A Master Class

I finished the edit, and now feel much better about the comma content of my manuscript. Phew!

It’s time to move forward, and concentrate completely on my WIP. I’ve promised myself, I will no longer keep going back and forth between the new work and -- I don’t even like to say it -- the old.

I wonder how experienced and prolific authors such as Amélie Nothomb, who wrote the best book I read in 2007, handle such transitions? (She writes three novels a year, publishing only one.)

Perhaps she tells us in this interview for Spanish TV. But I didn’t quite catch it. Perhaps when she draws in marker pen on a plastic globe, she is explaining by using a diagram. Perhaps the word Bangladesh is code for “move forward".  

Let’s see:

Purging the Comma

I’m busy with yet another edit of the novel I’m submitting to agents.

I found writing the pitch and synopsis so difficult, such a test of endurance; I was astonished to receive two requests for sample chapters. My letter and synopsis had worked! I couldn’t believe it; I was high as a kite! 

But several weeks later, I had been kindly rejected by both.
Uh, oh…

So I went back to the manuscript. Some agents might not like the style, the voice, or the story. But if they do, it must be as perfect as humanly possible, which meant… I needed to address, what seemed to me, a sometimes-funky use of the comma.

The comma is the punctuation mark with which I struggle. Whenever I’m unsure about whether or not a comma is necessary, I remember an episode from childhood. I panic, becoming incapable of making a confident decision, because I have post-traumatic comma disorder (PTCD).

For a whole terrifying year, a very stern and scary teacher shrieked at me because of my use of the comma: “NEVER, EVER! USE A COMMA BEFORE THE WORD, AND.”
(I sneaked one into that quote as an act of defiance.)

Clearly he was wrong.

But still, I lack confidence in using the comma.

Kevin Spacey agrees with me!

I have a sister who loves reality TV. I don’t. I find it depressing and downright boring. I really would prefer to watch paint dry.

Reality TV is a subject on which my sister and I will always clash. Therefore, since our last bust-up over How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria? it’s a subject we’ve agreed to avoid.

She’s an aficionado (and I sort-of respect her for that). Reality TV is her preferred viewing. She watches X Factor, Pop Idol, Wife Swap, Celebrity Love Island, I’d Do Anything, and countless shows I’ve never heard of.

She involves herself with a passion; agreeing or not with Simon Cowell, hating Sharon Osborne, defending this or that contestant, shocked at what a certain family feeds their children, appalled at whom Sir Alan Sugar did or did not hire as his new Apprentice.

And she believes it is real.

Our fall-out over ‘Maria’ occurred after I read an article when the show first aired, which happened to mention the writers. My sister would not accept it was even partly scripted. Nor would she accept that the TV portrayal of the process is not how auditions take place in the real world, and that her enthusiasm to see the winner perform in Andrew Lloyd Webber's West End production of The Sound of Music, was really the whole point of the show; the reality, in this case, of reality TV.

So I was pleased when Kevin Spacey, actor and artistic director of the Old Vic, said this: "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria? was a 13-week promotion for a musical, on a public-service broadcaster. I thought that was crossing the line."

Here, here!!


But then I read something on Meg Cabot’s blog:

… one third of people aged 100 or older watch reality television. One quarter of them watch MTV or music videos, and some even surf the web and use an iPod.

Curl up on the couch. Watching reality TV is the key to long life!

How many emails will an inbox hold before it finally explodes?

Answer: 473,922.1


APRIL FOOL!

But seriously, my desktop email client, Mac Mail, has 1,052 unread emails in the inbox and 2,221 in the junk folder.

Including those in the inbox I’ve opened and read, but not deleted, I guess the grand total would be (gulp…) 8,000!

Time to start spring-cleaning…

(Apologies for the nostalgic image; my very first Mac was an iMac, shaped just like that.)

The Top 10 Bunnies in Film

This email from my DVD rental service arrived this morning. 


Easter has arrived! Which means it’s time to sit on the sofa, stuff your face full of chocolate and enjoy some much deserved time off work. Worried about gorging ourselves on too many sugary treats, this week we celebrate the coming of spring and all things Easter with our top 10 bunnies in film list. Ok, we’ll stop rabbiting on now… Read more

I laughed out loud. I love bunny rabbits! And what a great idea for a list; I love lists!

But hang-on, the good people at LOVEFiLM are promoting Easter movies -- five days after Easter!

I shook my head, laughed again, and then clicked on the “Read more” link. Shock and horror: I had been mis-lead! They’ve included HARES alongside rabbits!!! Are there not enough talented bunnies to make the list? Unbelievable!

My heart pounded as I scrolled down the page. On reaching the bottom, I sighed with relief; all ten places ARE occupied by rabbits. Phew!

But it left me thinking, I’d like to see a lot more roles for rabbits. ;)

A (Secret) Crush and Newborn Lambs

For a couple of years, I’ve had a huge crush I have not mentioned to anyone. My reason for secrecy was threefold: he’s an older man, a married man, and his dress-sense is slightly dated. But push those things aside (quickly!) and he embodies all I admire.

He’s intelligent, creative, and driven. He has soul. He draws and makes things out of wood. He writes wonderful short fiction and wonderful epics. His name is Philip Pullman.

And whenever I read one of his interviews, I feel enriched. Sigh...


(The Firework-Maker's Daughter, and Clockwork, or All Wound Up are two of my all-time favourite novels.)

