Sigh. Deep deep sigh. I know I'm probably going to get throttled (virtually only, I hope) for this, but I've just finished Alaa Al Aswany's The Yacoubian Building, and I'm still attempting to raise myself from the slough of utter boredom it cast me into. (Pause to make a mental note never ever to be seduced by the phrase, "International Bestseller", again, and never at any cost to believe anyone who tells me they know I'd love it. No matter how close the person doing the telling ...). In the words of the great Catherine Tate: what a load of s**t!!! Mind you, it did have a good first two pages. No, a grand and classy first two pages. But really and truly I should have stopped there. By the time I was on page 22, I knew it was a no-hoper and I just didn't care enough about anyone. Way way too much telling and info dumping, and not enough showing. Or maybe that's just the Egyptian way of writing? I don't know and, frankly, I can't be arsed to find out either. I skimmed lightly through the rest of it, knowing that noble Lord H had bought it for me as I'd asked him to - and the relief when I came to the words, "The End", was indescribable.

I then turned to the front and my eye was caught by a puff (writerly word for a nice quote given by another writer) from Patrick Gale (hmm, can I even put those words in that sentence without being sued??), which said: "An Egyptian Tales of the City ... I was furious when it ended. Sequels, please!" Oh Lord, no. I should have known ...

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Tis true, and was proved last night. I'd been invited to attend a 'special evening viewing' of an exhibition on Cheshire's literary heritage held at the Salt Museum in Northwich. I went last night, not really knowing what to expect (well, you wouldn't really, would you?). After a brief and friendly chat with a couple of staff members I was ushered into the room where all the guests were being held. I accepted a glass of water and waited for things to commence.



I must have stood there for about five minutes before I realised that I was going to struggle to engage anyone in conversation. Some clearly weren't all that keen on even returning smiles. But they don't know me and I don't know them and I suppose they might not have been there to talk to people - and in my motorcycle jacket I could have been anyone/trouble/lost.



And then a lady and her husband walked in and ended up heading my way. They nodded and smiled, as did I, and pretty soon we were having a great old chat. It turned out that, not only was the lady, Gee Williams, a fellow author (you can order her book, Salvage, - which sounds marvellous - here) but we also share a writer friend.



From then on the evening was great. The exhibition was fab. They had original typescripts of Robert Westall's, The Machine Gunners, his typewriter, medieval writing implements (not his), stuff on Alan Garner, Lewis Carroll, Elizabeth Gaskell... all sorts. Well worth a look if you're in the area.



And at some point, people started to smile at each other.



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Unrequited is now available for direct order from the printer. Hopefully, it will appear on Amazon by the end of next week, if not sooner, so finally, I have a novel out there in the big wide world!!!

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I’m singing Abba’s I do I do I do as I write this. One of the guys from my writing group got married on Tuesday so he brought in a box of favours today, with cake and everything. I chose a CD of the music they had at the ceremony and party; it’s classic cheese, including YMCA, Shania Twain and Amarillo – of course it was a civil partnership. So, a great start to the day; cake and favours of chocolate pretending to be sugared almonds, and now relaxing on my bed with the lovely Shania wailing (with me) ‘From This Moment On’, and twiddling with sunset photos I took from my window the other night…ooooh, and just as I speak there’s another one just beginning. Life is nice tonight.

Oh, and i think I've managed to change the settings of comments so anyone can leave one without all that hassle.


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Many happy returns on your 60th birthday!

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A bit of a non-day really. Is it just me who gets these sometimes?? Nothing much of any great excitement has happened, and I haven't had any great moments of inspiration. Neither is there any chocolate in the house to console myself with, dammit. Well, not that I can actually eat it anyway - we're saving the last of the anniversary Thornton's chocolate champers bottle till tonight. Well, it's Friday, innit?

However, the good news is that I do feel slightly better. Well enough anyway to go shopping in Godalming this morning and find out that they seem to have discontinued not one but two shampoos I regularly use. Two! I ask you! Deep, deep sigh ... I begin to suspect that it's a government plot to slowly take away every product I have ever found that I actually like so that eventually I won't exist at all as there'll be nothing for me to buy. (Cue: I'm not paranoid; it's just that everyone's against me ...). Anyway, I didn't have the psychic energy to make a fuss or chain myself to the shampoo factory railings, so I just bought another version and will hope for the best ...

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Creative freelancing - singing, writing, photographing - is a jigsaw of both time and energy. I remember a mezzo-soprano friend saying that she had seven jobs, and that was only the regular ones. Unlike her, most of my jobs happen at home. But still, there's the teaching, the editorial reporting, the blogging, the tax return, the friendly conversations with aspiring writers, the occasional treat like next week in Madrid, the accounts, the library-runs... At least I'm between novels in the promotional sense, so there's not much to do on that front.

But those are the dishwashing and bed-making of the writing life. Novels as children is such a cliché, but just at the moment, struggling to do the right thing - the best - for what's closest to my heart, it's hard not to see it like that.

The current novel - still nameless - is in its final stages before I wave it off to university with my editor. Every now and then it still needs real, off-the-wall creative thought - that title, for instance - but for the most part I'm doing last-minute packing and admin. My editor's been helping with tutoring and admissions, but...


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Being a bit of a Russo-phile, I was very interested to discover that the Curzon chain of cinemas are screening a festival of Russian films. It so happens that my friend Ed Hughes has composed, and recorded, full scores for two of the films in the season - Strike and Battleship Potemkin both by Eisenstein.

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Amazon was over here today, checking out my little space in the minefield that is Musician’s flat. She was impressed enough to suggest more visits; the space Musician inhabits, ie, living-room, is a maze of wires – a bit like a spider’s web, where he sits in the middle and spins his music, moving bits of something here, there and everywhere. She never comes here – and that hurts his feelings; he’s the sensitive middle child, and gets upset when she tells him his place is bogging. So now she knows that some kind of clean has entered the building she’ll pop over now and again. I usually have to walk the several streets it is to her flat, so I’m happy; now I can continue my layabout life and if she needs me she can come here.


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Woke up to a rather annoying cold this morning - bummer, eh - so am dowsing myself with Lemsip and Nurofen Plus. The perfect combination. Consequently, I have been drooping round the flat this morning and doing writing work in my dressing gown. Something I normally never like doing. Still seem to have got the stuff done I was planning to though, which is at least cheering me up after this week's various disasters. Such stuff included preparing for next week's University Writers' Group meeting and the Goldenford meeting, both being on Tuesday. The launch of Irene Black's eBay book, Sold to the Lady with the Lime-Green Laptop is fast approaching, so there's loads to do. And it's well worth buying - it's a fun read with lots of wild pictures - so get your orders in now!

Not only that but I've submitted some poems to various competitions - and yes I knew I was going to ease down on this activity due to general cynicism about the whole literary world thang, but I felt strong enough to face it today so have taken the iron by the horns and heated it. Or some such twaddle. And at least it makes my spreadsheets look slightly more used. Hurrah ...

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