The end?

On Friday I had the great pleasure of writing “The End” after penning, or rather typing, almost 80,00 words of my first novel. I can’t tell you how pleasing it was to write those two words. I’ve written a whole book!

But it isn’t really the end, that much I do know. This is really just the beginning. While writing the book was in fact easier than trying to print it off on both sides of A4 paper and in order – an intelligence test I almost failed – I know there is plenty more hard work to come.

My friend and I will be reading my book while holidaying in Spain – with a critical eye – and another writing buddy has it on her bedside table while I’m away. Once I’ve collected enough feedback it will be onto draft number two and no doubt some radical changes, there’s a lot of work to be done. For example, I’m pretty sure my main character – her name is Ronnie – is aged 27 at the start of the book and after only a year has her 29th birthday. Now that’s just not possible.

Despite knowing I have a long way to go before my book’s ready to send out to agents, I am semi-fulfilled in the knowledge I’ve written a whole novel and that, having printed it out, finally, I can hold it in my hands with pride. It’s a good feeling.

The aim is to get my second draft and then a third and final draft done by October and then start pitching. Fingers crossed someone will take the bait.

My passion for tacky fridge magnets

Have I ever told you that I collect tacky fridge magnets? Probably not, ‘cos it’s not something most people would want to boast about. But I do, the tackier the better. That said, all fridge magnets are tacky so it’s not hard.

This week has been particularly fruitful in the fridge magnet stakes, bagging three of the not so precious items – from Mauritius, New York and Portugal. Excellent work, Smithers.

I have quite a collection now, my favourites being a Cornish pasty from Cornwall, which actually looks more like a dead turkey; a fetching wooden shield type thing from Prague;  a snow globe magnet from the French Alps boasting a picture of a husky dog; and a paella dish from Spain. Classics.

Sorry this blog post is late…

Cripes, I haven’t written a blog post for a couple of weeks! I’ve just been reminded of this fact by my mother who is a regular reader; it means we don’t need to speak on the phone much  ‘cos she already knows what I’ve been up to. So, if there’s anyone else out there wanting to avoid their folks – start a blog is my advice.

Anyhoo, I’ve been swamped with work and writing and I’m still struggling with my sleeping pattern so want to snooze in the middle of the day and don’t feel an eency weeency bit tired at bedtime.  And that’s why I’ve been a bit lax on the blogging front. That said, I’ve penned 70,000 words now and with another weekend writing session pencilled in at the end of this week, my first draft should be ready by the end of the month, hoorah.

It’s now only 17 sleeps until my hollibops in Spain and I am very much in need of a break, some proper sunshine and a chance to re-establish some kind of normal sleeping pattern.

The main reason I want to finish the first draft of my book by July is so that my buddy AJ can read it while we’re away. That way I she can give me instant feedback and I’ll be able to hear her laugh – or not as the case may be – at the funny bits. A few select others have been chosen to cast their eye over it too, my mother not being one of them. She read one of my short stories recently and the only thing she could say about it was that it wasn’t double spaced. Give me strength. Him mum, by the way! (I know she’ll be reading this)

Anyhoo, back to the book. I’m at the stage where I really need to print the damn thing off and read it on paper. My eyes are glazing over with the amount of time I spend at the screen and I want to physically hold my book in my hands so it feels more real. This will in no way be the finished article, but I’ll be the best part of the way there, at least.

So, what else am I gonna do in Spain? Very little, to be honest. I plan on spending the days being horizontal, soaking up the sunshine and occasionally dipping my toe – maybe even my ankles – into the sea. (Obviously I won’t be horizontal for that bit). I am going to set a holiday reading record and try and plough my way through five books in seven days and I may partake in the odd logic problem too.

The evenings will be spent tucking into salted seabass, paella or steak tartare, washed down with white wine spritzers. There may be a few mojitos consumed at Nikki Beach and a spot of shopping in Puerto Banus and that’s just about it. Me and AJ have our little holiday routine and I’m looking forward to starting it. Relaxation is the name of the game and as tempted as I am to take my Macbook Pro with me, the mean machine will be staying at home. No internet? For a whole week? Nooooo.

Review: Single White Failure

I’ve recently read Single White Failure, a novel by GJH Sibson. It’s about a 20-something guy embarking on a series of dates in London, the kinda girl equivalent of Bridget Jones I think, although I’m doubtful he wears big knickers and he’s nowhere near as funny.

The book’s by a chap called Gareth Sibson who was one of the guest speakers at a literary masterclass in London. He’s obviously had a lot of success from his book, which he chose to self publish because agencies/publishers felt that while it was a great idea, it wasn’t marketable.

