real Life is a bit pants right now (British understatement). However, I am being very good and working on the ‘least said, soonest mended’ principle. Patience, Grasshopper.
My reward for dealing with the lemons?
Lemonade.
AKA a very nice review from Romantic Times, no less. Thanks to my lovely author mates Lynne Marshall for telling me that I got four stars FOR A MEDICAL ROMANCE (aka a Presents Extra) and Heidi Rice for telling me what the review said.
And a special thank you to Sabrina Madan at RT for liking my book.
This is what Sabrina said:
THE MILLIONAIRE BOSS'S RELUCTANT MISTRESS (4) by Kate Hardy: Sophie Harrison is prepared to dislike the new director of surgery on sight. After all, she's a dedicated surgeon, not a serf to Baron R.C. Radley, whose main talent appears to be providing filler for gossip rags. Charlie's first day on the job is delayed with fireworks, but it's the fireworks that go off in his heart when he meets Sophie that pose the real challenge. Sophie can't deny Charlie is mouthwateringly gorgeous, but she knows better than to let her painful history with the upper crust repeat itself. Can she see beyond Charlie's title to trust the man underneath? This riveting medical drama is the perfect backdrop for the tender romance between Sophie and Charlie.
Colour me happy. (Riveting. Oh-h-h. That particular r-word might just push me over the hump in this book. Which my wonderful ed has given me an extension on, as I’ve explained what’s happening around here.)
And yes, this is indeed the first in the ‘Posh Docs’ trilogy, which made my husband ask, ‘You named your hero after a handbag?’ The thing is, Radley handbags are not just any old handbags. They’re quirky, they’re brilliantly designed (i.e. they have enough pockets), and they feel lovely. Hmm. I could make a parallel with heroes, there. (No euphemisms intended. Stop sniggering at the back.)
DH is currently top of my ‘wonderful people’ list, as he’s been really supportive – I copied him in on a text on Wednesday and he came home for lunch to check that I was OK. And he bought us a curry last night so I didn’t have to cook and could catch up with my proofs. And he’s listened to me ranting (which is how come I can bite my tongue).
Wonder what he’d say if I told him he’s like a Radley handbag? (He’d probably think it was a plot to persuade him to buy me the new picture bag. The one with the little duckies on the back. And he might just be right…)
Listening to: Alison Moyet, Voice
Reading: various research stuff
Real Life is a bit pants right now (British understatement). However, I am being very good and working on the ‘least said, soonest mended’ principle. Patience, Grasshopper.
My reward for dealing with the lemons?
Lemonade.
AKA a very nice review from Romantic Times, no less. Thanks to my lovely author mates Lynne Marshall for telling me that I got four stars FOR A MEDICAL ROMANCE (aka a Presents Extra) and Heidi Rice for telling me what the review said.
And a special thank you to Sabrina Madan at RT for liking my book.
This is what Sabrina said:
THE MILLIONAIRE BOSS'S RELUCTANT MISTRESS (4) by Kate Hardy: Sophie Harrison is prepared to dislike the new director of surgery on sight. After all, she's a dedicated surgeon, not a serf to Baron R.C. Radley, whose main talent appears to be providing filler for gossip rags. Charlie's first day on the job is delayed with fireworks, but it's the fireworks that go off in his heart when he meets Sophie that pose the real challenge. Sophie can't deny Charlie is mouthwateringly gorgeous, but she knows better than to let her painful history with the upper crust repeat itself. Can she see beyond Charlie's title to trust the man underneath? This riveting medical drama is the perfect backdrop for the tender romance between Sophie and Charlie.
Colour me happy. (Riveting. Oh-h-h. That particular r-word might just push me over the hump in this book. Which my wonderful ed has given me an extension on, as I’ve explained what’s happening around here.)
And yes, this is indeed the first in the ‘Posh Docs’ trilogy, which made my husband ask, ‘You named your hero after a handbag?’ The thing is, Radley handbags are not just any old handbags. They’re quirky, they’re brilliantly designed (i.e. they have enough pockets), and they feel lovely. Hmm. I could make a parallel with heroes, there. (No euphemisms intended. Stop sniggering at the back.)
DH is currently top of my ‘wonderful people’ list, as he’s been really supportive – I copied him in on a text on Wednesday and he came home for lunch to check that I was OK. And he bought us a curry last night so I didn’t have to cook and could catch up with my proofs. And he’s listened to me ranting (which is how come I can bite my tongue).
Wonder what he’d say if I told him he’s like a Radley handbag? (He’d probably think it was a plot to persuade him to buy me the new picture bag. The one with the little duckies on the back. And he might just be right…)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
RITA congrats
Current work: fic and nonfic
Listening to: Alison Moyet, Voice (lovely - it's a covers album and, after hearing her rendition of 'Almost Blue', I think I understand why people rate Elvis Costello)
Reading: various research stuff
Am drawing a veil over yesterday. It’s January 2008 redux, so juggling real life etc is a tad tricky, and I’m running as fast as I can to slide backwards slowly. Methinks I’m going to be asking for deadline extensions YET AGAIN and it’s so frustrating. Wish I was the selfish type: then I could just claim I can’t cope and leave other people to deal with things. Sadly, am not; though at least it means I have a clear conscience. (And I’ve probably said too much. Time to shut up. This isn’t a dirty-laundry-washing blog.)
On the glass half-full side I would like to say special congrats to Lilian Darcy, Barbara Hannay, Jessica Hart and Anne McAllister for finalling in the Short Contemporary section of the RITAs. Great stuff and I’m very proud of them. And I’m also delighted that Jill Shalvis has been shortlisted for Best Novella. Jill’s one of my favourite writers (oh, go on, stick my neck out – I think she and Nancy Warren were the best of the old Temptation writers, and in my view they’re the best Blaze writers, too) and she’s also a warm, very funny woman; her blog is a daily treat.
Congrats to all the shortlistees - full listing is over on the RWA site, here. Fabulous news.
Here’s to romance. Long may it put sparkle into people’s lives.
Listening to: Alison Moyet, Voice (lovely - it's a covers album and, after hearing her rendition of 'Almost Blue', I think I understand why people rate Elvis Costello)
Reading: various research stuff
Am drawing a veil over yesterday. It’s January 2008 redux, so juggling real life etc is a tad tricky, and I’m running as fast as I can to slide backwards slowly. Methinks I’m going to be asking for deadline extensions YET AGAIN and it’s so frustrating. Wish I was the selfish type: then I could just claim I can’t cope and leave other people to deal with things. Sadly, am not; though at least it means I have a clear conscience. (And I’ve probably said too much. Time to shut up. This isn’t a dirty-laundry-washing blog.)
On the glass half-full side I would like to say special congrats to Lilian Darcy, Barbara Hannay, Jessica Hart and Anne McAllister for finalling in the Short Contemporary section of the RITAs. Great stuff and I’m very proud of them. And I’m also delighted that Jill Shalvis has been shortlisted for Best Novella. Jill’s one of my favourite writers (oh, go on, stick my neck out – I think she and Nancy Warren were the best of the old Temptation writers, and in my view they’re the best Blaze writers, too) and she’s also a warm, very funny woman; her blog is a daily treat.
Congrats to all the shortlistees - full listing is over on the RWA site, here. Fabulous news.
Here’s to romance. Long may it put sparkle into people’s lives.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Lovely review, puppies and congrats
Current work: fic and nonfic
Listening to: Bach
Reading: various research stuff
Am on screaming deadline and there’s some stressy real-life stuff going on (to do with Dad, so not blogging about it: just take it as read that he’s having a bad patch and it’s pretty upsetting), so forgive me for being slack on the blog front.
First up, lovely review from cataromance for The Children’s Doctor’s Special Proposal. See the full review here, but I’m going to share the trumpet-blowing stuff (hey, that’s what authors are supposed to do – it’s called PR, even though to this particular Brit it feels like showing off – and besides, I need a bit of anti-crow material today):
Listening to: Bach
Reading: various research stuff
Am on screaming deadline and there’s some stressy real-life stuff going on (to do with Dad, so not blogging about it: just take it as read that he’s having a bad patch and it’s pretty upsetting), so forgive me for being slack on the blog front.
First up, lovely review from cataromance for The Children’s Doctor’s Special Proposal. See the full review here, but I’m going to share the trumpet-blowing stuff (hey, that’s what authors are supposed to do – it’s called PR, even though to this particular Brit it feels like showing off – and besides, I need a bit of anti-crow material today):
Kate Hardy never ceases to amaze me! She is amazingly prolific and consistently delivers enchanting and engrossing romantic novels that never fail to make me laugh and cry. In The Children Doctor’s Special Proposal, she has created two wonderful characters – strong, smart and adorable Katrina who is simply inspirational and gorgeous Rhys, a thoroughly believable and well-rounded hero every woman would just love to love. The Children Doctor’s Special Proposal is a sensitively written, intensely moving and wonderfully captivating Medical Romance from a writer who is simply superb: Kate Hardy!
