The Next Big Thing

Last week my friend, the fabulous Lesley Cookman (author of the superb Libby Sarjeant cosy crime series), tagged me in the Next Big Thing, an online chain of author and book recommendations - so today's blog post is me, answering set questions, about - yes, you guessed it - my Next Big Thing, which just happens to be my next book - AN ENORMOUSLY ENGLISH MONSOON WEDDING - which will be out in hardback and kindle in February 2013, and paperback in May 2013.

So, here goes....

What is the title of your next book?

Er - oops, sorry - just said that above - AN ENORMOUSLY ENGLISH MONSOON WEDDING.

Where did the idea for the book come from?

I wanted to write a funny, summery, weddingy book set in a country village - but with a difference. And as I've recently been closely involved with several fusion weddings, a sort of East-Meets-West marriage of different cultures seemed like a good idea.

What genre does your book fall under?

My very own branch of Romantic Comedy - Bucolic Frolics!

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

 

No idea... My heroes live entirely in my head and heart, and I'm not sure there's a *real person* out there that would match them - although, assuming we're talking fantasy-casting here, if Jim Parsons was available to play anyone in anything I've ever written I'd be ecstatically speechless for ever and ever. Oh, and I have to admit that my heroines all have a touch of Katherine Parkinson about them...

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

My books are traditionally published by the Piatkus imprint of Little,Brown.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

About 8 weeks. I only ever write one draft and then edit as I go along. If I had to do several drafts I'd lose interest and write the life out of it. I'd tinker and faff and mess about with commas and then get bored....  

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I'm kindly linked with amazingly talented rom-com authors like Jill Mansell, Carole Matthews, Milly Johnson, Jane Lovering and Katie Fforde - I'm fantastically flattered by this!

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

My daughter's fabulous fusion wedding - which I must say, went far more smoothly than Erin and Jay's in AN ENORMOUSLY ENGLISH MONSOON WEDDING - with none of the horrors. My fictional fusion wedding is entirely fictional!

What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?

The tagline for this book is "BOLLYWOOD COMES TO BERKSHIRE" - so I hope this is a hint that it's a bit mad, and colourful and noisy and lively... And it covers the six scorchingly hot summer weeks before Jay and Erin's wedding - a wedding they've planned carefully, a wedding they're absolutely sure will go exactly the way they want it to, without any hitches or problems or  interference from friends and family... Poor deluded souls... Oh, and it's the first book in my new series of Bucolic Frolics. It's set in the village of Nook Green - and future books will take place in the neighbouring villages of Bluebell Common, Maizey St Michael, and Daisybank. 

 

So - that's my Next Big Thing - and next Wednesday, November 7th, check out the blogs of my super tagged authors below, and find out what their NEXT BIG THING is going to be....

Sheila Norton/Olivia Ryan
Julie Day
Hazel Osmond
Lizzie Lamb

 

Sorry Blog - It's Been A Long, Long Time...

Dear Blog - I'm very sorry that I've ignored you for so long, but you know how it is... stuff happens, some things have to take priority, other things get ignored - and yes, sorry again, but you were among the latter. I can see you've gone sniffy on me because everything's changed since we were last together. The Blogger layout for a start - and now the font and the settings - and I'm not sure that I like it. Hopefully, once we get used to one another again, it'll be okay.

And I've given you a gorgeous bunch of flowers here by way of apology and to show that we're all happy again. We are, aren't we???

So, Blog, I'm going to explain briefly, why you've been left to wander alone and unloved in Blogland since that last rather hurried post in Feb. FIVE months ago! Erk...

You see, Blog, you're supposed to be a happy thing. We've shared some tough times since we've been together, yes, but mainly you've been a source of light relief, something to smile over, maybe even raise a chuckle or a little giggle. And honestly, Blog, life has been a bit well, un-smiley and un-chuckly and un-giggly for ages and it seemed unfair to inflict a whole wodge of - basically - sad crap - on your shoulders. So, I ignored you.

Anyway, life now seems to be on the up - so I'm back and I hope you'll forgive me. The new book - AN ENORMOUSLY ENGLISH MONSOON WEDDING - is finished and with the copy editor. Now, you'll know that this book has been a bit of a trial - not least because when I'd written half of it - about last September - the computer crashed and burned and - gulp - I hadn't saved any of it. Yes, I know I'm useless - no need to rub it in. The boys at PC World did a good job of scraping the residue from the hard-drive but then it all had to be transported to the new computer - and it didn't like it. It just spat at me. And I was rubbish at trying to marry it with the new Word thingy - so I gave up and started writing it again...

 Then everyone in the family was ill - I mean mostly hospital-ill - and I should have had a season ticket to that car park! Oh - they're all fine now, thanks, but half my life seemed to be spent in various wards and departments for weeks and I wrote zilch.

Then there were the deaths. Not related to the above paragraph I'm relieved to say. And no details, Blog. But three very good friends, all young, all sudden. Three funerals, three lots of consecutive heartbreak, three lots of grieving, masses and masses of tears - and no writing at all. My heart simply wasn't in it.

So, when I wasn't at hospitals or funerals, I was at the vets. Lexie, with her inoperable intestinal *lump* and Emily with her epilepsy and kidney failure, were backwards and forwards on a daily basis for weeks and weeks and each visit had me in stomach-knots and floods of tears. And I found it hard to write anything at all - let alone something cheerful. Oh, yes - against all odds, both Lexie and Emily are doing well, thanks. In fact they're both in the garden in the sun (do you remember sun?) as I'm typing this, having eaten a good breakfast and look set to carry on for a good while yet - but it's been touch and go for ages... And you know me, Blog, I can never write when the cats are ill.

So, the book was late. Very late. And I panicked - a lot. And worked off-line - again, no time to visit you, or answer emails or anything. And then, even when the book was done, I knew it wasn't great because I was unhappy - and there were rewrites - twice - which scared me because I began to wonder if this poor book, with so many fits and starts, would ever be a) finished and b) any good. I'm very happy to say, Blog, that thanks to a lot of understanding, hard work, careful suggestions and more patience than I'd have had with me, by my lovely editors and agent, AN ENORMOUSLY ENGLISH MONSOON WEDDING has finally turned into the upbeat, romping book I'd always hoped it would be.