While I really warmed to the other published authors, Kate Mosse and Lola Jaye, I found Gareth’s arrogance a tad off-putting. While Lola, bless her cottons, told of the trials and tribulations of becoming a published author – sleep deprivation and downright desperation included – Gareth seemed above all this and tells us he knew better than the publishers’ marketeers as he too worked in marketing and, to quote, “I think I know more about  it than them”.  He may well have been right, his book, although self published, seems to be doing well. But it didn’t make me warm to him, and I don’t suppose he cares.

The book is about a guy called Max who finishes with his long-term girlfriend and embarks on a dating adventure with his two single mates. The opening chapter is brilliant, I really get pulled in, but from there it goes downhill. I may have warmed to Max a bit more if I didn’t know he was based on the author. I’m not a fan of the author so I’m not a fan of Max. How much more would I have enjoyed this book if I knew nothing of its origins?

It’s a great concept though – book shops are full to bursting with chick lit but what about guy lit? What about men’s trouble and strife as they enter the dating scene in their bid to find Mrs Right? In that sense, it’s a good read although a tad contradictory. Max slates a potential internet date who at 5ft 11ins herself wants to know his height before they meet. He thinks this is vain, I think this is an important issue. Max thinks it’s okay to bin off the not-so-slim girls and choose those with long, flowing, golden blonde hair, but when a girl asks his height he gets all offended.

There are some funny stories in there though, and I have no doubt that they’re true – there are some psycho girls out there – and it goes half way to proving that men and women really have very little in common. It’s no wonder dating is a miserable journey when men and women seek different things, feel different things and see things from a totally different perspective.

I was very nearly disappointed by the ending and almost to the point of throwing the book in a fire and watching it burn. Happy, soppy endings are so yesterday, in my view, and the way he thinks he’s found the love of his life the moment he sets eyes on her is just not realistic. But the ending turns out okay. Ish.

What does surprise me throughout the book is the spelling and punctuation. It’s bad, and I mean really bad.

Now I don’t know the process involved in self publishing but one assumes a great deal of editing and proofing still goes into it before it hits the presses. Of course, odd errors sneak into all books, we’re only human after all, but there are a lot of things that smack you in the face in this one.

Firstly, the use of apostrophes or lack thereof. The author can’t use them and the editors fail to notice; it’s a tad annoying. Secondly, any letter with an accute accent above it seems to be in a different font to the rest of the body text, and also in bold like it’s a really important letter. It’s not.

And then there’s the way the tenses are all mixed up and some blindingly obvious errors. One chapter opens with the words “It’s August”. Two sentences later and “the capital is in its first hot spell of the year. That essential three week period that manifests just after Easter each year.” Spot the obvious mistake? August, under any circumstances, isn’t just after Easter.

In the words of The Evening Standard reviewer “if you’ve lost your faith in men, he may just restore it”. Well, he doesn’t. It’s not the best read I’ve ever had although perhaps, knowing it’s self published, I read it with more of a critical eye. Still, it’s all good research for my own work-in-progress novel and for that I’m grateful.

What do David Cameron, Cherie Blair and a writers’ retreat in the Cotswolds have in common? Me!

Okay peoples, it’s been a manic week or so. So, should you care, here’s where I’m at:

Writers’ retreat

Me and three writer buddies spent the Bank Holiday weekend holed up in a cute cottage in the Cotswolds, a friendly mouse included, so we could crack on with our books. We’re all writing novels (two of them are on their second, the show offs) and genres include urban teenage fiction, sci-fi for teens, chick lit and literary fiction with an element of erotica. All good stuff. We critiqued each others’ work over a pub lunch, swapped ideas and spent much of the weekend glued to our laptops, save for lunches in the sunshine and a walk to the local pub. Brilliant. Feel totally inspired and motivated to get the first draft of my book finished by the end of June. And then a chosen few can read it. Writing a book tends to play havoc with my sleeping patterns so just to warn everyone, I am likely to be very tired from now until July.

David Cameron

I’d not long got back from my writers’ retreat on the Bank Holiday Monday and made the mistake of checking my work email. Actually, it’s a good job I did ‘cos I ended up going into the office at 7pm to fiddle with some stuff. Why? ‘Cos Tory Leader David Cameron came into work on Tuesday morning to deliver a keynote speech – not only a great honour to host the potential new Prime Minister but also a chance to showcase The Open University’s use of social media, in particular the website I co-edit, Platform. It was a manic but fulfillng day and you can read all about it here or check out my student blog here.

Cherie Blair

I barely know what day of the week it is, thanks to the Bank Holiday which has thrown me out of sync. But on Friday I will be heading to London, no, not to buy Heat magazine, but to interview Cherie Blair, AKA Cherie Booth QC. This means I will have done the Blair double as I interviewed el Tonio back in 2001 when he was Prime Minister and delivering a speech in the Shropshire town of Newport, where I was chief reporter. All good stuff.

Other stuff

Other stuff to note is that my gruelling fitness campaign has been forced to take a back seat because life has gotten in the way. This will get back on track after the weekend and my attempt to run the Race for Life on Saturday – please sponsor me!

