Help me: I have turned into one of those dreadful people you meet at the school gates who tell lies about their children to make them sound more impressive.
Thursday, 31 January 2008
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
In recent years I've made friends with a fair few writers - some I've met in the flesh, some not but it doesn't seem to matter when it comes to the level of support fellow writers are prepared to extend to one another. We laugh about going into bookshops, spotting a novel or picture book by an author we've chatted to on the internet or met at a reading, and putting it in the most prominent spot possible (we do it with our own books too, of course!). We rally around those who have had a knock-back, and write big heartfelt HOORAY's when someone gets a deal or an agent. And okay, there might be pangs of jealousy (and of course you can't like everyone you meet, on- or offline) but the friendships I've formed are really important to me (and their books are truly wonderful).
Tuesday, 29 January 2008
About two minutes ago, The Australian turned around from the computer screen and said:
Saturday, 26 January 2008
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
I'm a tenth of the way into my rewrite (not huge strides, granted, but considering how long the box was at the top of the stairs, it's progress) and I have that warm glow of believing that what I've done so far has made the book better. (Today. It could all change tomorrow.)
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
This morning I had another of those 'completely unqualified to bring up children' moments, which seem to be coming thick n' fast. The trouble is - warm-glowish as it feels to have a lively, inquisitive child - that The Girl asks an average of four questions per minute, and so every fifteen questions or so I get a bit sloppy and distracted and give her a rubbish answer. This would be fine if she ever, ever let things lie.
Monday, 21 January 2008
I have long suspected that I am not really a team player, especially when the team is 'doubles'. For example, when I've played doubles tennis the biggest effort has been restraining myself from belting my own partner, and when I was giving birth I screamed 'GET AWAY GET AWAY DON'T TOUCH ME' at The Australian (on both occasions - you'd think he'd have learnt the first time), and when I started to collaborate on a novel with my mother last November I deteriorated into such depression that I aged about a decade and had to invest in copious amounts of Ulay. Olay? Ulay. Whatever. And finally, a few years ago, when a university friend and I decided to write an article together about our chronically low opinion of a book called The Rules, we spent two whole days writing four whole paragraphs - arguing over every 'and' 'but' and 'comma' until we realised our friendship was at risk and ditched the idea.
Friday, 18 January 2008
I was no longer scared of the box - I was the master of the box, and as such I opened it whenever I pleased and took papers out and wrote on them and put them back in and sighed Happy Writer sighs.
Monday, 14 January 2008
"Did you go to school when you were younger?" The Girl asked the other day. Feeling mildly put-out that she couldn't immediately tell I'd been educated to degree level, I laughed and said:
Thursday, 10 January 2008
Tuesday, 8 January 2008
Monday, 7 January 2008
Wednesday, 2 January 2008
1. The Chocolates