Thank you, Julie Bonello, for putting a smile on my face on what’s been a bit of a tough week.
Secondly, I have puppy envy. Go and see my mate Pat’s new addition to her family here.
And thirdly, because I’m trying very hard to do the glass half-full bit, let me share with you the tale of a dopey author. I have caller ID on my phone. When I see ‘international’, I think ‘call centre being irritating’ or ‘ah... possible scam that will give me a big phone bill’. So last night, the phone rang. Caller ID said international. Only after I’d ignored it did it hit me: the RITA phone calls are going out at the moment. Had I just ignored a call that would’ve been a really, really nice call to take?
Well, here I am 12 hours later with no return phone call, so I’m guessing my original thoughts were correct. I probably got completely the wrong day for RITA calls (I can’t get my head around time differences, and it’s worse when I’m talking to my author mates in Aussie and the US at the same time and it’s a different day for both of them.) But it was nice to think, for just a few minutes, that I might be a star.
However, I do know someone who is a star and has just been shortlisted for the CRW Award of Excellence, so do go and congratulate lovely Liz Fielding.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Ancient glass
Current work: fic and nonfic
Listening to: John Martyn (DH insisted)
Reading: various research stuff
Busy weekend. Friday, stayed up late with DH watching a bio of John Martyn, followed by a concert.
Busy weekend. Friday, stayed up late with DH watching a bio of John Martyn, followed by a concert.
Saturday involved taking the last pics for the new nonfic. Last time we were in Ipswich, I couldn’t take most of the pics, owing to the buildings in question being covered in scaffolding. This time, they were all free from scaffolding, the light was in the right direction (I’d sussed last time that we needed afternoon shots) and it was a glorious, glorious day. My camera battery was on the point of expiring, but there was just enough power left to take what I needed.
We also stopped off at one of my ‘obscure little churches’ on the way home – for the same book, but this was a 13th-century chapel which was used as a barn, but has been... not restored, exactly. But it’s how it would’ve been in the 13th century. (Except there would have been no benches. Seating hadn't quite come in.)
We also stopped off at one of my ‘obscure little churches’ on the way home – for the same book, but this was a 13th-century chapel which was used as a barn, but has been... not restored, exactly. But it’s how it would’ve been in the 13th century. (Except there would have been no benches. Seating hadn't quite come in.)
And with yesterday being Mother’s Day in the UK... obviously it meant a trip by DH to see his mum, a trip by me to see my stepmum and put flowers on my mum’s grave (and I’ll be calling the parish council this week, when I’m capable of sounding reasonable, to ask why the ‘push pot’ I use for fresh flowers has been removed, when I haven’t been notified that there is a problem using them and other people have them). And then, as it was sunny, the four of us went out after lunch. Given that it was Mother’s Day, it was my choice. I suggested Blickling, but on the way we stopped to see some wall paintings.
This is Doubting Thomas, from St Faith’s in Little Witchingham (the painting is from the middle of the 14th century).
And somehow it ended up being a churchcrawling afternoon. (It was DH’s suggestion, actually. Though obviously I didn’t protest.) This is a particularly special piece of glass with you from St Peter’s in Ringland: a 14th-century centaur, playing a viol and with a dog running by his feet. Utterly lovely.
The grille behind it is to protect it from vandalism: and the fact that it’s necessary is a very sad reflection on our times. Quite what goes through the head of someone who smashes windows in a church for fun – particularly when early glass is involved – is completely beyond me. Even if you disagree with the religion, why destroy something irreplaceable? (Sorry. Off my soapbox.)Plan for today: I am on a screaming deadline. (Two of them, actually.) So guess what I’m doing today?
Friday, March 20, 2009
Remember the Eighties?
Current work: fic and nonfic
Listening to: Duran Duran
Reading: various research stuff
For various reasons, I’m having a bit of a reminisce. I’ve been talking to friends who are my age and remember going to see Grease at the cinema, and my neighbour opposite who’s about five years younger but remembers Live Aid. Possibly a bit embarrassing, but (mainly because of this musical thing with Madam) I’m having a bit of an Eighties fest at the moment.
So we were talking. Music: at the time, I listened mainly to rock. Radio One, every Friday night at ten sharp, trying to guess the Friday Night Connection on Tommy Vance’s show. I also remember Depeche Mode and OMD on the radio (didn't have any of their records, though), Alison Moyet (I used to look a lot like her on the cover of Alf, in those years) and Howard Jones. (His ‘Hide and Seek’ was my second favourite bit in Live Aid. Brilliant piano. Fave bit of Live Aid? Led Zeppelin, of course. I was desperate to tape it, but we didn’t have a video – DH did, but this was three weeks before he asked me out... and he didn’t record it.) And Wham – we used to do aerobics to ‘Wake me up before you go-go’ in sixth form. Peter Gabriel and Suzanne Vega. Kate Bush.
Some songs in particular: Sunday Bloody Sunday; Don’t You Forget About Me; Vienna; Oliver’s Army (my friend Sarah bought that on my 13th birthday so we could play it at my party); Blue Silver (acoustic version – it was a B side, and the only reason I bought that Duran Duran single. I wasn’t a Duranie... how ironic that I talked my poor best friend into buying me their greatest hits for Christmas, a couple of years back). And does anyone else remember The Headboys with ‘The Shape of Things to Come’? My mate wanted my Motorhead single, so I swapped it for her Headboys single: definitely got the best of the deal.
That got us onto the clothes. Legwarmers. (Shame, shame, shame on me. Mine were purple.) Coloured shoes with tights to match. Flat ankle boots (mine were bright red). Batwing jumpers (oh, dear). Grey Falmers jeans. And the oversized T-shirts ('Choose Life' or Mickey Mouse) – you tied a knot in one corner. And the fingerless lace mittens. (They disappeared after DH and I moved in together. He still claims innocence but I *know* he disposed of them.) Sloane Rangers. (Guilty on that one. I always had long skirts. On the rare occasions when I wear a skirt, even now, it’ll be ankle-length.) Lacoste T-shirts (DH tried to impress me by wearing one on our first date – fell very flat as I didn’t know what the brand was and the logo meant nothing to me). And I had white jacket (but I didn’t push the sleeves up).
Then there were the terrible asymmetric haircuts and big Bonnie Tyler hair. (Guilty of neither.) Poodle perms. (Um. A bit guilty. Mine was softer – more like Alison Moyet’s around the time she released ‘Love Letters’.)
And the make-up. I will confess to electric blue mascara, and electric blue and shocking pink eyeshadow worn together. And the electric blue nail varnish – oh, wait, that wasn’t trendy. That was me being a little eccentric.
And the Athena posters everyone had on their walls: the one with the guy and the baby. Wine glasses with coloured stems (and they looked like martini glasses – black stems were v trendy, but I think that was very late 80s/early 90s). Red coffee mugs. (Hmm. That might be the early 90s, too.)
Aqua Libra, though I preferred Sao Rico. Ranieri ice cream (the Fruits of the Forest one was my favourite, though the Tiramisu one wasn't bad).
DH and I were trying to remember what the car was that everyone wanted. A friend was allowed to drive her parents’ Scirocco and I remember thinking that was the height of cool. I’m pretty sure all the lads had that poster of the Renault Fuego. DH reckons that the Golf was the aspirational car. (He didn’t have one: his was a Cortina. Exactly like Gene Hunt’s in ‘Life on Mars’: same year, same colour, the lot. Though, when I met him, he was the only person I knew who actually had a car. Most of my mates were poor, starving students like me.)
And the films – I remember Another Country and Good Morning Vietnam – oh, and The Killing Fields. I was covering that one for the uni newspaper, and it was the only time I’ve ever been in a cinema which was absolutely full but everyone was utterly silent as the credits rolled. (In my uni years, our local cinema did a cheap night on Mondays, so I went every Monday night with my mates. Never did the discos: I’d always rather do the cinema or the theatre.) Back to the Future. Dirty Dancing. Flashdance. Dead Poets’ Society. (I was always a Robin Williams fan. LOVED Mork and Mindy.) Amadeus (one of my all-time top 5 faves). Indiana Jones. When Harry Met Sally (in my all-time top 2).
TV: I was never really into Dallas or Dynasty. But Moonlighting... Oh, yes. (Had a huge crush on Bruce Willis. Ended up married to his double – well, as he is now. I do have proof – DH holding a magaazine cover with Bruce on it, looking very similar – but I have been warned that posting it here is a divorceable offence, so I will be Very Good Kate and resist temptation.)
Now, I know for a fact that quite a few of the people who lurk on here remember the Eighties. So tell me what you remember most, whether it’s clothes or music or films or food or whatever. (And settle the argument for me: was the Golf the aspirational car, or was it the Audi Quattro – or was it something else?)
Listening to: Duran Duran
Reading: various research stuff
For various reasons, I’m having a bit of a reminisce. I’ve been talking to friends who are my age and remember going to see Grease at the cinema, and my neighbour opposite who’s about five years younger but remembers Live Aid. Possibly a bit embarrassing, but (mainly because of this musical thing with Madam) I’m having a bit of an Eighties fest at the moment.
So we were talking. Music: at the time, I listened mainly to rock. Radio One, every Friday night at ten sharp, trying to guess the Friday Night Connection on Tommy Vance’s show. I also remember Depeche Mode and OMD on the radio (didn't have any of their records, though), Alison Moyet (I used to look a lot like her on the cover of Alf, in those years) and Howard Jones. (His ‘Hide and Seek’ was my second favourite bit in Live Aid. Brilliant piano. Fave bit of Live Aid? Led Zeppelin, of course. I was desperate to tape it, but we didn’t have a video – DH did, but this was three weeks before he asked me out... and he didn’t record it.) And Wham – we used to do aerobics to ‘Wake me up before you go-go’ in sixth form. Peter Gabriel and Suzanne Vega. Kate Bush.
Some songs in particular: Sunday Bloody Sunday; Don’t You Forget About Me; Vienna; Oliver’s Army (my friend Sarah bought that on my 13th birthday so we could play it at my party); Blue Silver (acoustic version – it was a B side, and the only reason I bought that Duran Duran single. I wasn’t a Duranie... how ironic that I talked my poor best friend into buying me their greatest hits for Christmas, a couple of years back). And does anyone else remember The Headboys with ‘The Shape of Things to Come’? My mate wanted my Motorhead single, so I swapped it for her Headboys single: definitely got the best of the deal.
That got us onto the clothes. Legwarmers. (Shame, shame, shame on me. Mine were purple.) Coloured shoes with tights to match. Flat ankle boots (mine were bright red). Batwing jumpers (oh, dear). Grey Falmers jeans. And the oversized T-shirts ('Choose Life' or Mickey Mouse) – you tied a knot in one corner. And the fingerless lace mittens. (They disappeared after DH and I moved in together. He still claims innocence but I *know* he disposed of them.) Sloane Rangers. (Guilty on that one. I always had long skirts. On the rare occasions when I wear a skirt, even now, it’ll be ankle-length.) Lacoste T-shirts (DH tried to impress me by wearing one on our first date – fell very flat as I didn’t know what the brand was and the logo meant nothing to me). And I had white jacket (but I didn’t push the sleeves up).
Then there were the terrible asymmetric haircuts and big Bonnie Tyler hair. (Guilty of neither.) Poodle perms. (Um. A bit guilty. Mine was softer – more like Alison Moyet’s around the time she released ‘Love Letters’.)
And the make-up. I will confess to electric blue mascara, and electric blue and shocking pink eyeshadow worn together. And the electric blue nail varnish – oh, wait, that wasn’t trendy. That was me being a little eccentric.
And the Athena posters everyone had on their walls: the one with the guy and the baby. Wine glasses with coloured stems (and they looked like martini glasses – black stems were v trendy, but I think that was very late 80s/early 90s). Red coffee mugs. (Hmm. That might be the early 90s, too.)
Aqua Libra, though I preferred Sao Rico. Ranieri ice cream (the Fruits of the Forest one was my favourite, though the Tiramisu one wasn't bad).
DH and I were trying to remember what the car was that everyone wanted. A friend was allowed to drive her parents’ Scirocco and I remember thinking that was the height of cool. I’m pretty sure all the lads had that poster of the Renault Fuego. DH reckons that the Golf was the aspirational car. (He didn’t have one: his was a Cortina. Exactly like Gene Hunt’s in ‘Life on Mars’: same year, same colour, the lot. Though, when I met him, he was the only person I knew who actually had a car. Most of my mates were poor, starving students like me.)
And the films – I remember Another Country and Good Morning Vietnam – oh, and The Killing Fields. I was covering that one for the uni newspaper, and it was the only time I’ve ever been in a cinema which was absolutely full but everyone was utterly silent as the credits rolled. (In my uni years, our local cinema did a cheap night on Mondays, so I went every Monday night with my mates. Never did the discos: I’d always rather do the cinema or the theatre.) Back to the Future. Dirty Dancing. Flashdance. Dead Poets’ Society. (I was always a Robin Williams fan. LOVED Mork and Mindy.) Amadeus (one of my all-time top 5 faves). Indiana Jones. When Harry Met Sally (in my all-time top 2).
TV: I was never really into Dallas or Dynasty. But Moonlighting... Oh, yes. (Had a huge crush on Bruce Willis. Ended up married to his double – well, as he is now. I do have proof – DH holding a magaazine cover with Bruce on it, looking very similar – but I have been warned that posting it here is a divorceable offence, so I will be Very Good Kate and resist temptation.)
Now, I know for a fact that quite a few of the people who lurk on here remember the Eighties. So tell me what you remember most, whether it’s clothes or music or films or food or whatever. (And settle the argument for me: was the Golf the aspirational car, or was it the Audi Quattro – or was it something else?)
Thursday, March 19, 2009
A proud Mummy moment
Current work: fic and nonfic
Listening to: John Renbourne
Reading: various research stuff
Last night was the CASMA (Central Area Schools Music Association) spring concert. Daughter has been practising her songs for weeks and weeks and weeks.
And it was fabulous.
The cloisters and undercrofts are usually open (the cafe and antiques fairs), but I haven’t been in the hall itself for ages – last time was probably when I took my last set of professional exams, back in 1992. And the last time I was involved in the kind of thing my daughter was doing would be... ooh, about 1974/5 (recorder group). Scary how quickly time passes.
Anyway, this is inside the hall, with 200-odd kids from seven of the local junior schools in the choir (the blue things are raindrops used during ‘Singing in the Rain’).
They sang a huge range of music, from traditional (such as ‘Land of the Silver Birch’) through to jazz-blues (Blue Brother Jake – fantastic as they did it in four parts), through to musicals (and the lyrics of ‘We Go Together’ from Grease aren’t exactly easy). We were also treated to performances from the county’s Youth Orchestra, and they were fabulous. The double bass trio was particularly interesting, because you don’t often hear the double bass getting a solo. (I also didn’t realise quite how BIG the instruments are.) They played variations on an air (aka ‘Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot’) and it was beautiful. The wind quintet were superb, too. And the brass soloists.
I think the music teachers should be very proud of themselves because their hard work paid off. And the kids, too, should be proud: playing in front of a crowd of around 750 people is pretty scary. Well done to all of them.
This morning, I don’t actually care that I’m behind with work. Because I wouldn’t have missed last night for the world.
Listening to: John Renbourne
Reading: various research stuff
Last night was the CASMA (Central Area Schools Music Association) spring concert. Daughter has been practising her songs for weeks and weeks and weeks.
And it was fabulous.
It was held at St Andrew’s and Blackfriars’ Hall in Norwich:
The cloisters and undercrofts are usually open (the cafe and antiques fairs), but I haven’t been in the hall itself for ages – last time was probably when I took my last set of professional exams, back in 1992. And the last time I was involved in the kind of thing my daughter was doing would be... ooh, about 1974/5 (recorder group). Scary how quickly time passes.
Anyway, this is inside the hall, with 200-odd kids from seven of the local junior schools in the choir (the blue things are raindrops used during ‘Singing in the Rain’).
They sang a huge range of music, from traditional (such as ‘Land of the Silver Birch’) through to jazz-blues (Blue Brother Jake – fantastic as they did it in four parts), through to musicals (and the lyrics of ‘We Go Together’ from Grease aren’t exactly easy). We were also treated to performances from the county’s Youth Orchestra, and they were fabulous. The double bass trio was particularly interesting, because you don’t often hear the double bass getting a solo. (I also didn’t realise quite how BIG the instruments are.) They played variations on an air (aka ‘Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot’) and it was beautiful. The wind quintet were superb, too. And the brass soloists.I think the music teachers should be very proud of themselves because their hard work paid off. And the kids, too, should be proud: playing in front of a crowd of around 750 people is pretty scary. Well done to all of them.