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En-route to the Lake District for Easter weekend, I drove through Caldbeck Common -- where the ponies grow thick, winter coats.

Driving home on Tuesday, I jumped out of the car to snap the cutest newborn lambs… I’ve seen in all my life!!!

Click on the photos for bigger and better views!

Happiness, Sadness, and Something In-Between

:-)

I love good news. And good news about a brilliant book by a fabulous writer is double (or even triple) good news! Which means it must be GREAT news! What, what, what? Well, I’m delighted that Patricia Wood’s wonderful debut novel, LOTTERY, is a contender for the 2008 Orange Prize for Fiction!

And, because I’m having no luck winning the UK’s National Lottery (though I live in hope), I’ll trot along to the bookie’s and bet on LOTTERY winning the Orange Prize!

:-/ 

I adore characterful property. And the gypsy blood that runs through my veins means I’m always thinking of moving. In fact, I was supposed  to be moving next week. To this apartment:

But my buyer backed down two days before exchange of contracts, so I was forced to pull out of the purchase. This is exactly what happened when I tried to move last October. So, I’ve had two potential buyers pull out, you guessed it, two days before exchange of contracts. And on both occasions, I was trying to move to an apartment!!

This must be a sign that my next move should be… NOT to an apartment, but towards my dream of living in the country.

:-(
The untimely death of writer and director Anthony Minghella is incredibly sad news; “… absolutely ghastly” is how Juliet Stevenson describes it in her warm and insightful tribute.

I re-watched Truly, Madly, Deeply only last week, as part of my research on ghosts.

Until Further Notice…

I’m taking a break from blogging.

Whether this is temporary or permanent, I don’t yet know.

Thank you to everyone who read this blog. And thank you to everyone who left a comment.

But... I might be back before too long! ☺ 

Cartoon Dreams

Last night I found myself plugged in to Pixar Studios' dream machine. (That must be what it was!) First, I dreamt that my 13-year-old second cousin was a 7-year-old, world-famous gymnast. She had bobbed black hair, Chinese eyes, white skin, and wore a red leotard. She travelled alone, performing her non-stop-back-flip to huge crowds around the globe. Then I dreamt that my Mum’s tiny soft-toy dog, Bobby, was running to my house to deliver a present. But in the dream, his name was Robby!

I think the key to the dream machine is Tesco’s Moroccan-style hummus. It’s so moreish! I ate the whole tub before going to bed.

Today, I’ve felt quite nauseous.

Research

My current WIP is a contemporary novel with an historical element, which means lots and lots of research! Some research, or a lot of research would probably be enough, but I seem to be doing masses and masses! I’m drowning in books and printouts -- some still unread.

Perhaps I have a geeky academic or collecting urge that lay dormant until now. Perhaps I don’t want to miss an amazing piece of information I don’t know exists -- but won’t find if I stop looking! Perhaps I’m just really enjoying wearing my glasses and ploughing through tons of material. (It’s great!)

I’m so bitten by the bug that, on Wednesday, I attended an auction of antiquarian books and bid on lot 64. I could not honestly say it was vital to my research, yet I felt compelled to have it. And a valuable item can always be sold on, hopefully at a profit.

The auction was well attended. The guide price for lot 64: £50 to £80. I imagined no one else would want it, and I’d probably go home with a bargain. Two others were bidding before I stuck up my hand.

“The lady’s in,” said the auctioneer.

An uncomfortable spotlight moment; he wasn’t commenting on the other bidders!

“£130, the lady … The lady’s still in at £180 … £210 … The lady’s out ... £220 to Jarvis!”

At those prices, what on earth was I doing? Well, Jarvis was determined to beat “the lady”. Whatever lot 64 meant to me, it was more valuable to him. But no way will he make a profit! :)

And Moving Means… Shopping!

After last week’s roller-coaster ride on the local property market, I took off on Friday evening to celebrate with a friend who lives fifty miles away. It’s an easy drive from west to east. And I always imagine the road as a straight line, even though, in fact, it isn’t. But never mind…

On Saturday we toured furniture and department stores. Daisy, my eleven-year-old protagonist, kept popping up with her thoughts and opinions, but was polite enough not to comment out loud. (Her manners are definitely improving!) However, she did drag me into a couple of clothes shops and surprise me with her choices. She has an eye when it comes to creating a look; though she wants you to know, she’s not massively interested in fashion.

Together, my friend and I quickly developed a scheme for the new apartment. Before driving home on Saturday night, I broke the news that, after totting up our selection, I couldn’t afford the Ligne Roset sofas -- just yet!

She looked straight at me. “And the silk curtains for your bedroom?”

“Don’t worry; they are my TOP priority.”

“Thank heavens,” she said.

“Phew!” Daisy sighed.

This girl has exceptional taste!

Yes, I'm Moving

I made a decision on the apartment. The deal is done, and, if all goes according to plan, I will be moving in 8 to 10 weeks!!!


No more endless cleaning!
No more gardening!
No more parking problems!
No more music blaring through the party walls! (I hope.)


I could not be happier. I feel light as a newborn lamb.













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In writing news...

The main character in my WIP is an eleven-year-old girl named Daisy. This is the youngest MC I’ve written. And the problem is … she’s spilling over into everyday life. I’m thinking like an eleven-year-old, even in grown-up situations! (Daisy likes the new apartment, very much.)

Time to create some boundaries!