So, all the above is really why I've been AWOL for so long. And there was other stuff too - legal stuff, too tedious to mention - but it all ate into my time. It's been one of those years...

However, and with fingers and toes tightly crossed, I'm going to say that I think things are finally getting better. I'm feeling more positive and yes, rather stupidly (?) I've just decided to write four books at the same time. Yes, I know - but I had four ideas that wouldn't leave me alone - so I'm currently writing bits of each one every day. And now the sun's shining (literally and metaphorically) and I'm smiling again. And I'm back with you.

I really, really hope you'll forgive me...

See you again soon - promise, Blog.
lots of love
Me xxxx 

Publication Day!!!!

Yes, okay - it's over 3 months since I last blogged - THREE MONTHS! That's BAD! That's very, very BAD. I will start posting more regularly - promise - and there have been good reasons for the gap... oh, and I shouldn't even be blogging now because the new book has to be finished in Feb (and it will be!) so I'm deep in deadline hell, BUT I couldn't let publication day go by without a little bit of a celebration. Due to the deadline and everything else, the celebration will be pretty muted. There won't be any balloons or champagne or fireworks or bouquets - no, sadly my launch party is just me, still in my pyjamas, sitting in the back bedroom - er - study - at the desk, writing the new book while simply being ecstatically happy that NCSG has made it out there. So, the balloons and fireworks et al will be virtual, but I'm now raising a cyber glass of fizz to Never Can Say Goodbye! Happy Publication Day!

I'm A Guilty Pleasure!

Well, after weeks and weeks of non-blogging due to the crash and burn of my previous computer (very sad as we'd been together for 8 years and knew each other so well) I'm back online! My new pc is very swish and very fast and scares me witless. Hopefully one day we'll grow to love one another. At the moment we're edging round each other warily like children in a new school...

So, I've only one thing to say after my crash and burn experience - Back Up! I'm sure everyone else in the world religiously backs up their work on a daily/hourly basis - but I hadn't. I blame being the delirium of being a new Nanna. (Elle, Topaz and The Doctor are doing amazingly now - I'm still a bit shell-shocked). So, when the kiddies at PC World shook their heads over my old computer I knew I was in trouble... They've managed to retrieve a lot of stuff from the old hard drive but I'm still gnawing my knuckles in shame at things I've lost... So, please, please, please - don't think like I did - oh, it'll be okay - because it might just not be... I'm now backing up like a thing demented.

Anyhow, now I'm back online (thank you to everyone who enquired - and when I've worked out how the new email system works on this computer I WILL reply, promise) I'm going to kick off with a brag (sorry) - hence the post title and the picture...

In the brilliant Peter Robinson's brilliant new novel, Before The Poison, which I was reading in bed, I'm mentioned on page 315!!!! His heroine, Heather, has just settled into her new flat and has spent an evening eating pizza, watching trashy telly and reading a book for the first time in years - "a Christina Jones - a real guilty pleasure..."!!!!

Oh, well, wow! and thank you Peter - especially as you're mega-famous and currently have a series on telly and all. I was so over-excited at the mention that I dropped the book, yelled a lot, scared the cats and woke up The Toyboy Trucker who wasn't best pleased or even the teeniest bit impressed.

As for me - well, I'm preening and showing-off in my usual diva fashion and am telling anyone who'll listen that now I'm not just a New Nanna - I'm also A Guilty Pleasure!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's A Girl!

On Tuesday 9th August 2011 at 3.56 a.m. I became a grandmother! Yes, very early - and not without its dramas - but it's all over now and Mum and Baby are doing fine. Nanna (as I've elected to be called - as in Peter Pan) is still in shock.

Poor Elle, after a lousy pregnancy and several weeks in hospital with pre-eclampsia, became too ill to carry on so they decided to induce the baby last Sunday. After a 36 hour labour (don't ask - none of us ate or slept and God alone knows how Elle coped without shouting or screaming once, bless her - brave wasn't in it!) our granddaughter made her appearance. She was popped straight into an incubator and rushed off to SCBU where she was first in intensive care, then high dependency, then rallied nicely and eventually rejoined her exhausted mum and happy dad two days later on the ward.

I won't go into all the gory details but I can assure you that this will be our only grandchild! Anyway, she and Elle were discharged from hospital and finally came home last night - which is why I haven't posted before. They've both been given the all clear and are now happily reunited with The Doctor, and of course, our granddaughter is the cutest, tiniest, most gorgeous and perfect thing in the whole world - even though she shouldn't be here for quite a while yet.

Her name? Well she has two and they're beautiful: one British and one Indian to mark her dual heritage - but to protect her anonymity, for blog purposes, I shall call her Topaz because that's what I've been calling the bump since Easter when I was convinced it was a girl.

So now The Toyboy Trucker is a besotted Grumpy (Elle's choice!) - and a whiz at nappy changing and bottle feeding - and I'm just besotted and elated and really, really thankful it's all over.

Welcome to the world, Topaz - I'm your Nanna!!!!!!!!!!!

The End Of An Era - Or New Beginnings?

Last Friday The Toyboy Trucker left the company he's worked for for the last 12 years - his choice by the way, and one not taken lightly. From starting off sorting parcels in the warehouse, to delivering said parcels in a white van, to becoming a long-distance lorry driver, thundering up and down the country in a 42 ton artic - and then deciding to get himself an education while still working... And all those promotions and area moves to Operations Manager, then Depot Manager, and finally Southern Area Hub Manager...

So, this morning it was no more corporate suit-shirt-tie and briefcase-and-laptop and multiple mobiles! Hooray! This morning he started off on his new venture - working with his best mate on a cross-country delivery business of their very own. This morning he left here in jeans, polo shirt and boots.... He's a Toyboy Trucker again - and I'm more delighted than you'll ever know.

And this morning, after he'd left the house looking once again like the boy I fell in love with, I typed Chapter One of the new book of the new deal. It's still unoriginally called Book One because I'm still without a title, but I've written four pages already (it's 8.20 a.m.) and it's going okay... I will probably find it very hard to remember not to add a dollop of magic in this book - this is very much the end of an era for me too - but it's quite exciting to be starting something completely new.