This morning, I don’t actually care that I’m behind with work. Because I wouldn’t have missed last night for the world.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
caption this...
Current work: fic and nonfic
Listening to: Travis, Ode to J Smith
Reading: various research stuff (I have read three novels since Saturday morning, but they weren’t my cup of tea. I know how much work goes into writing a book, however, and I think snarkiness is akin to bullying rather than being clever, so I am not going to write a bad review of any of them. They did give me food for thought, though, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time!)
Am up to eyes at the moment – well behind deadline, and there are things that need to be off my desk pronto. So today, here’s a caption competition. This is what I saw this morning when I made a cup of tea. What’s he saying?
I’ll start: ‘Bloody writers. She’s too busy to blog, too busy keep her website up to date and – more importantly – too busy to feed me. Must have a word with the dog.’
Listening to: Travis, Ode to J Smith
Reading: various research stuff (I have read three novels since Saturday morning, but they weren’t my cup of tea. I know how much work goes into writing a book, however, and I think snarkiness is akin to bullying rather than being clever, so I am not going to write a bad review of any of them. They did give me food for thought, though, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time!)
Am up to eyes at the moment – well behind deadline, and there are things that need to be off my desk pronto. So today, here’s a caption competition. This is what I saw this morning when I made a cup of tea. What’s he saying?
I’ll start: ‘Bloody writers. She’s too busy to blog, too busy keep her website up to date and – more importantly – too busy to feed me. Must have a word with the dog.’
Monday, March 16, 2009
Lovely start to the week...
Current work: fic and nonfic
Listening to: Corelli
Reading: various research stuff
Had a wonderful review from Julie at Cataromance for Surrender to the Playboy Sheikh:
I thoroughly enjoyed reading Kate Hardy’s first Sheikh romance: Surrender to the Playboy Sheikh! A tender, poignant and moving tale that tugs at the heartstrings, Surrender to the Playboy Sheikh is an unmissable story of hope, redemption, second chances and destiny from a wonderful writer who never fails to write stories which keep you turning the pages late into the night!
See the rest of it here.
Thank you, Julie - you've made my week!
DH is back to work today, so I have a quiet house and - oh please, no interruptions - can concentrate on fiction today.
Listening to: Corelli
Reading: various research stuff
Had a wonderful review from Julie at Cataromance for Surrender to the Playboy Sheikh:
I thoroughly enjoyed reading Kate Hardy’s first Sheikh romance: Surrender to the Playboy Sheikh! A tender, poignant and moving tale that tugs at the heartstrings, Surrender to the Playboy Sheikh is an unmissable story of hope, redemption, second chances and destiny from a wonderful writer who never fails to write stories which keep you turning the pages late into the night!
See the rest of it here.
Thank you, Julie - you've made my week!
DH is back to work today, so I have a quiet house and - oh please, no interruptions - can concentrate on fiction today.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Kiss and make up for Comic Relief
If you're in the Warrington area, head for the train station because there's some exciting stuff going on.
Remember when Virgin were, ahem, unwise enough to ban kissing, last month?
Big U-turn. No-kissing sign removed. Hooray for common sense.
And they're even doing an event with my publisher for Comic Relief today: Kiss and Make Up.
There are readings, giveaways, and my mate Annie Burrows (historicals author) is local, so she's going to be there too. Oh, and you can kiss a Brad Pitt lookalike for charity...
And a statistic to amuse you. In the past 50 years, Mills & Boon characters have shared 10,325 weddings, 29,500 kisses and 35,250 embraces. (Hmm. I'm writing Book 39. Wonder how many...? No. Bad Kate. Distraction. Get back to work.)
Remember when Virgin were, ahem, unwise enough to ban kissing, last month?
Big U-turn. No-kissing sign removed. Hooray for common sense.
And they're even doing an event with my publisher for Comic Relief today: Kiss and Make Up.
There are readings, giveaways, and my mate Annie Burrows (historicals author) is local, so she's going to be there too. Oh, and you can kiss a Brad Pitt lookalike for charity...
And a statistic to amuse you. In the past 50 years, Mills & Boon characters have shared 10,325 weddings, 29,500 kisses and 35,250 embraces. (Hmm. I'm writing Book 39. Wonder how many...? No. Bad Kate. Distraction. Get back to work.)
People from Porlock – and a recipe for lemonade
Current work: nonfic (is impossible to write fiction with constant interruptions)
Listening to: Bach French Suites (Joanna MacGregor)
Reading: India Grey, At the Argentinean Billionaire’s Bidding – enjoyed it thoroughly. (Not only is she a great writer, she’s a lovely woman. And stunningly beautiful. She must have a flaw... ah yes, she told me that Krispy Kremes are wonderful and I find them oversweet and sickly. Yes. That is India’s flaw: a dodgy taste in doughnuts.)
Definitely not the best of weeks – and as it’s Friday 13th I think maybe I should go and hide. Apart from the other stuff this week with sick husband, exploding car and dad (uhhh - that's elderly and poorly dad, not exploding), I am suffering with people from Porlock. (What is Kate on about? Coleridge. Trying to be too clever/showing off. Just humour her: she has run out of chocolate and is desperate.)
First up was son and DH, who wanted to access their Xbox live account. Except... a) they forgot the password, and b) son input the wrong email addy during setup - so we can’t reset the password in the usual way, because the new password will go to an invalid email addy (which we can’t access). Guess who they expected to sort this out?
The obvious way round this is for the guys at Xbox to access the account for us and correct the email addy so we can reset the password. Except Microsoft doesn’t do things the simple way – and responsive, these guys ain’t. Took me half an hour on the phone just to get the email support contact address. And then I got a standard response telling me how to reset the password. Sigh. If they had bothered to read the email properly, they would have understood the situation. So I explained. Again. In very simple terms. And am still awaiting a response.
Next person from Porlock was the bank, saying I had a lot of money in my account and could they invest it for me. (What, in a stock-based account in a bear market? Do they think I’m completely bananas?) Every time I pay in an advance cheque, we go through this in the branch; and now they’ve decided to ring me at home as well. So that was another ‘simple’ explanation. People who get paid by an employer get regular payments net of tax. Authors do not. They get royalties from their publisher once or twice a year, advance cheques when they sign a contract, and advance cheques when the publisher accepts the book – ie irregular payments which are gross of tax. And because they’re few and far between rather than a monthly salary, they tend to be bigger chunks of money. (Not THAT big. The average author, according to the Society of Authors, earns less than £5,000 a year. Note that this is skewed by authors who hit the headlines because of their sales, e.g. J. K. Rowling. Note that being an author is NOT a route to getting rich quick. Or even getting rich *g*, for most of us.) Anyway, the point is that a sensible author will wait for said advance/royalty cheque to clear, then move a chunk of it to an account where it will sit untouched, waiting to pay the tax liability in January or July, and the rest will go into account where it will earn interest and act as said author’s salary.
The bank has a better idea. (A bank that has been propped up with taxpayers' money. Righty. And I'm going to trust their judgement?) ‘We could give you more interest if you put all your money together...’ So I asked how they proposed to explain to the tax people that I couldn’t pay the bill because they’d made me put all my money together and I’d forgotten that some of it was my tax liability - and I’d spent it all on Radley handbags, Pandora bracelets and my entire bodyweight in goods from Hotel Chocolat because I have no willpower. To his credit, the guy laughed. And hopefully now there is a note on my file now explaining that if I want to invest money, I will call them – please don’t call me!
The next person from Porlock was a home improvements company. Thank you for the offer to change my windows and door, but a) nothing needs changing; b) there’s a recession, which also means that I don’t want to take out a big loan for said unnecessary improvements in case my husband gets made redundant, and c) when we do get to the point of changing, we’ll go to previous suppliers because we were happy with their work. (And no, they couldn’t just give me a quote anyway, because I don’t want to be bombarded with junk mail and calls etc. Am not being nasty. Am saving them postage and mailshot costs - because I will not be taking up any of their offers, so it would be a waste of money sending me said mailshots.)
Sigh. Author on deadline, anyone?
So I gave in. I had a guitar jam session with my daughter. And then we cooked dinner together while we sang songs from various musicals REALLY LOUDLY. (Son and DH didn’t appreciate it. But we had a *fabulous* time. She's asked me to get some Gene Kelly musicals, next. Yesss. Dat's ma gal.)
Today is Friday 13th – and Red Nose Day – so I guess today’s not going to be a good work day either.
