Whisky and words

Have been feeling like I've been drained of all energy today (query: is it Torchwood's revenge?) and am hovering delicately on the edge of a cold. Hell, and the year had been going so well - up until yesterday, that is. I decided last night to drown my sorrows in whisky (and consequently have thrown my new alcohol-lite regime into the roadside bushes with merry abandon). This helped a surprising amount - which just goes to show that the Scots are right after all. Och aye, the noo (or similar). As a result, I wrote a poem about it which - equally astonishingly - is longer than my customary three lines. Here it is:

Whisky song

Sometimes alcohol is the only way:
when you’re hunting the wild dogs,
or being hunted by them,
or when the blue day
you were stepping into
turns black
after all
and just when you thought
you’d cracked the bloody secret
of how to be happy.

Don’t believe it.
That’s when the dark rages roll,
those hours, days,
you can’t control
and when it happens
there’s no way on earth to do
what your precious gurus recommend:
walk away; procrastinate;
drink water or calming tea;
meditate.

No. Instead
do what your heart’s need tells you:
take the secret bottle of heathered gold;
pour long and deep; breathe in
the warm satin richness;
let its fierce kiss
burn crimson on your tongue;
swallow down that longed-for surge of happiness
into your body’s constant, clamouring
ache;
and medicate.

So there you go. Maybe poetry only turns up when I'm spitting feathers or in the black gloom. Or both. It's a mystery. But, hey, it's more than three lines - hurrah!

And, talking of writing, it's interesting how today's 1000 words of "The Gifting" have been full of poor Simon getting enraged and doing a lot of yelling. Perhaps my novels should be read purely as a diary exercise to see what mood I was in when I was writing them. Or, more accurately, what mood I was in the day before. But where does that leave the sex scenes? Hmm ...

Meanwhile, the march of time has journeyed onwards ... I picked up my new (name drop alert!) Armani glasses today (which look fine, thank you) and at once the world became significantly larger and more in focus. And there was I thinking that everywhere I went the world was slightly misty. Much like the Queen Mother, who must have imagined that England was terribly clean and strewn with rose petals. Bless her. Still, it meant that the residents of Godalming were far safer on my journey home. And Lord H has already emailed to say I look lovely. What a smoothie, eh? Though actually Lord H has gained at least a hundred brand-new Husband Points from last night - when he spent a long time listening, nodding sympathetically and hugging, even though he'd only just arrived from work and had yet to take his coat off. And he didn't even frown at the amount of swearing going on. What a hero. I can see I shall have to do extra cleaning and (perish the thought) even perhaps some home cooking in order to balance the marital niceness scales once more. What's that? Did someone say I'm overly competitive? Ah, surely not ...

This afternoon, after hammering out Simon's latest trauma, I gave in to the siren call of the sofa and have had a glorious two-hour nap. I can see myself becoming more and more like Lydia Languish who, from memory, spent most of her theatrical fictional time swooning on the sofa and taking smelling salts. Hell, don't knock it. It's a career after all.

Which brings me to thoughts of professionalism. There seems to have been a lot of talk about this on various writing sites recently, but I don't think that on a personal level I can subscribe to its unnatural demands. Rest assured that, whatever happens in the Curious World of Brooke, I shall never turn into a scary professional anything. Please God. I hope I shall always be me - a small corner of the virtual world which shall remain forever determinedly amateur, threateningly unprofessional and (hopefully) as searingly honest as I can be. Please God I never turn into one of those authors who (if I ever make it anywhere else but where I am now, ho ho) smile and smile, and say how wonderful the publishing world is, dahlings, and how charmed their life is now, and how absolutely awful those other wretched would-be writers are. And have one of those cut-glass accents too, even though they came from Bognor and spent most of their childhood in a caravan. Why do they all sound like that? Ye gods, is there a Stepford Authors club out there? Do you have to have your personality removed if you make it into the hallowed corridors of a mainstream publisher? And don't even mention those irritating airbrushed photographs which make every author look the same. I mean, I ask you! Perhaps it is after all a cunning plot dreamed up by a Government marketing department with way too much power and time on its hands. It wouldn't surprise me.

Today's nice things, then:

1. Writing
2. Getting new glasses - Armani! Hey, babe ...!
3. Still having a personality. (You might not like it, but at least you know what it is!).

