I had an interesting experience this week. I was Googling myself, as you do (you do, don't you?) and I discovered a web page called Representations of Antarctica: Short Stories. And there, lo and behold, was this:

Hershman, Tania. "The White Road." Wonderwall. Route 16. Ed. Anthony Cropper and Ian Daley. Pontefract, West Yorkshire: Route, 2005. 29-37.

This is a story I wrote a few years ago, the first story I had broadcast on BBC Radio 4, and then published in Route's Wonderwall anthology. It is set in Antarctica, a place I have never been, nor did I do any research about it before I wrote the story (I don't believe in research for my fiction, it reminds me too much of journalism).

I was extremely delighted to appear on this website, and I wrote to them to find out how they'd found me....

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Happy anniversary to us! Lord H and I have today been married for 14 years and he hasn’t sent me back to the Wife Shop yet – hurrah! So it was Lindor chocolates for breakfast (though I did have cereals too, so the Government can’t complain …) and it’s champagne tonight. And lasagne and icecream. Hmm, maybe the Government will complain after all – I’ll add salad, honest! I don’t want the Food Police round again.

Presents were nice too (yes, sadly, we do still do presents) – I bought him a CD of “I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue” which he’d asked for, plus a book and chocolates etc. And in return, I unwrapped a couple of books I’d wanted, plus the DVD of “Becoming Jane” and Germaine Greer’s Shakespeare’s Wife. Yes, I know that’s a book too, but I thought I’d give it a special mention – I’ve been longing to read it as soon as I saw it was out. Greer and Mrs Shakespeare – you can’t really go wrong ...

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My local writing group organised a day of workshops last Saturday. I had the greatest day; just being in a workshop, talking and writing is better than the best carrot cake you can imagine; better than whole bottles of Tia Maria, Drambui or 12yr old whisky! And a free lunch to boot. I felt sorry for some of the group who had to look after tables of books, hand-crafted cards and the tombola; some of them were bored out of their pencil cases. I was in my element; the tutor on my workshop was an American poet called Gerry Stewart…and she got a lot of work out of me. I left the table with a whole poem and the makings of another two on the same theme; which was living with my son, right now, this minute. This is the rough poem:

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Overall this was an enjoyable day with good opportunities to talk to the authors. My early thoughts were that the whole day would be nothing more than a marketing event for Faber and Faber, thankfully this was not the case. The workshop with Mick Jackson was educational in discovering how important it is to be able to switch from porject to project. Mick was a very approachable fellow and an author I will take more interest in from now on.

Sarah Hall's workshop got sidetracked from being a discussion on the influence and creation of her latest novel, "The Carhulan Army", to becoming more like the "Good Life" and grow your own vegetables. I would have liked for Sarah to discuss the process of her novel and why she prefers to use the voice of the character more than dialogue to drive the story.

Also whoever the chap was that picked up and thumbed through her book before the workshop while she was out of the room, well don't be so f***ing rude next time. You had no right to do that.

It is a pity that I had to forego Andrew Martin's workshop, as that I am sure would have been fascinating on how to research a period novel.

David

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Emma and Rob at Snowbooks blog at www.snowbooks.com/weblog.

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My excuse for not writing in here last week is….my nails were too long. I can’t bear the feel and sound of fingernails clicking on the keys, sometimes slipping from one to another and just generally making a mess of everything. So, I soaked some washing in the bath, squeezed and swirled till the said nails were pliable then I cut them all off. Now I’m whizzing around the keyboard like a wild thing, loose and fancy free…and unemployed. I’ve now got five application forms to fill out; will force myself into it tonight, when my bum is numb from sitting here surfing.

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I've been rewriting. Or, closer to the truth, slashing. I've had some success in the past few months in taking a short story a few thousand words long that I like but that isn't quite working - and rewriting it as a flash, under 500 words. What happened in the case of one story is that it began with the same opening scene but then went in a completely different direction. That flash then won 2nd prize in a competition. I thought, Aha, I'm onto something!

I decided to try this with all of my "problematic" stories, of which there were four main ones. ....

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Felt surprisingly calm today – unusual for a Monday and in the run-up to Freshers’ Week too. Which is next week – yikes! We had the first of our Student Care presentations today, and no-one rioted, so that bodes well for the next 25 or so talks. One hopes … Not that I actually give any talks of course – that would be too terrifying for words, but I’m in charge of the admin, the room, the speakers and making sure the DVD works. It did, by the way. We even had it delivered on time. This morning … hell but we like to cut it fine here at the coal-face.

However, the usual quiet office environment (quiet = contained panic of course) has been shattered with the decision of the builders to start drilling into the concrete just outside the window. I think they’re building a tunnel. Not that I can blame them ...

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Had a really lovely time at Liz's Last Night of the Proms' party last night - it was great. And memorably lovely too as I happened to mention that I now have all my old record collection (as rediscovered in a cupboard by Mother), but no record player to play them on - and Liz then said that she had two and was planning to get rid of one of them, so I might as well have it. Goodness me, but people can be soooo nice sometimes!! Thanks, Liz - I really appreciate it - and it works too, as we tried it out as soon as we got home. Hurrah! The only problem is that I'm not sure Lord H is all that keen on The Tom Robinson Band, Abba, Fleetwood Mac or Steve Forbert. Bloody hell but that dates me!...

Today, we have spent the day at Titchfield Nature Reserve in Hampshire - and managed to see a green sandpiper, two wheatears, a kestrel, a jay, a shoveler (wonderful beaks!) and a million and one geese, coots, ducks, moorhens etc etc. It was all jolly nice - except that it did take the cafe 40 minutes (40!!! What were they doing? Growing the ruddy vegetables??) to serve us cauliflower cheese & leeks. Sigh ...

Getting home, I discover that I've won third prize ...

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Lord H and I did a slow dash round Waitrose today to get supplies in for tonight's Last Night of the Proms' party at Liz's. There was a queue getting into the carpark as we all waited to get our parking tickets, which we duly had signed off by the check-out girl. Only to discover that someone had nicked the barrier on the way out, so everyone was just driving straight through. There being no staffed barrier on a weekend of course. Goodness me, but how criminal Godalming is becoming ...

Lord H has spent the day in Pulborough Brooks, so I hope he'll come back shortly to regale me with tales of all sorts of wild and wonderful birds he's spotted. In the meantime, I've squeezed out another 1,000 words to The Bones of Summer, thus taking me to the grand total of 22,000. Or thereabouts. And it was a squeeze at the start, I can tell you - took me ages to get going, and I had to play three online Solitaire games (as you do) before I could even write a word. But things got easier as I warmed up. Thank God. It's a funny old game.

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