Am clearly stuck with lemons this week, so am going to slice them up, stick them in the fridge with sparkling water and a couple of limes, and pretend to party while I’m secretly working in my head. (Yes, I know 'proper' lemonade involves sugar. This is the low-cal, additive-free version... and thank you to Donna and Jenna for nominating me for the lemonade award thingy. I would pass it on but everyone I can think of has already been nominated. If anyone out there hasn't already been nominated and you put a smile on people's faces and are feeling a bit left out, consider yourself nominated by me...)
Listening to: Bach French Suites (Joanna MacGregor)
Reading: India Grey, At the Argentinean Billionaire’s Bidding – enjoyed it thoroughly. (Not only is she a great writer, she’s a lovely woman. And stunningly beautiful. She must have a flaw... ah yes, she told me that Krispy Kremes are wonderful and I find them oversweet and sickly. Yes. That is India’s flaw: a dodgy taste in doughnuts.)
Definitely not the best of weeks – and as it’s Friday 13th I think maybe I should go and hide. Apart from the other stuff this week with sick husband, exploding car and dad (uhhh - that's elderly and poorly dad, not exploding), I am suffering with people from Porlock. (What is Kate on about? Coleridge. Trying to be too clever/showing off. Just humour her: she has run out of chocolate and is desperate.)
First up was son and DH, who wanted to access their Xbox live account. Except... a) they forgot the password, and b) son input the wrong email addy during setup - so we can’t reset the password in the usual way, because the new password will go to an invalid email addy (which we can’t access). Guess who they expected to sort this out?
The obvious way round this is for the guys at Xbox to access the account for us and correct the email addy so we can reset the password. Except Microsoft doesn’t do things the simple way – and responsive, these guys ain’t. Took me half an hour on the phone just to get the email support contact address. And then I got a standard response telling me how to reset the password. Sigh. If they had bothered to read the email properly, they would have understood the situation. So I explained. Again. In very simple terms. And am still awaiting a response.
Next person from Porlock was the bank, saying I had a lot of money in my account and could they invest it for me. (What, in a stock-based account in a bear market? Do they think I’m completely bananas?) Every time I pay in an advance cheque, we go through this in the branch; and now they’ve decided to ring me at home as well. So that was another ‘simple’ explanation. People who get paid by an employer get regular payments net of tax. Authors do not. They get royalties from their publisher once or twice a year, advance cheques when they sign a contract, and advance cheques when the publisher accepts the book – ie irregular payments which are gross of tax. And because they’re few and far between rather than a monthly salary, they tend to be bigger chunks of money. (Not THAT big. The average author, according to the Society of Authors, earns less than £5,000 a year. Note that this is skewed by authors who hit the headlines because of their sales, e.g. J. K. Rowling. Note that being an author is NOT a route to getting rich quick. Or even getting rich *g*, for most of us.) Anyway, the point is that a sensible author will wait for said advance/royalty cheque to clear, then move a chunk of it to an account where it will sit untouched, waiting to pay the tax liability in January or July, and the rest will go into account where it will earn interest and act as said author’s salary.
The bank has a better idea. (A bank that has been propped up with taxpayers' money. Righty. And I'm going to trust their judgement?) ‘We could give you more interest if you put all your money together...’ So I asked how they proposed to explain to the tax people that I couldn’t pay the bill because they’d made me put all my money together and I’d forgotten that some of it was my tax liability - and I’d spent it all on Radley handbags, Pandora bracelets and my entire bodyweight in goods from Hotel Chocolat because I have no willpower. To his credit, the guy laughed. And hopefully now there is a note on my file now explaining that if I want to invest money, I will call them – please don’t call me!
The next person from Porlock was a home improvements company. Thank you for the offer to change my windows and door, but a) nothing needs changing; b) there’s a recession, which also means that I don’t want to take out a big loan for said unnecessary improvements in case my husband gets made redundant, and c) when we do get to the point of changing, we’ll go to previous suppliers because we were happy with their work. (And no, they couldn’t just give me a quote anyway, because I don’t want to be bombarded with junk mail and calls etc. Am not being nasty. Am saving them postage and mailshot costs - because I will not be taking up any of their offers, so it would be a waste of money sending me said mailshots.)
Sigh. Author on deadline, anyone?
So I gave in. I had a guitar jam session with my daughter. And then we cooked dinner together while we sang songs from various musicals REALLY LOUDLY. (Son and DH didn’t appreciate it. But we had a *fabulous* time. She's asked me to get some Gene Kelly musicals, next. Yesss. Dat's ma gal.)
Today is Friday 13th – and Red Nose Day – so I guess today’s not going to be a good work day either.
Am clearly stuck with lemons this week, so am going to slice them up, stick them in the fridge with sparkling water and a couple of limes, and pretend to party while I’m secretly working in my head. (Yes, I know 'proper' lemonade involves sugar. This is the low-cal, additive-free version... and thank you to Donna and Jenna for nominating me for the lemonade award thingy. I would pass it on but everyone I can think of has already been nominated. If anyone out there hasn't already been nominated and you put a smile on people's faces and are feeling a bit left out, consider yourself nominated by me...)
Thursday, March 12, 2009
deep in the middle...
Current work: nonfic (impossible to write fiction right now)
Listening to: Corelli
Reading: Nina Harrington, Always the Bridesmaid (lovely debut – I loved the busy-busy-busy heroine, and her job, and her warmth, and the hero was pretty gorgeous too)
The car is fixed (thank you, lovely Renault dealer), and even better it was under warranty so I avoided the huge unexpected bill.
Mr Strawberry is still... bright red. And driving me insane. He’s itchy and bored. Hence constant interruptions, or turning up the volume on the stereo so he can hear it outside in the garden... um, could he not just use the stereo in the kitchen, which is nearer to the garden and won’t disturb me? Not to mention the fact that he keeps waking in the night, and that means I get woken, too. I seem to be hissing the words ‘stop scratching’ constantly: all he needs now is to get the spots infected.
Meeting went OK this morning. But I am up to my eyes. Frustrated, wanting to get on with things, and... trying to be nice.
So instead of growling I’ll post a pic. Deep in the middle of Norfolk.
Listening to: Corelli
Reading: Nina Harrington, Always the Bridesmaid (lovely debut – I loved the busy-busy-busy heroine, and her job, and her warmth, and the hero was pretty gorgeous too)
The car is fixed (thank you, lovely Renault dealer), and even better it was under warranty so I avoided the huge unexpected bill.
Mr Strawberry is still... bright red. And driving me insane. He’s itchy and bored. Hence constant interruptions, or turning up the volume on the stereo so he can hear it outside in the garden... um, could he not just use the stereo in the kitchen, which is nearer to the garden and won’t disturb me? Not to mention the fact that he keeps waking in the night, and that means I get woken, too. I seem to be hissing the words ‘stop scratching’ constantly: all he needs now is to get the spots infected.
Meeting went OK this morning. But I am up to my eyes. Frustrated, wanting to get on with things, and... trying to be nice.
So instead of growling I’ll post a pic. Deep in the middle of Norfolk.
This is from the layby almost opposite the church next to Dad’s. I wasn’t joking about single-track road (at this point, you can see mainly layby). Just by the big tree on the right is the only other passing place between the layby and the ‘main’ (B) road; it’s a very, very soft verge, so I always have my fingers crossed as I turn onto the road and hope that there isn't another vehicle coming the other way...
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
in praise of the RAC
Current work: nonfic and medical romance
Listening to: Corelli
Reading: (still no chance to read)
School run was fine today until the journey home, when a warning light on the dashboard began flashing. Car was feeling juddery and the rev counter wasn’t what it normally is. Uh-oh. Ill car. Made it home, and as soon as I opened the car door I could smell burning. Not good. Frantically looked up car manual. Toxic fume filter? Eh, what? ‘If the light flashes, reduce speed until it stops flashing.’ Hmm: I was stationary at traffic lights. How could I reduce speed? Not possible. Am not mechanically minded, so rang Renault dealer and squeaked. They told me to ring assistance company, who may be able to fix it – otherwise, bring car in.
The RAC were brilliant. Very helpful on the phone, told me when they’d be here, arrived dead on time. The RAC man was lovely; he diagnosed the problem (misfiring spark plug) but couldn’t fix it because of the way the engine is put together. So he took out the fuel injection from the problem spark plug and followed me in to the Renault dealer. Should be a warranty job: nothing to worry about.
Small problem: it’s 4 miles to daughter’s school, 4 miles from hers to son’s, and 4 miles home again. (Yes, I know. I am a bad person who should have sent my kids to the local school or moved house. Sorry. Am selfish and exercised parental choice over their education. I also happen to like my house and my neighbours and the view, and don’t want to move.) So either I have to borrow DH’s car (which is huge and I’ve never driven it before - and DH is not well enough to do the school run for me) or hope that Renault can fix my car before 2.30 so I have time to get to school. And it absolutely must be done before Thursday as I have an important meeting (concerning Dad) and there is no public transport.
Hmm. If car is starting to have trouble, maybe I should change it this year before it has to have its first MOT. Ha. Can taunt DH with the prospect of a pink car. (Is my car. I pay for it. If I want pink...) (Yes, I know it will affect the resale value, so I will be sensible. We’ll have the other argument instead: does it have to be a Clio? To which my answer is, any car would have to be exceptional to get me to change from a Clio.)
Listening to: Corelli
Reading: (still no chance to read)
School run was fine today until the journey home, when a warning light on the dashboard began flashing. Car was feeling juddery and the rev counter wasn’t what it normally is. Uh-oh. Ill car. Made it home, and as soon as I opened the car door I could smell burning. Not good. Frantically looked up car manual. Toxic fume filter? Eh, what? ‘If the light flashes, reduce speed until it stops flashing.’ Hmm: I was stationary at traffic lights. How could I reduce speed? Not possible. Am not mechanically minded, so rang Renault dealer and squeaked. They told me to ring assistance company, who may be able to fix it – otherwise, bring car in.
The RAC were brilliant. Very helpful on the phone, told me when they’d be here, arrived dead on time. The RAC man was lovely; he diagnosed the problem (misfiring spark plug) but couldn’t fix it because of the way the engine is put together. So he took out the fuel injection from the problem spark plug and followed me in to the Renault dealer. Should be a warranty job: nothing to worry about.
Small problem: it’s 4 miles to daughter’s school, 4 miles from hers to son’s, and 4 miles home again. (Yes, I know. I am a bad person who should have sent my kids to the local school or moved house. Sorry. Am selfish and exercised parental choice over their education. I also happen to like my house and my neighbours and the view, and don’t want to move.) So either I have to borrow DH’s car (which is huge and I’ve never driven it before - and DH is not well enough to do the school run for me) or hope that Renault can fix my car before 2.30 so I have time to get to school. And it absolutely must be done before Thursday as I have an important meeting (concerning Dad) and there is no public transport.
Hmm. If car is starting to have trouble, maybe I should change it this year before it has to have its first MOT. Ha. Can taunt DH with the prospect of a pink car. (Is my car. I pay for it. If I want pink...) (Yes, I know it will affect the resale value, so I will be sensible. We’ll have the other argument instead: does it have to be a Clio? To which my answer is, any car would have to be exceptional to get me to change from a Clio.)
Monday, March 09, 2009
strawberries
Current work: nonfic and medical romance
Listening to: Travis
Reading: next on TBR pile (I have Nina Harrington's debut and am desperate for a chance to read it!)
Busy weekend: Friday, saw lovely Caroline Anderson for lunch and a chat about books and some plotting ideas and a good laugh. (The scientific experiment on M&S biscuit curls (wafers) was hilarious. Apparently you can get more slurps of coffee through a biscuit curl than you can through a TimTam before it collapses.)
Saturday, went over the border to Suffolk take some of the last pics for the current nonfic. This involved a little bit of churchcrawling, because I was after wallpaintings. Here are two I really liked from Troston: firstly the George and the Dragon (I particularly liked the dragon’s wings and the curly tail)
and secondly the St Christopher. (There is also a fabulous one of St Edmund, which I will use in the book.)
Sunday, Dad and my stepmum came over for the day as it’s her birthday today.
And this morning... that’s where the strawberries come in. Woke up, and DH was bright red – you could see the spots appearing. All over. Turns out it’s an allergic reaction to the antibios, so am back to being ministering angel this week. Will be keeping close eye on son, as he had the same antibios as DH (who hasn’t reacted to them before – but I’m allergic to -cillin antibios, so we’ll see if son also turns bright red). Poor guy: an author on deadline is not ever going to be the best of nurses, because her head will be elsewhere! I'll work mainly on nonfic today as that's easy to break from than fiction.
Listening to: Travis
Reading: next on TBR pile (I have Nina Harrington's debut and am desperate for a chance to read it!)
Busy weekend: Friday, saw lovely Caroline Anderson for lunch and a chat about books and some plotting ideas and a good laugh. (The scientific experiment on M&S biscuit curls (wafers) was hilarious. Apparently you can get more slurps of coffee through a biscuit curl than you can through a TimTam before it collapses.)
Saturday, went over the border to Suffolk take some of the last pics for the current nonfic. This involved a little bit of churchcrawling, because I was after wallpaintings. Here are two I really liked from Troston: firstly the George and the Dragon (I particularly liked the dragon’s wings and the curly tail)
and secondly the St Christopher. (There is also a fabulous one of St Edmund, which I will use in the book.)
Sunday, Dad and my stepmum came over for the day as it’s her birthday today.
And this morning... that’s where the strawberries come in. Woke up, and DH was bright red – you could see the spots appearing. All over. Turns out it’s an allergic reaction to the antibios, so am back to being ministering angel this week. Will be keeping close eye on son, as he had the same antibios as DH (who hasn’t reacted to them before – but I’m allergic to -cillin antibios, so we’ll see if son also turns bright red). Poor guy: an author on deadline is not ever going to be the best of nurses, because her head will be elsewhere! I'll work mainly on nonfic today as that's easy to break from than fiction.
Friday, March 06, 2009
a triple celebration
Current work: nonfic and medical romance
Listening to: Sheryl Crow
Reading: next on TBR pile
Today is officially publication day, so that’s a double celebration. (Though I took these pics on the shelf at WH Smith’s in Norwich yesterday morning.)
First up is The Children’s Doctor’s Special Proposal, which is the second part of my London Victoria duo – for those who read The Greek Doctor’s New Year Baby, this is indeed Katrina’s story. It’s quite close to my heart for two reasons: firstly, I borrowed bits of the wedding from my cousins (who celebrate their first wedding anniversary this month – unsurprisingly, the book is dedicated to them), and secondly Katrina has my own disability. From the reader response I’ve had so far (it was out in the US last month), I’ve done the job right because she comes across as someone who doesn’t let her life be ruled by her disability: she works round it. (Just like I do. And I can guarantee that the deafness bits in it are absolutely genuine.)
Second is Surrender to the Playboy Sheikh, which is the first part of my To Tame a Playboy duo. I’d had a yen to write a sheikh for ages – and I’m thrilled that this is the very first Modern Heat sheikh. I’ve dedicated the book to lovely Liz Fielding, who writes wonderfully inspiring sheikhs (and who lent me a very good book as background – which I must return!! I know where it is on my shelf, though). Of course, being me, he’s not just a sheikh. His original job was really interesting. (Yup. He’s one of my nerdy scientists.) And I think that this cover might just be my favourite of all to date. It’s spot on for a scene in the book (you just have to imagine Vaughan Williams’ ‘Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis’ playing in the background).
And my third reason for celebrating? My ed loved the changes to my Norway book (even though I sneaked four live reindeer in right at the end - baaaad Kate). It’s out in the UK in October 09, and the title is Temporary Boss, Permanent Mistress. It’s part of the ‘Undressed by the Boss’ miniseries. I really enjoy writing office romances. (Though I admit that most of this one takes place outside the office.) This one is also dedicated to a fellow author friend: lovely Nicola Cornick, who let me grill her about her own Arctic adventure.
Plan for today: do some work this morning and tidy the house, as I have a research session with a fellow Medical author today.
Oh, all right. I’m having lunch with my mate Caroline Anderson. And we’ll eat chocolate and talk too much... which is pretty much par for the course where romance authors are concerned. We don’t get out very often. We spend our days chained to a desk, maybe with a canine or feline companion, and rarely talk to others – well, except maybe the characters in our heads.
This is my usual companion, in a bit of a grump (two seconds earlier, he’d been lying on his back, snoring. I tried to get a pic. He was not amused).
He has one shoe in front of him; usually there are more, one from each person in the house. He never chews them: he just likes to have them nearby. Readers of book 2 of the To Tame a Playboy duo (out in May) might spot that Byron is the original of Bramley, aka Imelda. My guitar case is to one side of his bed and my nice comfy reading chair on the other... and messy shelves behind him. However, my hot lunch date from yesterday – en route from his dental appointment – has agreed I can have another bookcase, so I will tidy my shelves when he delivers said bookcase. Oh, hang on, that makes it a quadruple celebration?
Let's make it five. Nell Dixon and Shirley Wells are both celebrating new books with competitions - and you could win books, so go over to their blogs (click on the links).