So, Monday August 1st 2011 - the end of an era for both of us as we leave the safe and familiar behind and step into the unknown - but a date to remember for our new beginnings too. Risky? Yes, definitely. But we're both hoping they'll be lovely life-changing beginnings. Time, I'm sure, will tell...

My New Spiritual Home

Well! Unless you unleashed me in a chocolate factory with a spoon I couldn't have asked for more! We (me, The Toyboy Trucker, Elle and The Doctor) went to Southall Broadway to shop for wedding clothes... And I was entranced, bedazzled, completely overcome with dizzy excitement. So many fabulous shops. All those rainbow colours... All that glitter and sparkle and twinkle... Total, absolute bliss.


The Doctor's brother is getting married next month, in a traditional Hindu/Jain ceremony - which involves several events (not just the wedding - and even the reception takes place the day AFTER the nuptials) so we needed suitable outfits - naturally. Well, The Toyboy Trucker and The Doctor are wearing suits, but Elle and I felt that as "family" we should be bedecked in as much Indian splendour as possible... It wasn't just an excuse for yet more clothes shopping, honest...

So, we went to Southall to buy something stunning and authentic - and I absolutely adored it!!!! It's vibrant, jam-packed, lively - and looks and smells and sounds as if you've just stepped into a Bollywood movie. There's no "death of the High Street" in Southall, I can tell you. And oh, what bliss to be served by people who actually cared. Who were interested in what we bought and why we were buying it. Who said - and proved - that nothing was too much trouble.

Elle, determined to look fabulous and girly and not at all like a marquee (even though she will be nine months pregnant on the wedding day) homed in on swathes of sari silk in lilac and silver, turquoise and gold - all of which floated and fell beautifully round her bump - set off by matching softly-gathered salwar trousers encrusted with sequins and embroidery - and the most fabulous matching dupatta stoles, and looked like a princess. Albeit quite a large princess....


I settled on a salwar suit in purple and gold... I'm now convinced that I shall live in salwar suits for the rest of my life. Why have I never discovered them before???? So comfortable, so elegant, so flattering, so pretty - they're light and drifty to wear, hide a multitude of sins, and made me feel like a - well, no not a princess (too old, too fat) - maybe a sort of Bhangra Queen Mother????

By the time Elle and I had ooohed and aaahed our way up and down the Broadway, and eventually made up our minds, and then dived in and out of a zillion jewellery shops for the necessary matching multiple bangles and ear-rings, The Toyboy Trucker and The Doctor had become a bit bored with all the glitz and glam and girlie shrieks of glee, and wandered off to Jalebi Junction, one of the most famous food stalls Southall has to offer.


Jalebis are sticky, glorious, made-on-the-spot sweets. Spirals of fresh dough are piped into boiling oil and fried while you wait and watch. The dough takes on the characteristic orange colour in the deep frying process and is then dunked into another container of sugar syrup. The jalebis are then cooled on a wire rack until they can be popped into a brown paper bag and handed to you with the warning that they're very, very hot. Yes they are, but I defy anyone not to eat them while they're very, very hot. Even though you can't speak and get covered in syrup and look pretty disgusting... They're the most delicious things I've ever tasted - well, apart from the Gulab Jamons of course (the nearest thing to Rum Babas - and heaven - I've ever found).

Eventually - after eating our body-weight in an Indian veggie buffet restaurant - we made our way home, tired, full-to-bursting, and deliriously happy. All I hope now is that the baby stays put and we can wear our finery at the wedding - otherwise at the next Romantic Novelists shindig I'll be the fat one in the Salwar Suit and far too many bangles....

Never Can Say Goodbye

Yes, I know NCSG isn't out until February next year (hardback in Sept this year) but I absolutely LOVE the cover, so I'm making no apologies for using it as the illustration for this post. I think it's just so girlie and pretty... I've got a copy pinned on the wall in front of me and I just sigh wistfully over those gorgeous frocks and the fabulous trailing roses and the to-die-for handbags... Thank you so much to Louise Anglicas, the clever, talented artist, for producing something so totally beautiful.

And as Never Can Say Goodbye is about a retro frock shop run by Frankie, the heroine, and has a DDG florist, Dexter, as the hero - then the frocks'n'flowers combination works so well. Yep - it's official - I'm in love with this cover...

Of course, there's a lot more to NCSG than just frocks'n'flowers. It's winter in the quaintly old-fashioned Berkshire village of Kingston Dapple - a very, very cold winter - and Francesca's Fabulous Frocks in the market square is home not only to a mass of vintage dresses, but also to a collection of very odd people. There's Brian from the kebab van; Biddy the bitch; Lilly, Frankie's air-head flat-mate; Cherish, the worst colour-palette-advisor in the world; Maisie the useless medium - and of course Dexter, the philandering Beckhamesque florist and his many conquests. Several of my previous characters appear too: Slo and Essie, Phoebe, Amber, Clemmie, Sukie etc, and all the cooks from The Way To A Woman's Heart - oh, and of course there are also ghosts... ghosts with attitude... ghosts with issues... ghosts with frock-envy... funny ghosts... sad ghosts... and even ghosts who don't know they are ghosts.

I've always wanted to write a rom com ghost story and am so pleased that Never Can Say Goodbye rounds off my practical magic series nicely.

So, yes - the good news - I've just been offered a new deal by my lovely publishers Piatkus/Little,Brown (thank you!!!) - and the bad news (maybe?) - it's the end of the current series. After eight books, we've all decided that it's time to say goodbye to the magic and hello to a whole new world.

So, while I'm still going to be bucolic frolicking in rural Berkshire, it's goodbye to Hazy Hassocks, Bagley-cum-Russet, Fiddlesticks, Lovers Knot and Winterbrook and their inhabitants - and hello to Nook Green, Daisybank, Bluebell Common and Maizey St Michael along with a whole new set of characters having a whole new set of romantic and hopefully funny adventures.

I think it'll be hard for me to leave the Hubble Bubble world behind - but I'm very excited about getting to know my new villages and meeting the people who live there. And as the first one (currently imaginatively titled Book One) in the new series has to be written, finished and delivered by Feb I really ought be popping off to Nook Green right now...