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Armani and Champagne

Goodness me, but I'm up and down like a goat on a mountain these days - must be my hormones. Or maybe it's just me, eh? Anyway, a much better day today - and thank you to all those good wishes people were kind enough to send my way yesterday. It was very much appreciated.

Up with the milkman this morning (not literally) to go to my optician's appointment at 8.45am. Bloody hell, but what possessed me to agree on such an early time?? Especially as today an icy fog has fallen upon the world and Godalming looks like something out of a Sherlock Holmes film. Thank goodness the receptionist arrived early to let me in. My appointment brought home, above all, the astonishing passing of time - when I first arrived in Surrey and began seeing the Optician thirteen years ago, I thought he was the sexiest thing in Surrey (apart from Lord H, of course) and used to giggle maniacally when he had to gaze into my eyes with that little light. Now, we've probably both gone greyer and the stardust has vanished. Ah well ... he's still a genuinely nice bloke! And, yes, the time has come for new glasses - my right eye is fading gently, even though my left one will probably be seeing perfectly well in the grave, thank you. So I had ten minutes of fun and frolics with the dispensing optician choosing a new pair of glasses - my first since 1996 apparently! My, how out-of-date I am. But the joy comes from realising that the ones I really, really liked were Armani (at last, I get designer style!!!) and in the sales (even better - Lord H won't complain about the price!!). So roll on, New Year, and I'll wow them in the office.

After the sight test, I popped to church to deliver two extra bottles of communion wine to the vestry, in case the post-pub keenies get a little too keen at Midnight Mass on Sunday. You never know ... And then, back home - where I was delighted to receive a glowing review of "Pink Champagne and Apple Juice" from Sue on MySpace (http://www.myspace.com/suehaywood). Thanks hugely, Sue - it's really cheered me today. And (with Sue's permission), I add it below:

"I just knew I was going to love this book even before reading it. Why? I’ve met Anne, the writer of this book through MySpace and she writes some really funny articles in her blog section. When I saw that she had just brought out this book, I knew I had to get a copy and I wasn’t disappointed. My measure of a good read is how fast I get through it. By that, if I’ve read it within a few days, it was because I couldn’t put it down. Well, I’d read this book cover to cover in two days! So why was it so good? It has a brilliant mixture of humour, characters and a very different storyline. I was able to visualise all the characters, even down to how the buildings would look. So I’d better not be disappointed when they make it into a film!!
The storyline is about Angie who flees from her very loving home to make her mark in the world. She looks up her Uncle John who she hasn’t seen for many years and turns up unannounced. Maybe Angie should have had some hints that all would not be as it seems, when she asks for directions and is met with ‘you want where?’. Her first meeting with Uncle John is a memorable one and the story of why Uncle John has not been around for years unfolds with interesting reasons. Mixed in with this are the people who work for Uncle John and the entangled love interests. To find out why you’ll just have to read the book. If you want a taster then you can read the first chapter by clicking here. You’ll be hooked." (Courtesy of Sue's weblog - http://www.teafriendsandchocolate.com/sue/).

Thanks, Sue. Again. And it inspired me to beaver away on "The Gifting" today, and I have added another 1000 words. Phew! Quite pleased with the way it went too. Also inspired by Sue, I drummed up the courage to ring Flame Books (http://www.flamebooks.com) again - this time I tried Michael rather than Sean, and managed to get a more comprehensive explanation as to what on earth is going on. Apparently, they've had to change printers (no reason given, and I was too scared to ask) and hope that my inspection copies will be with me in the New Year - so it looks like they're not dumping me - yet. So I might not be forming my Flame Pit of Despair (courtesy of Jonathan - another confused Flame would-be author - I'm right with you, Jonathan, and thanks for your note!) Support Group, at least for a while. We'll see.

Ooh, and I've just finished Laurie Graham's "The Future Homemakers of America". This was much like a packet of plain chocolate digestives - difficult to get into, a marvel in the middle, but a disappointing crumbly finish. I'll definitely be looking out for her again though - the middle was good!

Today's nice things:

1. Ordering Armani glasses (go, girl, go!)
2. Sue's lovely review
3. Speaking to Michael of Flame - at last!

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk