Weighty issues

This time next week I will be on my way to Sheffield, home of lovely Jarvis Cocker, the Arctic Monkeys and, for the weekend, a couple of hundred romance writers.

Very, very exciting (and pleasingly close to home as well!). 

I had a great time last year, it was exactly what I needed after the Great Wallow of 2012 aka my RNA report. Hopefully it will work its magic again; since sending Summer Fling back to the editor 7 weeks and 2 days ago *coughs* I have had a major crisis of confidence. A weekend of inspiration is exactly what I need.

And not just inspiration on the writing front. One of the talks this year will be given by a woman who has had a huge effect my year; Kate Harrison. 

As I drove back from Penrith last year I made a couple of promises to myself. That I would return to the conference as a published writer and I would return a great deal slimmer. The first seems just as far away as it did a year ago. The second, thanks to Kate, is beginning to feel - and look - very achievable. 

I have always struggled with my weight. It's easy to blame circumstances; a slow metabolism, the craziness of life as a working parent, lack of time. And these are all factors. But I also really like food. And wine. Five years ago, thanks to the excellent puddings at the school I worked at, I put on a terrifying amount of weight. I lost it, struggling back to a just-acceptable BMI and swore I would never let that happen again. Only it did. Of the two stone I had so painfully shed, one and a half crept back on, so slowly I barely noticed.

Only I knew. When you can't bear to look at any photos on Facebook, when you do your best not to be in any photos, when your jeans have to be put away because they don't fit, your tops gape - you know. There's a point when you can't tell yourself it's 'natural curves' any longer. And it's not just about vanity. I have a small daughter. I want to be a good, healthy role model and when the size sixteens are getting tight and the answer is always found in a slice of cake and glass or three of wine you have to wonder just what kind of example you are setting.

So last March I made a start. Three months on Slimming World shed the first six pounds, then eight months of My Fitness Pal got rid of another eight. But sticking to 1200 calories a day was restrictive and it was all too easy to slip. Then, in the New Year, I kept seeing people referring to the 5:2. Eating normally five days a week but restricting your calorie intake to 500 or under on the other two. 

It sounded hideous. No way was I going to get sucked in.

But then I bought Kate's book. And slowly I began to think maybe this might be a good idea and in the spring I finally decided to give it a go. One of the things I really liked was the challenge of allowing myself to feel hungry, not reaching for ways to instantly silence the first hunger pang. 

Having already lost a stone it hasn't been a dramatic plunge in weight. Rather a slow, steady half pound a week - but overall I have lost twenty one pounds. My BMI is acceptable, I fit in the jeans, in fact they are a little loose! I'd like to lose another half stone and then I think I'll be fine, still pleasantly curvy (not that I would flaunt them) but healthy. Able to enjoy cake and the odd glass or three, but also at peace with being hungry. Fit enough to walk the dog for miles and happy to enjoy a good pub meal afterwards.

Now if Kate can supply the same kind of writing inspiration then this year's conference is really going to be a success!

The reviewing dilemma

A few weeks ago I won a free copy of Charlotte Phillip's new novella Your Room or Mine on a Twitter giveaway by new digital-first imprint Harper Impulse. I was really pleased - until it dawned on me that they weren't just giving it away to be lovely and generous, but that of course they wanted reviews.

For someone who claims to know a little bit about marketing I can be quite remarkably dim sometimes!

Now, I love Charlotte's style, championed her through NV11 and adored her first M&B title Secrets of the Rich and Famous so was pretty sure I was going to love this one too (and I did. It's a lovely, bubbly read. A sweet, sexy short well worth a read) so that wasn't the problem. The problem is more that I don't often do reviews because, if push comes to shove, I'm not sure I can be impartial when it come to people I know.

It's true that I have publicised a few books on here. And it is also true that some are published by friends, the majority of them real life friends. If I did dislike their work would I publicly admit it? Of course not. Luckily this dilemma hasn't arisen yet (honest!). I didn't tell you to rush out and buy Donna Douglas' Nightingale Girls series because we used to work together and are regularly asked to leave restaurants because they would really like to go home now, but because she brings the 1930s and her huge cast of characters to life beautifully. So beautifully that I have been begging for hints about What Happens Next. She won't tell me.