Ghod Bharai - and My Bindi

Elle had her Ghod Bharai on Sunday - and it was absolutely brilliant. I hadn't got a clue what it entailed - but the Ghod Bharai is a Hindu baby shower thrown by all the Indian female rellies when the 7th month of pregnancy passes into the 8th - yep, it's gone that quickly! It's a lovely colourful happy celebration (and held - fortunately - in the mum-to-be's own home) when they bring traditional gifts and money and jewellery and bless her and the baby and eat a lot! There were some prayers and some funny traditional stuff like passing a small child between Elle and The Doctor seven times for luck (fortunately one of the cousins-in-law had brought a small child so we didn't have to go out and find one - this might have involved having to answer a lot of awkward questions). The Toyboy Trucker and I loved every minute of it! I had to present her with a kilo of rice washed by the waters of the Ganges (so not Tescos!) and a coconut with a swastika on it - the swastika being a Hindu symbol of happiness, well-being and joy...

In the absence of the necessary sisters-in-law, Elle's female cousins-in-law plus her sis-in-law-to-be had to dress her in a ceremonial sari which had to be attached to a rope-thing tied round her bump and then pleated - it took ages and yards and yards of material and because it was heavy (emerald green silk covered in gold threads) she could hardly move. And she looked like a marquee. However she was very good and didn't scream or bite anyone so that was a blessing.

The full-on Hindu wedding of The Doctor's brother and the beautiful Nisha is imminent (two weeks before Elle's due date - eeek!) and all the cousins agreed there was no way Elle could wear a sari for that - so if she's okay (she's enormous and has SPD and some scary foot/leg/hand swelling - the Dr and midwife say her BP is normal and she's doing fine - so maybe it's just me that's worrying), we're going to Southall next week with the girlie-cousins-in-law to find something more comfy and suitable for her to wear at the wedding - probably a sari suit with a long flowing jacket over stretchy silk trousers with elasticated waist. I'm going Eastern as well and am hoping to find a sari in purple and gold.... I'm so looking forward to it as I love all things colourful and glittery and don't mind in the slightest looking like a marquee (par for the course for me).

The very best thing about Elle's Ghod Bharai for me, was the bindis. They're the face jewels for Hindu celebrations. Elle had to have seven in a rainbow across her forehead, but I had one as mother of the mother-to-be and it was a tiny tear-drop ruby surrounded by diamonds between my eyebrows. Fabulous! I'm still wearing it! And no, sadly, that isn't me in the picture - ooooh, I wish...

Oh, and the food was amazing too. Elle and The Doctor had provided the food - an entire veggie Indian banquet - and the rellies cooked it - the kitchen was just filled with women of all ages in multi-coloured saris all cooking away and chattering like magpies and we ate it in the sunshine in the garden and it was the most fabulous spread ever - and we didn't move for the rest of the day!

When the baby arrives they're all coming back on the 6th day to have a similar ceremony for the Naming of the Child. I do love the way they celebrate things, and all the colour and laughter and sparkle. And the food... Oh, and especially the bindis...

Ten Years Today

This isn't a proper blog post - I'm planning on getting back to those really, really soon, promise - but just a little memorial for Pat, and for me, because I feel I have to mark the tenth anniversary of her death - and not just with my own ritual of sitting in the garden on our (now crumbling but still there - just) seat with all the usual accompaniments, and remembering and being sad and happy and lonely all at the same time, which I did early this morning in the sun and the birdsong.

It's ten years today without her in my life - still can't believe it... Still miss her so much. Still think about her every day. The things below are what we always had by way of celebrating absolutely anything, and what we said we'd have at our funerals when were at least 97...

So, Pat, love, if you're up there laughing your socks off because I'm now 10 years older than you and about to become a grandmother (you'd have been an ace Great Auntie Pat!) - this is for you with love, always...

Blue and yellow irises - our favourite flowers in our favourite racing colours on so many happy occasions. Nothing more to say on that score!

Cream slice - our favourite cake. Such a lot of fun to be had with them - and so much mess to be made - and so much licking of fingers etc (and not necessarily our own or each other's!) afterwards...


Cristal champagne - we always raised a glass at every opportunity - and then some!




And finally - Wrigleys spearmint chewing gum - for reasons far too rude and personal and private jokey to post here - and she'll know why!

Coming Out on Kindle and Other Stuff

So - after months of procrastinating and faffing and declaring that I'm far too much of a techno-idiot to cope with anything electronic and that books are books with paper pages you can turn and feel and smell and not soulless words-on-a-screen, I've joined the 21st century!

I've gathered together two short-ish volumes of short-ish short stories and published them on Amazon Kindle with the help of lovely Aimee Fry from The Author Works who did the covers, and I'm chuffed to bits with them!

Bucolic Frolics - a collection of rural romps - is available on ASIN:B004UH7V5Q
and
Happy Ever After - a selection of short rom-coms - is on ASIN:B004UGPVH2

It took me ages and ages to work out how to do it (even though the Kindle instructions are wonderfully simple, but then so am I...) then I had a eureka moment when it all fell into place - and I was SO proud of myself when I did it! I wasn't sure about pricing, so just went for the cheapest option, and I'm now going to have a go at *Kindling* a couple of my earlier out of print books and some more short stories - so you have been warned!

The absence from the blog and the plunge into *Kindling* do have a common thread - I've been a bit ill - again. I had post-herpetic-neuralgia - the after-effects of the last lot of shingles when the skin from my neck to my waist felt like someone was constantly pouring acid over it, and the nerve endings in my spine and ribs became inflamed in sympathy and HURT non-stop - and believe me you DO NOT want it. Never, ever... As I spent most of April high as a kite on mega-death-strength prescription pain killers and was unable to sit or lay down or wear any clothes from the waist up (not an attractive sight - and no, I didn't go outside) and slept (ho-ho-ho!) fitfully by standing up and draping myself over a dining room chair, the only thing I could do to take my mind off the crappy stuff was to spend the enforced waking hours by messing around with Kindle. So I did...

