Managed to get my emails fairly well sorted this morning, and am fiddling around with marketing bits and pieces. And we’ve been busy moving printers around to try to accommodate the new person we’re getting in the office at some stage. Goodness knows where we’re going to put them though – we’re pretty packed as it is. And new people – gosh, scary …

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I'm six chapters off the end of the WiP and I can hardly believe it! Ok, so these chapters are honestly pretty intense (it's a complex plot) and I'm writing almost at a snail's pace to get them just so, but all the same, it feels like I've been on a rather long journey. A highly enjoyable journey at that.

In the real world, I'm gearing up for a job interview tomorrow. It's a 3rd stage one too, so it's the biggie. Feels like time to at least start thinking about rejoining the rat race. My jeans are falling apart!


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Yesterday was spent doing this:

Yes, we made sushi. It is not as easy as one might imagine.

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I'm still reeling from the excitements of the weekend, by which I do not mean the agent contact but the epiphany which was my seven year old tomboy Discovering Dresses.


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Tagged by Poppy, so this is a chance to do the 6 random facts over again; the last ones were a cop-out.

1.
I have the most ridiculous things for breakfast; tradition has never made an impact on my life, except where porridge is concerned – salt not sugar. After the first (now, only) coffee I start to think about what to eat, and there are no limits; when I was a lush/drunk, in my thirties, it was often cold curry from the night before (lots of coffee) and craving for cold samosas would drive me around the west end of Newcastle searching little corner shops. I always have or try to do what I want, in the moment. I’m sitting here eyeing up the choice of:

White chocolate; orange Areo; toast; cream crackers and cheese; toast with sliced chicken; or marshmallows

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Pauline and Mavis, the Harper Collins PR girls assigned to my book, have chosen a party at Home House to introduce me to the publishing world. Their assistant, Lindsey, has been on the phone to me every day, and her excitement, unexpectedly, has rubbed off on me.

When I arrive at Portman Square, the black cabs and private cars are queuing to stop outside the velvet ropes. The passengers will only get out when their car is directly in front of the club steps and they will wait minutes to avoid walking twenty yards from further down the road. Suddenly I feel even more self-conscious than I was on the tube, sitting amongst the Saturday night indie kids and Goths in my wedding suit, complete with silver tie. I didn’t want to hire a tux.

The doorman looks at my ticket, then at me with a look that suggests we both know I’m a chancer. He gives the ticket back to me and steps aside with a wry smile. I thank him with indecent sincerity and finger the knot of my tie as I climb the steps where another bouncer opens a door for me. In my confusion, I pull my wallet out to tip him, then I pretend to put something in it and put it back in my pocket.

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So that's it, almost certainly: I've crawled through the proofs of A Secret Alchemy, finding every last misplaced comma, although it's also gone to a professional proofreader; I've picked up a couple of little anomalies that somehow between us we've all managed to miss; I've seen for the first time how the changes I made at the copy-editing stage integrate when I read it straight through; I've to-ed and fro-ed quadruple-checking the days of the week for one strand, and in another I've realised I've married the Duke of Buckingham to the wrong Woodville sister. The last real job is done, and the beast is face-down on my desk, waiting to go back to Headline, special delivery.

All being well, that's the end of my dealings with the actual words of A Secret Alchemy.

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Lord H and I have spent most of the day at Farlington Marshes, enjoying the glorious weather and admiring the birds. Bliss. New bird spotted today - linnets, hurrah! And what lovely birds they are - pink and grey and surprisingly bright. Rather like a long-tailed tit, but bigger. And without the long tail. We also came across black-tailed godwits, avocets, oystercatchers, skylarks and meadow pipits. So, all in all, a damn good day ...

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Forgot to say - yesterday I let in a car from a sidestreet into the queue to get into Guildford and was much cheered by the enthusiastic waving of the young, blonde driver. She - Gawd bless 'er - was driving a white mini, complete with two pink stripes across the roof and bodywork and a fluffy, nodding pink sheep in the rear window. Fabulous. Now there's someone who knows who she is and is proud of it. I'm quite tempted by the concept of a nodding sheep myself - maybe I'll get one in ginger ...

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Just had a phone call from the new editor at a literary agency I was in touch with last year. BIG crime agent. She's new in the job and working her way through correspondence she's inherited and wanted to know where I was up to with rewrites and what not. From what I could gather, she'd got me flagged as potential talent, which is rather lovely (as is she).

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