Nor do I enthusiastically retweet and add to all the praise deservedly heaped on Pamela Hartshorne for Time's Echo as a thanks for all her patience and help and for always joining me in 'just one more glass'. It really is a fantastic, spine chilling book. According to my mother: 'The best book of last year, even better than Song of Achilles'. Which is high praise indeed because she loved Song of Achilles.

I genuinely loved every book mentioned on this blog. But the day will come when I am less than enthusiastic about a book written by someone I like and I don't want to be in the position of either writing a dishonest review or letting them know that. So this is why I stay away from reviewing, fab as it would be to get loads of ARCs and to be courted by publishers for my influential views *dreams*.

But to show that I am an honest reviewer here are some thoughts that I have had recently on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory a book that obviously I adore as a Children's Classic but have a few character driven problems with (especially point number one) that have been bugging me for over thirty years:
1. If Grandpa Jo is fit enough to go around the factory with Charlie why has he spent the last ten years or so in bed? Surely he could have helped his poor, hardworking, burdened son and daughter in law by tending an allotment or working part time rather than consuming cabbage soup and staying in bed? The same goes for Grandma Josephina, Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina. They can't all be that infirm!
2. No matter how amazing the chocolate is shouldn't the town boycott Wonka's products as he has contributed to the sluggish economy by firing his workers and importing slave labour? Uncut need to do some picketing.
3.  Which brings me to Augustus Gloop. A victim of Wonka's products. He would probably be a better person to takeover than Charlie, he obviously adores chocolate. Although he would need some hygiene training first. And a Health and Safety course. In fact the whole factory needs a Health and Safety audit pronto.
4. Verruca Salt; a victim of her upbringing. We all have the potential to be a Verruca Salt. Nowadays she would have a reality show and no one would bat an eyelid if she ordered a £1 million crystal bathtub. Actually, that isn't true. I would. I would bat and judge. But most people wouldn't.

It may be flawed, but it's mine

My first thought (after, 'What if I totally misunderstood what the editor means and I have actually made this WORSE', a thought that is still filling a good 50% of my brain at all times) when I finally pressed Send on Summer Fling was 'At last I can start something new!'
Four and a half weeks later I have 376 words. Words I know are highly unlikely to make it through to the final draft at that. And with a week from Hell looming (and *cough* Wimbledon), to say nothing of spending my morning off ironing not writing, I can't see that word count rising significantly any time soon.
After two finished mss - and four partials/unedited fulls - I am beginning to understand my process. Sure, to the casual onlooker it may look as if I have spent the last four weeks reading, look as if I whiled away the morning watching Gossip Girl and eating frozen yoghurt just as last week I spent my day off lying on the sofa binge reading Kristan Higgins and watching Queens, but Casual Onlooker I am slowly and surely figuring it out. Honestly.
I'm not a massive plotter, I don't lay my structure out on paper. I don't have a notice board or a highlighter pen or post-its cool as they are. I don't write character studies or Q&A's and Pinterest their wardrobes. Maybe I should. At least I'd have something to show for my time.
But four weeks of dog walking and thinking and frozen yoghurt have achieved something.
I know my hook. I know my conflict. I know what makes both my Hero and heroine tick even if his job is a little unclear to me right now. I know my three acts even if I don't have each scene plotted within those acts. I have names for them, but they may change, and I don't know exactly what - or who - they look like but I know their setting. And no, I haven't done the necessary research yet because I know I'll get sucked in and never get words on paper. I'll do that as I go along.
Sure, this process is flawed. It's time wasting and stressful and full of guilty 'why am I lying on the sofa and Not Writing' panic. But it looks like it's my process.
Time to find out if it works....

Things to do whilst inbox stalking

Nobody warns you. There's a lot of good advice out there; 'just write', 'try every day', 'write for you', 'save the cat', 'three act structure', '100 uses for Pinterest that are research, honest' blogs, books and courses. But nowhere have I found any advice on how to stalk an inbox in a calm and dignified fashion.