It hasn't been all bad though. Last weekend, because I was feeling better, we all went to Jersey for Easter. We being me and The Toyboy Trucker and Elle and The Doctor. And a jolly bunch we were too. Well, TTT and The Doctor were fine, but I was still zonked on medication and hurt quite a bit, and Elle hasn't had the best of pregnancies so far - so the girlie half of the party waddled and limped and grizzled - but we also sat in the glorious scorching sun by the sea and people-watched and ate loads (sadly neither of us are allowed alcohol so it was slightly less lively than it might have been) AND we met up with Debs and her lovely husband and the fabulous Grumpy for lunch AND huge milkshakes - which was brilliant. Thanks Debs - we LOVED it!

And now post-Royal Wedding (I thought it was fabulous.... sigh...) and all those millions of bank holidays I'm going back to work... Which hopefully means that as well as *Kindling* I really will answer emails and catch up with FaceBook and maybe even crack on with Only Make Believe. Of course the garden looks like a jungle and the house is akin to a midden - but they can wait - can't they????

Endings and Beginnings

Oh joy! Never Can Say Goodbye is done! And I mean REALLY done. Edits and all. I've written another book!!! It's always like a miracle to me when that happens because I'm never sure how it actually turns from mad stuff in my head to 400 pages of comparative sense on the computer. And of course it means I can now look at the blurb for NCSG on Amazon and not panic. I always panic when the blurb gets there before I've finished writing the book somehow. It seems sort of scary. Like tempting fate. Although sometimes when the blurb is there really early, I've actually changed the book to suit the blurb, but not this time. This time - phew - it's okay.

Never Can Say Goodbye was one of those books that (once I'd started it - and yes, I faffed around with starting it for ages because I wasn't sure that funny ghosts were exactly what anyone was looking for) just seemed to fall into place (oh, I so wish they were all like that) and didn't give me any real problems. Once I got going it just seemed to work. And for that reason I love it. Mwah!

Now all I have to do is start the next one - which is okay because I actually have an idea... Well, actually I've already started writing it. In fact I started writing it the day I finished NCSG. It's called (at the moment) Only Make Believe. Now it's all getting a bit weird because I'm starting to sound like one of those cocksure writers who knows what they're doing. And I don't. I'm just on a bit of a high. Usually when I've finished writing a book I just slink off somewhere and slump and know I'll never, ever be able to do it again. But this time it's all very different. Oh, the joy of books like NCSG and Hub Bub and Going the Distance and Moonshine that just - well - happen and give me a nice big whoomph of much-needed writerly confidence.

So that's the endings bit of this post's subject line - and a bit of the beginnings. The other bit of the beginnings (and much, much more exciting and amazing) is because I'm going to be a grandmother.

Elle and The Doctor are expecting their first baby on September 1st.

Of course, as The Toyboy Trucker said, we're far too young to be grandparents, which is sweet of him, but to be honest here on the estate, if you're not a Nan and Gramps in your 40s you're considered pretty weird.

To say we're ecstatic would be a major understatement. But I promise here and now that - unlike the wedding - I won't gush a lot and give boring (to everyone else) minute details of the pregnancy. Will just say that poor Elle is currently having a pretty rough time with morning sickness 24/7 but we're all hoping this will soon be at an end. Especially The Doctor who is having the full-on joyous experience. We've seen the scan, complete with little hands and feet - incredible - and although it looks more like a tabby kitten than a baby I'm sure it'll be fine when the whole process is complete. They are determined not to find out the sex, so I'm currently knitting a layette in a nice non-discriminatory mustard...

Now I can saunter off and answer emails (sorry!) and catch up with FaceBook (sorry!) and decide whether I want to be a glamorous granny, or a mad boho writing granny, or a nice cosy granny in aprons and slippers like I had... And shall I be Nan or Gran or Granny or Grandma????

Decisions, decisions...

Jill Mansell Won The Jelly-Wrestling!

As Jill had promised publicly on Facebook that we would be bikini-clad and wrestle in jelly for the Rom Com Prize at yesterday's RNA Pure Passion Awards I'm delighted to say that she won it by a country mile and therefore there was no need for me to display my acres of wobbliness while rolling around in strawberry goo...

I was absolutely chuffed to bits that Jill won - because she's a great mate, a brilliant writer, and I love her. There was no flouncing or tantrums from me - I was just thrilled to ribbons to have been short-listed and to have been part of such a glitzy and auspicious occasion. I met so many friends, and made some new ones, and everyone looked fabulously glam. I loved every minute of it.

Congratulations to all the other award winners too, and while there was (in my opinion but then I'm a bit of a gannet) too little food (and that's pretty shocking considering my lovely publishers had generously taken me to lunch at Michel Roux's Brasserie - a mind-blowing gastronomical experience - BEFORE the Awards Ceremony), there was certainly more than enough champagne as can be seen from the - er - slight squiffiness in the pic (courtesy of Liz Fenwick)... This is me and Broo, my amazing and lovely agent, after our umpteenth glass...

A short blog post today because I'm still supposed to be working offline and trying to meet the Never Can Say Goodbye deadline (it WILL be done by next Monday!) - but I just wanted to say how thrilled and excited I was to have been shortlisted, and what a truly fabulous time I had. My heartfelt thanks to all concerned.

Ooooh,right - now back to reality. Big, big, big sigh....

TWTAWH Shortlisted for Pure Passion Rom Com Of The Year Award

Okay, now I'm not even sure I believe that heading. Still pinching myself, actually. Being longlisted was a dream come true - this is off the scale. Am so thrilled and excited I'm in real danger of becoming a bit of a drama queen/diva. Have skipped and whooped and beamed irritatingly at everyone since I heard the news. Well, WOW is all I can say...

Had an amazing day yesterday at the glam and glitzy Champagne Breakfast press launch announcement thingy (see how good I am with words?) - bubbles at 10 a.m. - how decadent is that??? In a swish club in Piccadilly no less. Oh, I loved it! Once the short-lists were officially announced, all the short-listed authors were photographed and filmed - we had to do one-to-one sound bite filmy snippets while smiling and holding our book and saying who we were, what the book was called, how we felt on being shortlisted and what the book was about. Simple, yes? No! Amazing how a man with a video camera can make you forget even the smallest, most familiar fact. I'm sure I wasn't the only person who couldn't remember their name. Or maybe I was...?