And as good things come in threes, let's have an additional one. Go over to Diane's blog and wish her happy birthday for this weekend.
So what are you celebrating today?
Thursday, March 05, 2009
minutiae, poems and time machines
Current work: nonfic and medical romance
Listening to: Brad Paisley
Reading: Penguin’s Poems for Life (dipping in and out – this is a wonderful anthology, a lovely indulgent birthday pressie from my best friend)
Most of the time, Sainsbury’s grocery delivery service is brilliant. The staff are lovely, the products are good quality, and I don’t get many substitutions. (And, oh bliss, I don’t have to waste the best part of two hours’ working time/drag grumpy children round the aisles.) But when it goes wrong... I think the number 9 must be quite near the number 1 on the keypad, because the checkout operator’s finger clearly slipped. Last year I was charged for 19 punnets of raspberries, when I had only one. Yesterday, I was charged for 19 bottles of detergent. I didn’t notice until I was unpacking, looked at the bill... and saw that it was about £75 higher than it should have been. Oops. Still, they were lovely and sorted it out as soon as I rang to explain what had happened.
The minutiae of life. This week, I’m clearly measuring my life in Fairy nonbio bottles rather than in coffee spoons.
Hmm. I have an audio CD of T S Eliot reading some of his poems – sadly Prufrock isn’t included, as I bet that would be really illuminating. The first time I heard him reading ‘The Waste Land’, it was as part of a superb exhibition in the British Library (when it was still housed in the British Museum) about quests. Pity it was some years after my A levels, as his rendition of ‘What the thunder said’ made the poem very much clearer for me.
If I had a time machine, I would love to go back and hear John Donne reading some of his poems. Particularly the Nocturnall Upon St Lucie’s Day and (ahem) a certain elegy. (Yeah, yeah. We all know how many times I sneak references to that one into my books.) I’d also like to hear the Wulf and Eadwacer poet (especially as I have a theory that the poet might’ve been female – this is the first English love poem, btw); and James Fenton reading ‘Nothing’ (this is one of my favourite modern poems – I also rate Wendy Cope very highly); and R. S. Thomas reading ‘Here’; and... No, I’ll stop being greedy.
If you could hear a poet reading his/her own works – which poet, and which poem?
Listening to: Brad Paisley
Reading: Penguin’s Poems for Life (dipping in and out – this is a wonderful anthology, a lovely indulgent birthday pressie from my best friend)
Most of the time, Sainsbury’s grocery delivery service is brilliant. The staff are lovely, the products are good quality, and I don’t get many substitutions. (And, oh bliss, I don’t have to waste the best part of two hours’ working time/drag grumpy children round the aisles.) But when it goes wrong... I think the number 9 must be quite near the number 1 on the keypad, because the checkout operator’s finger clearly slipped. Last year I was charged for 19 punnets of raspberries, when I had only one. Yesterday, I was charged for 19 bottles of detergent. I didn’t notice until I was unpacking, looked at the bill... and saw that it was about £75 higher than it should have been. Oops. Still, they were lovely and sorted it out as soon as I rang to explain what had happened.
The minutiae of life. This week, I’m clearly measuring my life in Fairy nonbio bottles rather than in coffee spoons.
Hmm. I have an audio CD of T S Eliot reading some of his poems – sadly Prufrock isn’t included, as I bet that would be really illuminating. The first time I heard him reading ‘The Waste Land’, it was as part of a superb exhibition in the British Library (when it was still housed in the British Museum) about quests. Pity it was some years after my A levels, as his rendition of ‘What the thunder said’ made the poem very much clearer for me.
If I had a time machine, I would love to go back and hear John Donne reading some of his poems. Particularly the Nocturnall Upon St Lucie’s Day and (ahem) a certain elegy. (Yeah, yeah. We all know how many times I sneak references to that one into my books.) I’d also like to hear the Wulf and Eadwacer poet (especially as I have a theory that the poet might’ve been female – this is the first English love poem, btw); and James Fenton reading ‘Nothing’ (this is one of my favourite modern poems – I also rate Wendy Cope very highly); and R. S. Thomas reading ‘Here’; and... No, I’ll stop being greedy.
If you could hear a poet reading his/her own works – which poet, and which poem?
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
nightmares and ghosts
Current work: Proofs of Norfolk Miscellany; nonfic; Medical
Listening to: Brad Paisley, Fifth Gear (again thanks to lovely Biddy for the recommendation)
Reading: various nonfic and church guides (is research)
For some reason, I’m having a week of nightmares. As DH isn’t well, it wouldn’t be fair of me to wake him and whimper and demand a cuddle, so I’ve been going down to my desk and playing Solitaire to calm me back into a state where I can go back to sleep. Sunday night’s was a chiller, but I know where that came from – talking to a fellow Med author about her plans for her next book, except my head warped it into a horror novel. (Ha. Caroline Anderson, that's no chocolate for you on Friday, then.) Monday wasn’t a dream, but a scratchy throat that woke me up because I couldn’t swallow. And last night was a full-on ghost story, complete with cold spots. I was freezing when I woke.
I live in a modern house. We were the first occupants. The land on which it’s built (I’m ashamed to say) was nothing but fields, according to the maps I have of the area from the late eighteenth century and the more up-to-date aerial surveys. So it’s not like the 200-year-old cottage in which I grew up, where there was a ghost story attached to the house and various unexplainable things happened. So there was no reason why I should feel absolutely freezing cold. (Actually, in the dream, the ghosts – two little boys – were scared by the person I was with. And it was our old house – only a room I’d never seen before. It involved carbon monoxide poisoning – now, I do know where that one comes from, as it’s a case in my current medical.)
Eventually I managed to get back to sleep – thankfully, not back to the dream, but it’s stayed with me. At the moment, I’m writing nonfic ghost stories; but if my dreams were based on what I was doing yesterday, I should have dreamed of Black Shuck or the angels in the roof of Blythburgh church rather than the story that spooked me so much.
I used to write fictional ghost stories. Must swank here: one was published by Virago, back in 1991. It was going to be read live on BBC Radio Edinburgh at Halloween, that year, but unfortunately the connection to BBC Norfolk didn’t work – but that in itself gave me an idea for another story... This morning, I was looking up some research material and discovered that the three Virago compilations were reissued in one volume last year. It isn’t clear whether all the stories are included; but if they are, it means mine has shelf-life again and I’ll be very chuffed. (Yeah, yeah. Excuse to buy books. Bad Kate. Take as read that I ordered it this morning...)
Listening to: Brad Paisley, Fifth Gear (again thanks to lovely Biddy for the recommendation)
Reading: various nonfic and church guides (is research)
For some reason, I’m having a week of nightmares. As DH isn’t well, it wouldn’t be fair of me to wake him and whimper and demand a cuddle, so I’ve been going down to my desk and playing Solitaire to calm me back into a state where I can go back to sleep. Sunday night’s was a chiller, but I know where that came from – talking to a fellow Med author about her plans for her next book, except my head warped it into a horror novel. (Ha. Caroline Anderson, that's no chocolate for you on Friday, then.) Monday wasn’t a dream, but a scratchy throat that woke me up because I couldn’t swallow. And last night was a full-on ghost story, complete with cold spots. I was freezing when I woke.
I live in a modern house. We were the first occupants. The land on which it’s built (I’m ashamed to say) was nothing but fields, according to the maps I have of the area from the late eighteenth century and the more up-to-date aerial surveys. So it’s not like the 200-year-old cottage in which I grew up, where there was a ghost story attached to the house and various unexplainable things happened. So there was no reason why I should feel absolutely freezing cold. (Actually, in the dream, the ghosts – two little boys – were scared by the person I was with. And it was our old house – only a room I’d never seen before. It involved carbon monoxide poisoning – now, I do know where that one comes from, as it’s a case in my current medical.)
Eventually I managed to get back to sleep – thankfully, not back to the dream, but it’s stayed with me. At the moment, I’m writing nonfic ghost stories; but if my dreams were based on what I was doing yesterday, I should have dreamed of Black Shuck or the angels in the roof of Blythburgh church rather than the story that spooked me so much.
I used to write fictional ghost stories. Must swank here: one was published by Virago, back in 1991. It was going to be read live on BBC Radio Edinburgh at Halloween, that year, but unfortunately the connection to BBC Norfolk didn’t work – but that in itself gave me an idea for another story... This morning, I was looking up some research material and discovered that the three Virago compilations were reissued in one volume last year. It isn’t clear whether all the stories are included; but if they are, it means mine has shelf-life again and I’ll be very chuffed. (Yeah, yeah. Excuse to buy books. Bad Kate. Take as read that I ordered it this morning...)