I blame my smartphone myself. It must have been different in the old days when the anxious aspiring writer was dependent on one postal delivery a day to communicate their 'yes', 'no' or 'possibly if you change everything'. If you were out, you were out. If the post didn't bring anything well,njoy the rest of your day. But now your inbox follows you around, looming over your head like a dark, gloomy, portentous cartoon cloud making you jump every time you are offered another 10% off a tent/free delivery on a takeaway/school newsletter* *delete as applicable

Hand over the water small ones

I even had 3G on the top of a mountain in the Lakes. So I checked my emails in between stealing water from the child and the pup and convincing my exhausted legs that they could go on.

Sixteen months, one alternative submission, five new opening chapters and a total rewrite later I finally sent in my R&R. Sixteen days ago. My romance fast tracked full was sent in 26 weeks and 5 days ago. Not that I am counting or anything.

But that means I am waiting on two manuscripts. Two and a half years worth of drafts, rewrites, edits, starting again, feedback and did I mention rewrites? 

Of course the best thing to do is keep writing. Start something new. And I am! I will! Only what? Another category? Something else? After four years of writing category? *head explodes*

So, in the last two weeks I have:

• walked up mountains
• been a good, ultra critiquing CP
•  enjoyed the sunshine (actually, this is obligatory. In Yorkshire you can never, ever assume that just cause the sun is shining today it will again tomorrow. Or again this year.)
• watched the French Open and marvelled at how much tweeting Andy Murray does when he isn't actually playing in a tournament whilst putting the Top 4 into Harlequin categories (Federer Presents, natch, Murray Riva/Kiss, Nadal historical, probably as a pirate like in the Majorca ads he does and Djokovich Cherish. I know he lives in Monte Carlo but he has a poodle and is a huge joker so can't be a Presents hero). 
• reread Wolf Hall and then lost myself in Bringing up the Bodies via admiring Philippa Gregory's pageturning awesomeness in the Kingmaker's Daughter and finally, finally finishing Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. And enjoying it!
• Unsubscribing from all those marketing emails

Whilst still checking my inbox 500 times a day. *sigh*

Mr Wrong

Our esteemed *cough* Minister of Education has recently weighed in with his views on children's reading. Young people, says Michael Gove, should not be addling their brains with popular nonsense like Twilight but should be reading Middlemarch instead. This gem in the same week, he attacked the use of  Mister Men in teaching history and has decreed that already stressed 11 year olds must have an hour's grammar test included in their SATS, replacing a longer piece of writing.
Now. I too, think grammar is pretty important. I love Middlemarch (and have read all four Twilight books and seen all five films, see Michael? It's possible to do both!) and, although as a British Citizen I am constitutionally required to own a full set of the Mister Men, I do concede they may be a little young for GCSE students.
But it's not as simple as that. Unless you're the Minister of Education. For instance the Mister Man component is just a small part of the course, a way for GCSE students to look at how they would teach history to younger students. And yes, children do need to learn basic grammar, but to this extent and at this age? Surely teaching them to write, to get their thoughts on paper is the most important thing, not to constrain them by rules? There is plenty of time for them to learn what a preposition is, the whole of secondary school for instance.
I have a bright, curious, nine year old daughter. I am really lucky; at the moment she is motivated, enjoys school and works hard. Parent-teacher evenings are a pleasure to attend. But, until recently, she wasn't a reader. I tried really hard not to struggle with this, especially as she is both sociable and active, qualities her bookworm mother doesn't really possess. And as both her father and I read to her every night I made sure that she was versed in the entire works of Noel Streatfield..
So you can imagine my surprise when I turned up at a parent's meeting last year to find that she was way ahead in reading. How could a child who never read for fun be ahead? A child who got bored before the end of Chapter three? Her (lovely) teacher used phrases like 'reading deeply into the text' and 'insight' and showed me how far she was up what seems like a never-ending learning ladder. Which is great. But I would by far have preferred her to enjoy reading, not simply tick the right boxes.
It turned out she just needed the right trigger. A couple  of months ago she picked up the first Harry Potter and that was it, hooked. She has just finished all 636 pages of Goblet of Fire in just over two weeks. I am DELIGHTED. Not for me a reprimand for reading at the table, ignoring me when I talk to her, warnings of car sickness. Watching her read fills me with utter happiness. And I don't care what she reads, as long as she is reading.
So no, not every student will leave school having read Middlemarch. So what? If they have been imbued with a love of books then they may in the many, many years of reading that lie ahead. I was in my thirties when I read it and don't feel that I was handicapped by this advanced age at all. I was, however, put off Iris Murdoch for life by trying to read my mother's copy of The Bell on holiday when I was ten (I read my first Mills and Boon that very same holiday). Snobbery about reading, snobbery about books, pushing books onto people who aren't ready or interested, this is what holds children back. Let them find their own way to books, give them choices and encouragement and cut down on the tick boxes. That's what may just create a nation of readers.