My face ached from smiling, my stomach ached from all that holding-in, and my head ached from far too much champagne far too early in the day - but it was WONDERFUL!

The awards ceremony is on March 7th - and this is where all the giddy excitement will end because I'm a realist and to be longlisted was amazing, to be shortlisted is the greatest thing to happen to me in my Bucolic Frolic career - but also shortlisted for the Rom Com Award are Jill Mansell and Sophie Kinsella. Yep - Rom Com Royalty. I'm just dead chuffed to even be on the same list - but let's be honest - it's like pitting non-league Crawley against Man U in the FA Cup, a moment of reflected glory to be savoured for ever, an event to enjoy without any unrealistic expectations. But I'm a feisty lass, so bring it on is all I can say.

Keep reading through previous blog posts when I was battling my way through writing TWTAWH (all that snarling about the title being changed and everything) and wish that I'd known then what I know now. It would have made writing it a whole lot easier if someone had given me a crystal ball...

Anyway, today I'm still floating around, beaming and annoying everyone - tomorrow my inner-editor will take over and tell me to get a shift on with Never Can Say Goodbye - but not today. Today is a day for flaunting and preening and stamping my silken slippers and tossing back my ringlets and declaring to anyone who is unfortunate enough to hear me "don't you know who I am?". Yeah, okay - I've tried it with milkman and the paperboy so far and they just gave me a scared look and hurried away - but I live in hope.

Shortlisted? Me? Blimey!

Publication Day!

I'm briefly breaking cover from my extended (thank you!) deadline to share a little bit of cyber champagne and a HUGE whoopee of joy - because today THE WAY TO A WOMAN'S HEART is published in paperback which means it's available in the shops!!!!

There were times (as always) when I thought TWTAWH would never be a real book - but it is - and I've just seen it, several of it actually - face out!!!! - in our local W H Smith. I do love the cover - perfect for Valentine's Day. Of course I was still too timid to tell them I wrote it, but I did lurk around the shelves and smile a lot...

So - another publication day has arrived. It's been very low-key, but it's the 19th since 1997. Crikey - did I really do all that WORK?????

Still, no time to celebrate at the moment - NEVER CAN SAY GOODBYE has to be delivered in two weeks. So - as I slink off back to Francesca's Fabulous Frocks - and Frankie and Dexter and Brian from the kebab van and Maisie the useless medium - here's to publication day number 20...

Not Quite How I'd Planned It...

No, well, I'd intended to post this on New Year's Day (so that the date could be 1/1/11) and wish everyone in Blogland a Happy New Year and be full of festive cheer...

But, being me, things didn't go quite to plan, hence my new year greeting being almost a week late... New Year saw me and The Toyboy Trucker snuffling our way between various surgeries and pharmacies - him to get antibiotics for the chest infection left by The Christmas Cold; me to get antibiotics for the sinus infection left by The Christmas Cold; both of us to the vet's with Alexia who had chronic enteritis over Christmas and needed a daily antibiotic injection...

Oh, what a jolly little trio we were!

And, add to that, the fact that 1) I managed to break two teeth on a cashew nut and 2) I dislocated my knee by balancing on a stool on top of a cushion on top of the sofa (no, not a new party trick) to try to remove a loose garland dangling irritatingly from a corner of the ceiling and then tumbling off in a fat and flustered heap...

So, now we're coughing and sniffing and limping and lisping-and-dribbling and feeling damn miserable. Alexia, on the other hand, is fully recovered and can't understand what all the fuss was about.

Now I have a little over three weeks to finish Never Can Say Goodbye, so am disappearing into the deep, dark, hellish deadline cave for a while - but belatedly - Happy New Year!

Romantic Novel of The Year Award - ooh and Happy Christmas!

I've just had the best early Christmas present ever - the news that The Way To A Woman's Heart has been long-listed for the prestigious Romantic Novel of The Year Award. Stunned? I'm speechless. The short-list will be announced in February and I'm pretty certain TWTAWH won't be on it (believe me, there are some really big-hitters on that long-list) BUT just to be nominated is absolutely amazing. I've just skimmed back over the blog posts I wrote while - um - crafting TWTAWH and have decided that, with hindsight and a completed book, all that - um - crafting was well worth it in the long run...

We've had a weird few weeks - it's all been a bit Hotel Babylon here with our usual influx of pre-festive visitors - and some lovely but disruptive winter weather. One lot of visitors, due to arrive at Southampton airport at 9 a.m. eventually, after several re-routes, ended up at Gatwick at midnight. The Toyboy Trucker who was collecting them spent a hairy day and night battling through snow, ice and freezing fog as he hopefully toured the UK's airports. The restaurant get-together was eventually cancelled at about 11 p.m and we all had weary fish and chips in the early hours and minus 10 degree temperatures.

And sadly, my lovely brave one-eyed Maddy cat died suddenly. We were devastated. She'd done so well and had such a happy and lively few months since her operation and had loved being a Diva Cat and spoiled rotten. Her death was as peaceful and gentle as her life - she hadn't shown any signs of being ill at all, and had curled up after her supper on her blanket under her favourite radiator and simply went to sleep. We found her the next morning looking as though she was still sleeping. A fantastic end for her - sheer, total, heartbreaking hell for us. RIP my Mad-Mad Maddy - I'll always love and miss you.

So - two days before Christmas, we're still up to our fetlocks in snow here, it looks gorgeously Winter Wonderland outside, The Toyboy Trucker will be home on Christmas Eve, I've packed all the Christmas stockings, and have stopped writing Never Can Say Goodbye until after the festivities. With the other residents of the terrace and Elle and The Doctor we're looking forward to a very happy Christmas and an awful lot of peace on earth.

So, Happy Christmas to all Bucolic Frolickers - thank you so much for all your support and brilliant friendship - and I hope you all have the Christmas you've dreamed of.

See you next year!

Rambling

That's rambling as in dazed and confused mental meandering - not as in a hearty stride-out across the autumnal countryside - just in case you thought I'd suddenly turned into Ramblers' Champion, Janet "I'm a pensioner you know" Street-Porter.

