- and then three come along at once. Well, more than three, actually. One of the things they don't tell you about the author's life (as opposed to the writing life) is that it's ninety-nine percent boredom and only one percent... anything at all. Sometimes when people ask me to talk to their reading group, or whatever, they say 'I know how busy you must be', and I suspect they have a vision of me in one long merry-go-round of readings and signings and festivals and power-lunches and so on. Well, maybe five books down the line I shall be, and maybe the writers who turn out a book a year are, but meanwhile there are huge stretches when absolutely nothing happens in my professional book-trade life, however much is going on in my head. True, on my way to France I found a wodge of The Mathematics of Love face out in Foyles at St Pancras, and my US editor told me that she thought I'd done 'a marvellous job' on the revisions for that edition of A Secret Alchemy, but you can't feed on those forever.

So it was rather amazing that the following things all happened yesterday:

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Any discussion about the rules of writing can be cleared up by the catch-all solution: You can get away with anything, as long as you do it well. The use of the present tense is the perfect example.

In spite of all the reasons why present tense makes me wary, it is, after all, a natural way of telling stories. To take my favourite piece of overheard dialogue, which I remember from several years ago in a Chinese restaurant:

“The bloke who does my tattoos, right? He actually breeds scorpions, yeah? So anyway he gets this scorpion – it’s like the size of a baby rabbit – and says he’ll give the kid a tenner if he picks it up by the tail…”



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As well you know, I don't write book reviews. What I do do though, is mention ones I think are good. And that's exactly what I'm going to do now.


I read Out Of A Clear Sky, by Sally Hinchcliffe over the weekend. It is a remarkably good book, one I thoroughly enjoyed and wouldn't hesitate to recommend. It's a thriller, but in no way over the top. It's believable and it's creepy; it's scary and tender and delightfully written.

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One concern about a sports-themed novel that does give me sleepness nights is the stat that shows that a majority of novels are bought by women, while men watch a lot more sport than women. Now if you judge a book by its cover and 'Cheetah' shrieks sport, it may be a hard sell. It's going to be a tricky one to get right.
But I'm obviously hoping women won't be put off. The story is a human drama about stolen love, among other things.

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- or so I thought, since I've been in France, researching the nameless new novel. But on the same day I read this, in John Gardner's The Art of Fiction -

"All three kinds of writing, it should be obvious at a glance, depend heavily on precision of detail... such detail ... that we cannot help believing that the story he tells us must be true."

- I took these:

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Natasha Cooper, for me, ranks as one of the most important commentators on the current state of crime writing. She wrote a feature recently in The Times about why it's harder for a woman to hack it as a crime writer than it is for a man.

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Hours after exercising for the first time in awhile, before the damage is felt and you spend the next few days unable even to scratch your nose without wincing, you feel just great. You bounce down the high street lighter than air, strutting confidently through the crowds with saucy smiles at the pretty ladies, feeling fit and healthy and attractive. Then you catch sight of yourself in a shop window and you stop and stare in shock, oblivious to the businessman who clatters into you from behind with a loud tut. You have not, as you assumed, instantly transformed into a svelte buff Adonis with a flat stomach and chiselled jaw line. You look, in fact, much as you did that morning. Overweight, pudgy, blobby. Not obese, not by a long shot. But the bulges are there, the ones that never existed when you were twenty-four and drinking beer rather than whiskey every night, for Christ’s sake. How can this be? You’ve just been through Hell.

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Nicotine cat and the collar
Well have not blogged since joining as I have kidnapped by my kids. We are doing the summer holidays at home this year which has been a pleasant change. The great thing about motherhood is there is never a dull moment. Or is it just my household – I did say crazy and deranged. As usual the day off is usually the earliest day you wake up. We were on the move. Tutor, collecting friends – it never ends. When the day finally calmed down at about 2pm and I found myself just about to drift on the sofa. Nicotine cat – well we call her that as she always sits on my lap when I smoke (outside of course). Oh that is really bad – my cat is a drug addict and I am the pusher. Anyway – I heard my son scream MUM. I could not even understand what he was saying, but it was one of those run and come now screams. You need to see this. I could not believe it, Nicotine cat had managed to trap her poor mouth in her collar. Maybe she had withdrawals from the Nicotine and having a fit. No seriously her mouth was prized open, jammed in her collar and our poor darling was suffocating. That was it my cape came out, super vet-mum to the rescue. Quick Josh scissors, knife – I was talking to myself really as the poor boy was in shock. He could not move. I jumped into the kitchen, had a flash back of where I last saw the scissors. Nicotine cat was heaving and trying to run –where you going man – I am trying to save your life. Anyway scissors snip and one cat saved. Little madam just ran off, not even a purr to say thanks or a lick. Maybe she would have appreciated a fag much more.
Well our cat is fine and we felt like heroes – we have banned collars for our two babies.

Last day before our holiday today, hurrah! So I'd really better go and pack soon. For those of you keen on Norfolk, we'll be staying here (see full post for links) for a few days. Shame it won't be that sunny though - indeed I'm packing for torrential rain. I fear lots of wet birdwatching days ahead - but what the hell, eh, it's a holiday and ye gods but I need the break. If only I can have five minutes of time and sunshine to sit in that glorious looking courtyard, then I will feel fulfilled.

Have had a good morning's golf today - my putting was shit-hot and I was getting the balls in when really I shouldn't have been. As it were. I was particularly proud of my long putt on the ninth which rattled in as if it was always meant to be and gave me a par. Ha! It makes it all worthwhile, you know ..


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I'm in a bit of a rush (I have writing and editing things to do and Good Boyfriend Duties to perform) but I absolutely had to post about this incredible film. Wall-E is excellent. It is a masterpiece. None of the trailers, in my opinion, come close to doing it justice. It's epic and tender and funny and exciting, and that's forgetting the wonderful animation, which is probably the best I've seen. A truly wonderful story, wonderfully told. And I think that it's a film which adults can enjoy without making concessions for it being a Disney kids' film.

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