The perfect reread

There's a fine art to rereading; real rereading not the 'so good I have to read it again straight away'  or 'psyching myself up for the next one in the series' or  'discovering a book on your shelves you forgot you had but kind of remember liking' type. I mean the regular rediscovery of old favourites.

But not too regular. Read them again too soon they lose their charm, leave too long a time and they become as new again.

Rereads for me are the comfort reads, the slippers, hot bath and glass of good wine books. In a five

Read it LOVE it

year cycle I usually reread I Capture the Castle, all of Jane Austen, my entire collection of Noel Streatfield, LM Montgomery's Anne books plus The Blue Castle (buy it, read it, LOVE it. I promise you joy), all of Diana Wynne Jones, Georgette Heyer's regency and Georgian romances and the entire Chalet School even the crazy last ones although I have to come up with an alternative ending where Len break off her engagement to creepy Reg Entwhistle, Margot escapes the convent, Con gets a personality of her own and one Old Girl manages to combine a career with marriage. 

My cover, clothes are all wrong
but I like the dreaminess of it

Today I realised I was adding a new author to the list. Many years ago I was staying with a friend and, in a conversation about books, we confessed our guilty pleasures. I owned up to Georgette (I am brazen about that now but at uni  I kept my love of any genre fiction hidden) and she told me about a book she and her sisters adored. Eva Ibbotson's 'A Countess below Stairs'. I gulped it in one sitting. It was perfect. White Russians, post WW1 country houses, an emotionally wounded hero and Anna. Anna Grazinsky, Countess and house maid, strong, passionate and utterly adorable. A book peopled with so many brilliantly drawn secondary characters it feels three times as long as it is. It's since been reissued as 'the Secret Countess' and is available everywhere but I had to track it down in a second hand book shop, just as I did most of Antonia Forest's Marlow books and my battered copy of I Capture the Castle. 

I haven't been to Vienna but I have managed Austria,
conjured up so lovingly by  Ibbotson

Last night I finished Countess for the fifth time. I have just reread the same author's Madensky Square, a bitter sweet book set in Ibbotson's native Vienna, whose older, sadder, emotionally scarred heroine stays with you long after the book is finished and Magic Flutes, also set in Vienna. I found myself eyeing up the Morning Gift and wondering why I don't possess a Company of Swans. Gorging myself on Ibbotson's sharp humour and perfect sense of time, place and character.

Eva Ibbotson was also the brilliant author of children's classics including The Great Ghost Rescue,  The Beasts of Clawstone Castle and her multi award winning Journey to the River Sea. Everyone of these books is a joy and you should read them, love them and hand them to a child forthwith but start off with Anna, start off with the Countess and I'll see you back here in five years for the next reread. Now where did I put that copy of the Morning Gift?

Returning the favour

In the last couple of month I have been tagged in a few blogger posts which is very sweet of the people concerned *beams at Pam, Tracey and Lindsay* but then *hangs head in shame* I spent so long thinking up answers I totally forgot to actually, you know, blog. I do the same with birthdays - get the perfect card and then forget to send them. 
Rubbish friend, rubbish blogger!
So. Today I will reply to all three tags - unless the garage phones with bad news about my car which is currently undergoing its MOT/Service, always a stressful time for me and my bank balance- in which case I will no doubt forget to post this...