Anyway I'm rambling for two reasons really: one, because I've had a touch of The Thing That's Going Around and still feel a bit muzzy and need to think about something other than my next dose of Lemsip, and two, because I've reached that stage in writing Never Can Say Goodbye where my finger keeps hovering over the "delete the whole damn lot and start again" button and need to be kept away from my 60,000 words plus until the moment has passed...

So - a few things that have amused me recently (and all in the name of research - just in case Broo is reading this)...

Last week, while shuffling across the estate to our local version of Big Sava via one of the rather pretty little lanes overhung with gloriously tinted trees I watched a very tiny and very elderly man tiptoeing beneath said trees, sprinkling something from a small bag. I smiled to myself at this vision of age-old rural tradition. Bless him, dressed in baggy brown cords and an even baggier beige jumper, he was one of those gentle pink and white marshmallowy old chaps, with pale blue eyes and the sort of stand-up fly-away wispy hair that babies have. He beamed as I approached and offered me the bag with a cheery "Do you like licorice, my dear? Would you like some?" Now, I do like licorice - come on, it's sweet, I like it - but I also remembered my mum's warning of not taking sweets from strangers, so I declined. "That'll mean even more for the squirrels then, my dear," he said, pale blue eyes twinkling kindly. "Oh," I said, even more touched at this demonstration of caring-for-nature, "do squirrels like licorice, then?" The rheumy blue eyes hardened as he cackled, "nah. They hates it. And I hates them. Gives 'em the squits big time -nasty little bastards."

And I've been to aqua aerobics. Once. I shan't be going back. Not to mince words here, we - the participants - were lumpen girls, clad in our uniform sturdy M&S black all-in-one-with-tummy-control-panel swimsuits. We stood self-consciously, chest deep, in neat rows in the aquamarine water, trying not to pass out from the heat and chlorine fumes, waiting for Sasha-Marie, the instructor. Beyonce boomed from the sound-system. Several of us cautiously limbered up a bit under water in an attempt to burn more calories or not fall over or both. Then Sasha-Marie, in pink leggings and a vermilion T-shirt, trundled in and stood on the pool edge in front of us. Yes, trundled. Sasha-Marie was h-u-g-e. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm kind of picky about my exercise regime (translate that as I don't have one but if I did I'd want some sort of proof that it worked), and I refuse to be pc here. Sasha-Marie wasn't pleasantly plump or cuddly - she was massive. We looked like collective Kate Mosses by comparison. With no apparent trace of irony, Sasha-Marie clapped her chubby hands and shouted "Right, girls, let's see if we can get rid of some of that porkiness in time for Christmas, shall we?". Five minutes into marching on the spot underwater and clapping our hands above our head at the same time (something I found a little bit tricky because I'm not particularly co-ordinated), we were getting into the swim (see what I did there?) quite nicely, but Sasha-Marie was still fully dressed and on dry land and puffing and panting and turning puce. Another ten minutes and were were slapping our hands together under our knees in time to Cheryl Cole. Sasha-Marie was sitting on a stool and gasping out her instructions in wheezy staccato bursts. By the time the half hour was up, we - looking like the hippo ballerinas in Fantasia - were twirling and kicking and splashing our hands happily on the surface of the pool along with Kylie. Sasha-Marie had been taken outside by the lifeguard. And when I got home I weighed 2lbs more than when I started. Aqua aerobics is not for me...

And note to self: when you're next having your hair coloured by someone who trained at A Big London Salon DO NOT say cheerfully "oh, just slap a few tabby stripes in as usual". Colourists from Big London Salons don't slap or do tabby or stripes. They do nuances and hints, and tones and tints, and shades and shimmers, and slivers and slices, and glints and glimmers, and hi-lights and lo-lights, and can have Very Bad Tempers.

We have an Old People's Day Centre on the other side of the green. The Toyboy Trucker thinks this is very handy as he reckons I'll be needing it before too long and being so close it won't be too tricky to find me if I wander off. For years we've been used to seeing bus-loads of Seniors (as our council insists we call them) being shunted off to watch the traffic congestion on the A34 or the fights in the entrance to Poundland. However, because the council (like councils everywhere) are having to make swingeing budget cuts, the bus has had to go. Now the Seniors are shepherded together in little groups with a minder to participate in activities on the green. The Teddy Bears' Picnic was a great success. Not so the litter-picking. Well, you give a lot of disgruntled pensioners-with-attitude pointy sticks and a plastic bag and you're asking for trouble, in my opinion. By the end they had more paramedics in attendance than there were at our wedding reception (another story for another blog post - maybe). This week they've borrowed someone from our FE college to teach them Tai Chi. On the green. In the wind and rain. I'm sorry, but I laughed. Thirty or so cold and wet Seniors, in a collection of puffa jackets, anoraks, hats, scarves and zip-up bootees striking poses (and each other) was like one of the more surreal episodes of Monty Python. Oh, and another thing - when I walked past the day centre yesterday they were having a sing-song. Merry melodies from their youth. Tunes from the War Years. Roll Out the Barrel and It's a Long Way to Tipperary et al. But surely, most of today's Seniors were yesterday's hippies and rock-children? Shouldn't they be boogieing along to the Stones and Led Zep?

Oh, goody - now it's time for my next Lempsip. And when I've had that, I might just have a look at the "delete the whole damn lot and start again" button...

Rebecca In The Scout Hut

It was much as expected. A full house (we don't get much in the way of entertainment on the estate since Fiery Dave and his souped-up wheel-spinning Subaru moved, thanks to the petition and umpteen Asbos, to East Kilbride), uncomfortable chairs pinched from the Mixed Infants, intermittent lighting, and a biting wind through the window that never got mended after the Brownies had a bit of a fracas during last Easter's performance of Riverdance. Still, we were all there, in the scout hut, more in hope than expectation (as always) and we weren't disappointed.

The am-drammers had copped out (in my opinion) on the settings and used the backdrops from last year's panto (Jack and the Beanstalk). Therefore, Manderley (interior and exterior) was the giant's castle, the South of France was the market square minus The Village Children but sadly still plus the painted-on cow, and the Gothic atmosphere (such as it was) was provided by the lights being turned on and off very quickly backstage. Well, until the moment they all fused, then - until they were fixed - it was down to three people with torches aided by several rows of the audience who, remembering that ill-fated coach trip to see Barry Manilow at Blenheim Palace, held their lighters aloft.