Now I remember why I live alone

I’ve lived on my own for the best part of six years now. God, that makes me sound old. And people quite often ask if I get lonely. The answer, quite simply, is no.

I’ve become somewhat institutionalised over the years and love having my own space, my own place to curl away and hide. And I was reminded of how much I like living chez moi when I stayed at my mate LJ’s house at the weekend.

She’s just moved into a flat with a workmate who at 21 is almost five years younger than she is. The flat is gorgeous and LJ’s housemate is a tad excitable, understandably so having just moved out of her folk’s place, getting that first taste of real freedom.

So, LJ and I were fast asleep after a sensible and sober evening out. At 3.20am her phone rang and, stirring from her sleep she answered groggily.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you up?” I hear her housemate innocently ask.

Er yes, it’s 3.20am, I thought… but I bit my tongue.

Basically, Little Miss Housemate wanted to bring some guys and gals back to the flat. LJ said this was okay as long as they were quiet, hung up the phone and we both went back to sleep.

Some 20 minutes later and the noise begins. Lads in their 20s cannot keep noise to a minimal level when they are drunk. Fact. But why they insist on switching lights on and off and opening and closing LJ’s bedroom door I have no idea. Tres irritating when you’re trying to reach -and remain- in the land of nod.

After almost an hour of banging, shouting and general tomfoolery – all of which is fine when there aren’t two people trying to sleep next door – LJ had had enough. She stormed out of her room and in no uncertain terms asked her housemate’s guests to leave. Now.

And then there was silence, bliss.

While LJ may have been lying there thinking “what have I done?”, I was lying there thinking “this is why I live alone”.

I’ve no doubt noisy nights like that won’t be a common occurance but it did bring it back to me how valuable a good night’s sleep is and how irritating it can be when you’re prevented from getting one.

Totally addicted to sleep

I’m tired. And I seem to be tired a lot these days. I’m really struggling to re-establish a regular sleeping pattern and the result is late nights, power naps after work and struggling to get out of bed in the mornings. The alarm clock is not my friend.

Take yesterday, for example. Having gone to bed around midnight on Sunday, the alarm clock proved an unwelcome ringing in my ears and I got up at the last possible minute. I already eat breakfast at work to save time and my hair seems to be the latest thing to be neglected in order to save valuable sleeping time.

After a hard day in the office I swam 98 lengths in the pool, nearly fell over when I exited the water ‘cos my legs were so tired, scoffed down some tea and then went to meet the netball girls for a few drinks and a team chat. I was home by 10pm and after checking my emails and making a phone call I could barely keep my little peepers open.

So I retired to the boudoir, removed the day’s smudged mascara, clean my teeth and pulled my PJs off the floor and onto my person and climbed into bed, exhausted.

With the TV on for background noise – I always put the TV on a timer, I don’t like silence – I turn off the lamp and approximately two minutes after closing my eyes… I suddenly feel wide awake. WTF?

So a couple of chapters of my book and a bit of TV-watching later, I drift off. By now it’s past midnight and the early night I so needed and wanted has slipped me by. Needless to say, today was a struggle to emerge from my sleeping pit. Grrrrr.

I seem to crave my next sleep fix and plan my weekends around getting at least one lie-in.  Ironically, I’ve just been sent an email from Sleepmasters, offering “a fantastic opportunity to invest in a good night’s sleep with up to 25 per cent off a new bed.” Have already got comfy bed, I just need to spend more time in it!

Focus on fitness

Volleyball and netball season has drawn to a close and now my writing course has ended I find myself with a fair bit of time on my hands. With no more volleyball or netball training/matches until August (save for the summer netball tournament if it goes ahead) what on earth will I do with myself? Well, crack on with the next fitness campaign, of course..

My buddy reccommended a personal trainer to me and this little bundle of fitness – her name is Jade – has put together a six-week training plan tailored to my needs and aims.It rocks, in a “no pain, no gain” kind of way!

What do I want to achieve?

• To look like Kelly Brook in six weeks. Actually, just to look and feel fitter will be fine
• To notice a difference in my shape, noticeably the muffin top which volleyball and netball seem to neglect
• To give me a focus over the summer
• To maintain/increase fitness levels ahead of the new sports season
• To make sure I look hot on the beach in July

So, Jade has taken the above into account and meticulously put together a programme of activity, which includes five days of exercise per week, with two rest days. Activities include swimming, biking, running and a series of weights and evil lunge type exercises to boot. Jade talked me through the programme to make sure I was happy and inside I was chuckling to myself ‘cos she kept referring to me as an athlete. She knows all about my volleyballing and netballing activities and has therefore labelled me of athletic ability. I like it!