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
ah, nuts! (and the craft of revising)
Current work: Proofs of Norfolk Miscellany; nonfic; Medical
Listening to: Gary Allan, best of (like this a lot – thank you, lovely Biddy, for the recommendation)
Reading: next on TBR pile
I ran out of bird-food at the weekend. DH bought some more, but the squirrel doesn’t like it. In fact, the squirrel is immensely fed up because, in order to get to the fat balls (which he does like), he has to balance on the end of the water holder, do a bit of stretching, grab the fat-ball holder, and drag it to his little face.
Like this.
Listening to: Gary Allan, best of (like this a lot – thank you, lovely Biddy, for the recommendation)
Reading: next on TBR pile
I ran out of bird-food at the weekend. DH bought some more, but the squirrel doesn’t like it. In fact, the squirrel is immensely fed up because, in order to get to the fat balls (which he does like), he has to balance on the end of the water holder, do a bit of stretching, grab the fat-ball holder, and drag it to his little face.
Like this.
I called DH and son in to see this and it got a smile. Both are suffering from a lurgy and ear infection, so I am currently ministering with warm drinks, hot water bottles for painful ears, and nagging them to take their antibiotics on time. I had to nag them yesterday to go to the doctor – MEN! Scarily, son has all his father’s mannerisms, so when they were curled up on the sofa together yesterday it was a real mini-me moment.
Also had guitar today, so I’m back on the difficult Bach (and made a reasonable job of the Sor). I have a slightly scratchy throat (which had better NOT presage DH’s and son’s lurgy, because I Do Not Have Time For This), so I may give Dad’s visit a miss tomorrow. It’s completely unfair to visit people who are very vulnerable to infections – i.e. elderly residents of a nursing home – and risk spreading the lurgy. He’ll be disappointed, but am sure he would rather not get a sore throat. And I’m seeing him on Sunday, so hopefully the promise of roast beef and all the trimmings will cheer him up.
Oh, the revisions? Done. At least, this round. Last night, I had an epiphany about the last chapter of the book. It came to 17k of changes, in the end. So moving the bombshell to a later part of the book had rather a large knock-on effect. I think the book’s stronger for it, but I’m dreading second revisions.
Hmm. I suppose I ought to do a ‘craft’ post on revisions.
I hate them, because the crows of doubt go into overdrive.
However. They are necessary because, as an author, you’re often too close to the book to see that you’ve buried the diamonds under a layer of unnecessary grime (i.e. you’ve lost sight of the conflict). And sometimes there are diamonds you haven’t noticed, but your editor does – and points out that actually this would be a better diamond to polish than the one you did polish.
So how do I deal with revisions?
Firstly, I read the revision letter. My ed is very motivational, which helps – she understands that for many authors (especially me), revisions leads to an “I’m crap and I can’t write any more” feeling, so she points out what she really likes about the book in addition to what needs fixing – that helps a lot. She also knows how I work best: that I like to know what the problem is, and be left to fix it myself. (I have had editors in the past who’ve gone into great detail what the characters should do or say: to me, that feels like writing by numbers, and it isn’t my book any more. Not the way to get the best out of me.) Last book, I dropped the bombshell too late. This time, I dropped it too early – and my research showed a bit too much. And I needed more of a build-up to the characters growing and changing. And the ending didn’t feel strong enough: the secondaries took over, and the main characters needed to be more proactive in sorting the resolution.
Yeah, yeah. After writing 37 M&Bs (this was #38 – or my 11th Modern Heat), I should know better. But hey.
Sometimes I agree with what she says; sometimes I disagree and there’s an email ping-pong between me and my editor while we negotiate a compromise that works for both of us. Often I sleep on it and do the ping-pong bit the next day. She might make a suggestion that she knows will make me say no – but will also make me think more and come up with a different solution.
I’m a planner, so I once I know what I’m doing, I sit down and tackle the revisions.
When I write a book, I have lots of separate files. I have a folder for notes and pictures, and a folder for the first draft (because, let’s face it, hardly ANY books go through just one draft). In the ‘first draft’ folder I have:
- the outline (I list the conflict up front and then do a brief paragraph per chapter saying what happens);
- a timeline file (giving very brief details of when the action takes place/what happens in each chapter);
- a characters file (giving brief details of the characters – about three lines each for the hero and heroine, and half a line for everyone else: age, relationship to hero/heroine, and if it’s a Med I’ll also list their ailment)
- a separate file for each chapter
- a file for the whole manuscript (i.e. merged all the chapter files into one when I've finished, and added the front page and a dedication page before emailing it to my ed)
When I’m revising, I copy the ‘merged’ file into the ‘second draft’ folder and work with the whole manuscript rather than split it back into chapters.
I know from my revision letter what I need to fix, so I make notes to myself on the manuscript (e.g. ‘add xxx here’ or ‘rewrite from x’s point of view’).
Then I move anything that needs to be moved; and then I work through the manuscript from start to finish, taking account of my notes. I use the track changes facility on Word, so I can see what I put in and what I take out; and I highlight additions in bright yellow before I accept the changes. Swathes of yellow mean that I can summarise the changes quickly for my ed before taking the highlighter off and sending it to her.
And then it's a final readthrough to check for continuity - that the changes all match up.
Easy.
Oh, all right. Perhaps I should mention the blood, sweat and tears that go with this process. Talking out loud to myself or my characters. And time spent playing Scrabble Blast online while I’m mulling over how to fix something – halfway through a game you’ll hear me say, ‘Oh, duh, that’s OBVIOUS’ and I’ll flick back into Word and sort out the bit that had been giving me problems.
So. Revisions. Over for a little while.
On the meantime I have a piece to do for Writing Magazine (waves to lovely Rachel); the proofs of Norfolk Miscellany (which look good, and I am so pleased with the pics); writing the other nonfic that’s due at the end of this month; and writing the new Medical (due in a fortnight, but methinks that means the end of the month because we have to be reasonable about it).
As my squirrel would say – ah, nuts. This is hard work and a bit of a balancing act!
Monday, March 02, 2009
Happy March
Current work: Revisions (sigh – still!)
Listening to: Genesis, And Then There Were Three
Reading: next on TBR pile
Happy March! Here’s this month’s calendar picture.
Listening to: Genesis, And Then There Were Three
Reading: next on TBR pile
Happy March! Here’s this month’s calendar picture.
Been a busy weekend. Dad really wasn’t well on Friday (and I have to remind myself that he might see a day a week of my time as ‘not much’, but it’s quite a big chunk of my working week – are women just programmed to feel guilt?).
Nipped into town briefly on Saturday to sort my errands (and, despite seeing the Radley bag in the flesh, I was good). Big thumbs down to Clinton. If they can do a ‘happy mother’s day dear sister/auntie/from the dog’ card, why can they not do a ‘stepmum’ card? Especially given that so many families have stepfamilies, nowadays. And I was quite upset that the salesgirl (a) couldn’t care less (“We put out what we’re told to put out”) and (b) tried to fob me off with a ‘happy birthday to someone who’s like a mum to me’ card, which I could send to practically anyone. I did ask questions at the sales desk (NB I didn’t shout and I wasn’t rude. I made my point quietly), and I’m feeling bolshy enough to write to their head office to tell them how disappointed I am. In future I’ll be buying my cards from a retailer who shows a little more customer care.
And the men in my house are ill with a sore throat, headache, earache and a rattly cough. DH is being particularly stubborn, and I’ve informed him today that he is NOT going to work when he’s been up all night with earache and headache, and coughing up green stuff means it’s bacterial rather than viral and he needs to see the doctor.
I’ve been breaking from my revisions every half an hour to do the ministering angel bit with cold drinks, hot blackcurrant, hot water bottles and paracetamol. Just as well I’m good at multi-tasking. This morning, I will have a late school run (i.e. just Madam’s) and then will be back to being angelic. Despite the fact that I didn’t get the space I needed to finish my book (and I have a bit of a scratchy throat this morning – so fingers crossed I don’t end up with a cotton-wool-filled head to go with it).
Hmm. Is it possible to be angelic and exceedingly grumpy at the same time? (Perhaps I have PMT and need chocolate...)
Note to self: the sun is shining, the kitchen windowsill is filled with hyacinths and daffoils, and today IS going to be a good day.
Plan for today: finish revisions, write article I promised, and start on proofs of Norfolk Miscellany (fingers crossed that it’s an easy set – different editor, but as she has made several very sensible author questions, I’m hopeful that she’s as good as lovely Michelle Harrison). Oh, and I need to do a post office run at some point. Some sleep might be nice...
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