Avis from the Co-op was The Second Mrs de Winter. As Avis is 53 and - given her build and incipient moustache - had been the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk, she wasn't that convincing as a frail and nervous child-bride, but her twin-set and tweed skirt were lovely. It was slightly disturbing that Maxim was played by Larry the postman. Now, there's nothing wrong with Larry and he can act his socks off when he puts his mind to it, but Avis is his mum - so you see the problem. We all tried to suspend disbelief and any squeamishness, but it tested even the most ardent theatre-goer at times.

The am-drammers are a small group, therefore there was the usual doubling-up of roles. Mrs Danvers (played with terrifying authenticity by the vicar's wife, leading us to discuss in the intermission - egg sandwiches with concrete crusts and polystyrene beakers of tepid tea - just exactly what home-life was like in the vicarage) was also Bee and, after lots of muttering and rustling and quick-changes of jacket/hat/beard in the wings, Sid Newman from the garden centre became Jack Favell,Frank Crawley, Frith and Giles. Any scenes that involved more than one of these characters were relegated to off-stage conversations aided and abetted by Gorgeous George (a nickname given with full rustic irony) from the garage who was the narrator. A narrator, we all felt, was essential, given the gaping gaps in the script.

Jasper (Avis's elderly Jack Russell was substituted for the springer spaniel of the original) made several impromptu appearances. Usually when he wasn't required. And eventually he went to sleep in the middle of the stage, snoring loudly, and no-one could shift him so everyone just stepped round him. Except Avis during one of her most wither-wringing scenes when she tripped over him and uttered a line of such eye-watering profanity that Dame Daphne must have groaned in her grave.

We were all, it must be said, really waiting for the burning of Manderley. It was well worth the wait. As we held our collective breath in a frenzy of anticipation, noises-off provided, by way of Gorgeous George rustling aluminium foil and blowing-across-the-tops-of-bottles (we could see this operation taking place so it did somewhat dilute the artistic tension), a lot of crackling and roaring, followed by the smoke machine, which was fairly impressive. I say only fairly as unfortunately the copious billows of thick grey vapour were caught in the draught from the Brownies broken window and rolled, like a Victorian pea-souper, away from Manderley/Giant's Castle and the stage generally and wafted across the audience. As the first four rows disappeared in the murk, everyone nostalgically agreed that it was just like being in the snug of the Weasel and Bucket before the smoking ban. Happy days!

Once the fog had cleared and someone had woken Jasper, and the vicar's wife (aka Mrs Danvers at that point) had stopped screaming, the am-drammers took their bows and got three curtain-calls (there weren't any curtains but you get the idea). Then we all tidied our chairs and beakers away, and as we filed outside into night the general consensus was that Rebecca in the Scout Hut had been a resounding success.

Their next production will be the Christmas panto of course (Goldilocks this year - we're all assuming Avis will be taking the title role and stretching the imagination even further and that possibly all three bears will be played by Larry) and then, frighteningly, they're going to be tackling Ben Hur.

I will be reviewing it here. Maybe...

Bugger - I Didn't Win The Booker...

Well, not that I expected to of course, not being short-listed or even long-listed or even in contention at any stage or anything because I'm not even a smidgen literary. However, I was very chuffed when one of those intense and scary-looking telly arts' commentators said that this year's winner - Howard Jacobson's The Finkler Question - was a comic novel and indicated a move away from serious to humorous, from high-brow to middle-brow. Oooh, I thought - one more brow down and there's hope for me and the rest of the Rom-Commers yet. But, sadly, it seems not...

Now, I haven't read The Finkler Question (I've never read anything either long or short listed for the Booker because I'm a pleb), but the little bit I heard being read out last night didn't make me chortle. I actually didn't really understand it... which means, I suppose, that it must be really, really good. And Howard Jacobson showed a great sense of fun (I thought) when he said he'd spend the £50,000 (gulp) prize money on a handbag for his wife with a wry "have you seen the price of handbags?".

However, while I was having a little happy moment about The Man Booker sliding ever so slowly towards people of my limited brain-power, Andrew Motion (chair of judges) sodded it up by describing The Finkler Question as "laugh-out-loud funny but so nearly adjacent to tragedy" and "very sad, melancholic, laughter in the dark..." and then Mr Jacobson himself compounded my deepest fears by saying his novel wasn't "easy-peasy and middle-brow because it's comic. It's much cleverer and more complicated and about much more difficult things..."

Ah, well - many congrats to Howard Jacobson - but I have a feeling that Brian from the kebab van and Maisie the Useless Medium won't be troubling the Booker judges for a while yet...

And - while on the subject of literary fiction - I listened to the first ever Radio 2 Book Club reviews on Monday evening. This time the book chosen was Mr Chartwell - a first-time novel about depression and Winston Churchill and a widowed librarian set over 5 days in the summer of 1964. Mr Chartwell - who has a massive viewpoint role apparently (haven't read this one either because I'm a pleb) - is a giant black dog (black dog equalling depression which is the theme of the novel)... Ooooh, I thought, how many times have I been told that having an animal narrator is a huge no-no - things must be soooo different in Lit Fic Land. The author sounded very young and very happy and has been given a very pleasing advance - which is wonderful for her - but several reviewers said while they loved her descriptions they couldn't understand some of her complex sentences and had to re-read them several times to get the gist... Now, in Commercial Fiction Land that would earn you a sharp editorial rap on the knuckles and a severe editing session...

Oh, well - it's back to the keyboard and baby-easy sentences and Brian from the kebab van and words of one syllable for me...

Oh - and while out yesterday, I saw this notice in the window of The Eight 'til Late:
"Fitzharry's Am Dram Society proudly present Rebbecca by Daphne Du Maurier, unabridged, for three nights, in the Scout Hut".

The burning of Manderley???? The scenes in the south of France??? The costume ball??? Rebecca's boat on stormy seas???? In the Scout Hut?????

I've bought tickets.