Back in January the DOUBLE RITA NOMINEE (sorry about the caps but in this case totally justified. Two nominations for two books in totally different genres in two names. Some achievement) Pamela Hartshorne aka Jessica Hart tagged me in this: 
'

Go to either page 7 or 77 of your manuscript. Go down 7 lines and then copy the next 7 lines into your status. After that, tag 7 authors to play along.' 

I was (am) a bit shy about this as Pam  tagged some amazing writers in her post and I felt a little daunted by such illustrious company. But here, in the interests of openess and transparity is my own modest offering...

‘Pregnancy?’ He looked up in shock. ‘I didn't know Suzy was expecting.’

        ‘I expect she was keeping it a secret from you knowing your less than enlightened views on working mothers,’ Fliss said drily.

         ‘I have no view on working mothers, or on working fathers for that matter, I just expect my employees to pull their weight at work not be at home with their feet up. Damn! This is the most critical time, we'll never get anyone to take over at this short notice. Fliss, you're just going to have to do it.’

Okay then, moving swiftly on. Next the lovely Lindsay Pryor tagged me in the *cough* Inspiring Blogger award. Lindsey's eagerly awaited second novel Blood Roses (runner up in New Voices 2010) is released at the end of this month but her debut Blood Shadows is available now and if you like paranormal romance then you are in for a treat. This award requires me to display the following symbol and tell you seven things about myself.  Lindsey's facts were brilliant and really entertaining. Oh dear, this is going to be tough!

1. I once worked in a shop on Scarborough seafront and part of my duties included selling rock from under a sign that said 'Cheapest on the Front'. I also had to put the pictures onto the bestselling strip mugs; pictures of attractive 70s looking models whose clothes allegedly faded as the mug was filled with hot water. 

2. I was mistaken for Maria McKee in a Glasgow nightclub. This was some time ago.

3. In my late teens my going out outfit of choice included ripped fishnets over purple tights and a bowler hat. I am not entirely sure why.

4. My family allegedly has Russian blood, royal of course. My grandmother always claimed to have felt the spirits of her ancestors as she stood on a bridge on the Neva in St Petersburg. I too hoped to feel this connection but all I could feel was torrential rain and we never did work out where to buy an umbrella. 

5. I am half Irish and quarter German. This is in addition to my drop of royal Russian blood. 

6. I got married on stage in the Stephen Joseph theatre in Scarborough.

7. I am MUCH better tempered when I am near the sea. Sadly for my family the sea is a good hour away...

The final tag was handed to me just today so for once I am timely!  Tracey Rogers, whose debut novel Daring to Love is soon to be published by Beachwalk Press has tagged me in this. I have to thank her (thank you!), display another banner (I am getting the hang of this) and then answer a few happy, sunshiny questions. Here we go...

Favourite Number My daughter was born on the 3rd so if I had to choose one it would be 3.

Favourite non-alcoholic drink Gin! Oh, hang on. Non alcoholic? Erm. Well I drink at least five cups of tea a day...

Facebook or Twitter Oh Twitter. Always. Facebook can be a bit cutsey and smug for my taste but Twitter always makes me laugh.

Your passion Reading although that probably goes without saying. I got a replacement Kindle last Easter and there are 150 books in the read file. Plus the thirty or so I read in actual book format. Not bad for a year's haul. My favourite thing at the moment though is walking my dog. He is just 8 months old, a mini schnauzer/spaniel cross and full of character (ie naughty). I have walked him through snow, fog, much drizzle, on grey freezing days and I love it. Imagine how much more I'll love it when we get our two days of summer. 

Giving or Getting Presents I get a bit embarrassed when people buy me presents so giving every time. The pup was a surprise for my daughter's birthday, we told her we were going on a day out to a National Trust propery. Her face when she saw the tiny, wriggly bundle of fluff...

Favourite Day Friday. That's my day off work aka writing day.

Favourite Flower the first snowdrops of spring. 

Now I have to tag people *evil chuckle*. If the three people who tagged me haven't already done any of these then I choose them. Otherwise I tag my lovely CP's Jane O Reilly whose debut Once a Bad Girl is out NOW so buy it (please), Julia Broadbooks and Alexa Fiennes. x