I'm sat watching my practical half making a garage for our son. He'll be 3 on Saturday..bless him..we're lucky we still have him..
From his first appearance, he's had to face various challenges..not like some, I admit, but scary nonetheless..


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I'm a new guy, an American (an accident of birth), who has lived in France for 15 years. I have an undistinguished self-publish on Amazon, a ponderous piece of historical fiction called Thibault & Malcolm / A Feast for Galileo. It has been re-worked and re-written and is ready for something bigger than just my own personal vanity. I'm looking for friends and all the help I can get. This is the first site that has caught my eye, but, as you already know, Americans are getting poorer by the minute (most of us that is), so as soon as I can scrape $50 together I'm going to make sure I become a full member.

My goodness, but by the time I'd got to the end of yesterday I felt like a whipped dog. (So I had one delivered, boom boom - sorry, couldn't resist it ...) It was a real struggle just to summon up the will to get to bed and, at the same time, I was so wired I would probably have shot off into the great beyond if the ceiling hadn't got in the way. A tricksy little combination, all in all.

Still, today things have improved a little - mostly thanks to Jackie who posted a review of Thorn in the Flesh on Amazon UK, and which I reproduce below:

"In Thorn in the Flesh, Anne Brooke has written a book that is full of passion and tension. The heroine, Kate Harris, is a strong, resilient woman but, after a violent attack and stalked by the unknown aggressor, she cannot help but attract our sympathy. And so we follow her throughout the book, observing her tender relationships with the people she loves. We also accompany her on her journey into the past to places we would rather not go – to the darkest of places in the present. Anne Brooke gives an authentic feel to the seamy underbelly of London, where down-and-outs live in their own sub-culture and where Kate Harris is forced to go in her quest for the truth. In contrast, Brooke also describes the cosy environment of Godalming, where Kate lives and where much of the action takes place. Throughout the journey, readers will be on the edge of their seat and will remain there until the climax of the story, at the very end. A book that should not be missed. Anne Brooke's best, so far ..."

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Why won’t it stop ticking
That old heart of yours?
Mine swells with love
As I long to press pause..

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Photos of trip coming soon... but in the meantime, some nice news. I have just had three flash stories accepted by the wild and wacky Mad Hatter's Review. And they also want me to record audio versions, which I am thrilled about. I'll have to dust off my acting skills. So, in the next few months, three flashes in Mad Hatter's, two in SouthWord, three in the Ranfurly Review and one in Greatest Uncommon Denominator (which actually pays). Not bad, and great for the flash collection I am assembling.

Another positive aspect is that all of these flash stories ( all under 750 words in length, some much shorter) are very weird indeed,...

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Drifted round Sainsbury's this morning (not my usual shop, you know - I'm a Tesco Girl myself) getting the weekly shop and surprised myself by actually finding everything I wanted. Ye gods. Even the birdseed I'm getting for Gladys as her nursing home room has a bird-table in front of it and she was complaining about the lack of birds. I found it amongst the cat food - which has some kind of food-chain sense, I suppose.

This morning's surprise rejection was from a small publisher for The Gifting - not much of a surprise in itself as Rejection is my middle name. But they had already rejected it last month and, in addition, they addressed the email to Lord H. Is something going on I don't know about? Ah, many many things, I fear. I also fear that (a) I am losing any sense of identity I ever had, and (b) they will reject me again next month and this time will address the email to my mother. Deep sigh. I must be caught in a temporal loop somewhere. Again ...

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I'm trying to write one of two scenes, both very intense, very visceral; totally different. One involves a sunlit room, the other a dead hand. Sadly, the men tearing up the tarmac outside my window aren't helping. My thoughts are neither sunny nor handy. I feel under seige. Anyone with any suggestions that might help (apart from moving house temporarily, which is sadly not an option)?


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There's a title to conjure with indeed. And so very un-Easterlike too. Lord H & I had quite a jolly day yesterday - the Easter service at St Mary's was fine, and I fell in love with the perfume of the woman behind me and quizzed her about it during the Peace. As you do. Apparently it's called "Angel", appropriately enough. Church - such a useful place to stare at (and sniff at) other women and see if they have anything that might suit you. I was also rather taken with the mauve jumper of one of the women taking communion, but appreciated that leaping up and yelling excuse me, where did you get that? whilst she was communing with the Lord probably wasn't the best etiquette. Shame I missed her afterwards though ...

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Was greatly pleased today when Lord H came back from the shops with the Surrey Advertiser (Godalming edition) to find that I and Thorn in the Flesh were in it. Hurrah! Naturally the sudden rush of local fame and fortune appeals to my essentially shallow and worthless nature ... Actually, it's a very good article by Luke Jacobs (thank you, Luke!) - who somehow made sense of my crazed meanderings - and a photo which even makes me look human. I was also amused by the article headline, which appeared just under my photo - "Home Horror Brought to Book" - which makes me sound wonderfully like an evil arch-criminal who has just been arrested by the police. Which I suppose isn't too far from the truth. From now on, I shall always sign myself as the Home Horror. You know it makes sense ...

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