Managed to do a few words (about 500) to The Bones of Summer today - which was something of a breakthrough as I've not done anything to it for a fortnight and I was dreading getting started again. Mind you, I feel Craig and I are still on slightly dodgy ground as we attempt to get to know each other again. Yes, don't laugh - it is like that if you leave a novel for a while. Even two weeks. Like seeing an old friend you used to know quite well but you wonder if you have anything in common now. It's been made rather worse, I fear, by the fact that I left Craig in the middle of a sex scene - bloody hell, does the poor guy do nothing else in this ruddy novel?? - and I've now suddenly opened the door after a fortnight of ignoring him and he's giving me distinctly unfriendly stares. I suspect he ran out of his repertoire of moves by the 2nd day and has been winging it ever since ...
Anyway, we've tiptoed round each other for a few paragraphs and I think we might be speaking again. Just. At the very least, I've got him back in his clothes (well, almost ...) and now we're having a bit of plot. Hurrah! Perhaps when I go back tomorrow, or possibly for a nightcap later on, he might well be a bit friendlier. We'll see.
I have also been superbly brave (pause for cheers! Thank you, thank you ...) and rung the bookshop (Bookboyz in Farnborough) where Jennifer from Goldenford and I are having our book signing on Saturday 24 November. I do so hate ringing bookshops as, when they find out I'm (a) not important and (b) desperate, they can be so condescending. However, I must say that Carl of Bookboyz was super-sweet on the phone and even seemed to think I might be a real person. Which was nice. Anyway we'll be there somewhere between 11am and 1.30pm, so I hope someone turns up and we're not too lonely. I have sent an email to all my friends (okay, that didn't take that long, but I thought it would be a nice sentence to write ...), who even now are packing their bags to be sure to be away that weekend. At least they are if the Curse of Goldenford maintains its mystical strength.
Went out with Robin for lunch today - lovely to catch up with her news, though I think the pub we usually go to has gone strangely upmarket and we may well have to find another. When I walked in with my fleece, woolly hat and fingerless gloves (eeh by gum, it's chilly in the south), there was a distinct frosting of the atmosphere. As well as the temperature. Much like poor Craig's reaction to me really, so at least I'm used to it by now.
On the way back, I popped into see Gladys, who was bright if confused. And having trouble with her radiators, which are at least on. Mind you, as she has a boiler system for which you need an NVQ Level 5 simply in order to switch on, that isn't entirely surprising.
Tonight, I am chilling in front of the TV and catching up with things I've missed during the week. And, as I say, I might have a goodnight cocoa with my rather twitchy protagonist, but we'll see. I've also just given up entirely on Oliver James' They F*** You Up: How to Survive Family Life. It started off interestingly enough but soon lost pace and started wallowing in its own pseudo-seriousness. I got irritated when I couldn't fit into any of the categories - then thought better of it and was, frankly, bloody glad I didn't. It's utter rot, Carruthers. As they say. My advice is: if you don't get on with your family, don't buy the book; just don't visit the family. Much the cheaper option.
Today's nice things:
1. Slowly starting back on Bones
2. Lunch with Robin
3. Managing a bookshop phonecall without ending up a gibbering, insecure wreck - a miracle really!
but surely if you have had enough of Craig's sex life, as the author you can do something about it...
perhaps I can help you
*grabs Annes keyboard*
Craig turns to his partner. His mouth goes dry. Dryer than the Sahra. He's got a urge that no-one can fill. He hope his partnet can understand.
'Listen', he says in a very nervious way.
'I love our sex, its just'.
He looks away, not knowing if he can or should continue. But he must. For his own sake.
'Tomorrow, can we leave the sex alone? There is a TV programme I want to watch. It's all about Giraffes. Hope you don't mind?'
Fab! That's definitely going in - I utterly love it!!! Time for you to write your own book for sure, Peter!!!
Mind you, I did laugh at that bit about the author having some sort of power - as if, tee hee!!
Love to write my own book Anne but haven't got the talent like you have
Aha, m'dear - you're too late! You're already a writer - just look at your blog!
Yeah but my blog isn't jane Eyre is it.
And a good thing too - much though I love JE, we don't want another one!
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