I started my programme today with a half hour sesh of weights and lunges, plus the plank and a bit of wobbling around on a fitness ball, followed by 50 minutes in the pool where I managed 88 lengths. I was knackered. I’m not used to weights and lunges and I felt a bit sick after doing some backward crunch things. And while 50 minutes in the pool did drag a bit – and I looked like a wrinkled prune when I got out – I felt bloody good, if a little tired, afterwards. That’s the feeling of achievement my friends!

Coupled with a decent diet and a whole load of discipline I’m hoping I stick to this programme and see the benefits come mid-June. Jade also said you need to eat every three hours or the body thinks it’s starving and I know this is something I can stick to. Sadly, you can’t snack on cakes and biccies, boo.

Tomorrow’s fitness agenda comprises a half hour run which will be a challenge – I’m a crap runner and usually give up after 10 minutes – so it will be interesting to see where I get the stamina from. Wish me luck!

A Cornish weekend

As much as I loved my long weekend in Cornwall, I was a little bit gutted to leave behind the sunny skies of Milton Keynes for the torrential rain of Lanivet, near Bodmin. Sod’s law.

Still, while blue skies would have been fantastic, it didn’t dampen our spirits one iota. Eight of us had a fab time, staying here, for my mate Jonesy’s 33rd birthday.

Festivities included a meal in the clubhouse courtesy of Jonesy’s brother (nice one); a dip in the hot tub (half the water spilled out with eight bodies in there, whoops); a DVD pub quiz (we’re all pretty thick, it appears); a shower with music, water jets, steam machine and fancy lighting (defo the way to wash); beers and dancing to top 90s tunes (Liz does the robot dance like a demon, Mandy does not); and drinking games (old school games are the best!).

Oh yes, and the highlight was lunch at Jamie Oliver’s restaurant, Fifteen, at Watergate Bay. Despite the blustery and wet day, the beach view was fabulous and so was the food – octopus for starters, veal and beef ragu for main (me and a mate shared two dishes) and chocolate nemesis for pudding. Yummers. Really liked the informal and relaxed atmosphere too, lots of buzz about the place and the modern and funky decor rocked. I’m defo making a return visit.

A literary boost

Okay, so I went to a literary masterclass at the London Book Fair on Saturday with two of my writer buddies, and it’s possibly given me the kick I needed to get on and spend some quality time with the laptop. And get my damn book finished, the first draft anyway.

The panel consisted of publishing gods Bill Swainson and Simon Trewin and authors Lola Jaye, Gareth Sibson and Kate Mosse, who each handed out their own shreds of  invaluable advice. It was mostly a question and answers session really but I was a little uncomfortable by some of the things pouring out of wannabe authors’ mouths. For example:

• I’ve written a book for a niche market. Should I approach a large or small publisher. Which niche market? Give the guys a clue.
• How many books do you have to sell to break even? How many grains of sand are there on a beach?

And, when we were specifically instructed to keep questions succinct and to the point so we could get more out of the two-hour session…

• I’d just like to take the time to thank the panel for giving up their time on a Saturday morning to help us. Just ask your damn question..
• I’ve had many manuscripts sent back without being read, is this bumble bumble bumble, manuscripts over the years, normal practice, bumble bumble, is that always the case? I repeat, just ask the damn question.

And then when there’s time for one final question a woman waves her hand vigourously in front of me..

• Erm, well, basically i’d like to ask the same question as the man before me (buy phrased differently). Give me strength.

Apart from the dogy questions it was nice to see what my fellow writers looked like. What does a writer/potential author wear, we asked ourselves as we headed to the Earls Court Conference Centre. Pretty much anything goes, it seems. Interesting to note was that the large majority of the 500-strong audience was female and most were over 50.

Anyway, what did I take away from this session? Here are the best bits summarised:

• Passion and enthusiasm for your writing are key
• Always remain optimistic but not unrealistic
• It takes time, be prepared to put in the elbow grease
• Do your research
• Writing for five minutes a day is better than not writing at all. The more you write the better you’ll get so don’t put it off if you think you don’t have time
• Just because you read one genre doesn’t mean you can write that genre. Stick with what you write best, don’t force it
• Keep submission letters short
• Learn from your rejection letters

Common sense stuff really, don’t you think? Anyway, I found it useful and inspiring and the boozy lunch we had in South Kensington afterwards was perfect for literary brainstorming with my writer buddies, one of whom has already bagged herself an agent. Lucky cow. And out literary convos have possibly conjured up an ending to my book. Hoorah!

So, action points from Saturday’s sesh are:

• Dedicate more time to writing, even if it’s in short bursts
• Find somewhere cool and comfy to go and write, too many distractions at home
• Organise a writers’ retreat for me and three girl pals in an isolated cottage somewhere pretty
• Order more books to read for inspiration and research
• Research potential agents interested in my genre of writing – contemporary women’s literature, AKA chick lit