What a busy and sometimes vastly difficult week it's been. Really, I'm astonished we've got to the end of it and are still standing. Just. Not that it's been all bad news as it hasn't, as there's been lots of nice future publication activity, which has acted as a bit of a boost.
I've received and completed the contract for Rosie by Name from Bluewood Publishing and hope to post that back to them tomorrow, although I've also sent a copy by email. And I have a lovely new publication date for the new edition of A Dangerous Man from Cheyenne Publishing - it will be 15 October 2010, so it's great to have something to look forward to after the inevitable exhaustion of the University's Freshers' Week.
At a less distant perspective, I've sent back the galley proofs of Martin and The Wolf, which now has a page at Amber Allure Press (NB: that page contains erotic content so be warned!). It will be published on Sunday 13 June, so not long to go now, hurrah.
And there's a new interview with me for your delectation at Shae Connor's Journal - thanks so much to Shae for allowing me to take over her journal for a day. It's much appreciated.
However, on the slightly minus side, I've been giving some thought to my novel-writing vocation (I hesitate to say career!) over the last few weeks on and off, and I've decided that when I've finished The Executioner's Cane, then I won't be writing any more novels for the foreseeable future. When I started writing novels in the year 2000, I gave myself ten years to make some kind of go of it and, in all honesty, that hasn't worked, and is causing me on the whole more grief than joy. So I think it's time to call it a day, as they say, and move on. In any case, finishing Executioner will without doubt take me well into 2011 so I've given it my best shot. Yes, I'm sad to have to take this decision, but not taking it will I fear be even more detrimental to my mental/emotional health so I'd be stupid to do anything else.
On the other hand, that doesn't mean I won't be continuing writing the short stories and, perhaps, the odd novella or two. The short story career (and there, I do dare say that word, though with tongue very much in cheek of course!) has been doing surprisingly well recently, particularly with my new gay and literary fiction publishers (special thanks for this to Amber Allure, Torquere Press and Untreed Reads), and bringing in more royalties than anything else put together, so I think it's best to concentrate on that. Plus it's more fun. In terms of novellas, I'd like to finish The Prayer Seeker's Journal at about 40,000 words or so, and then I've got an idea about a gay romance novella, but I won't start that until the last novel is done. Onward and sideways for sanity then, as they say ...
Talking of health matters, which we are sort of, I'm disappointed to note that my second CA125 blood test results weren't great, though almost identical to the first one - so, hell, at least I'm consistent! And the scan I had at the same time wasn't perfect either, though that's probably my usual and there's nothing horrible to worry about there. Which I hope is true on all counts, but I'm seeing the specialist on Wednesday, so I'll wait to hear what she has to say. Ho hum. Thank you hugely to all the people who've sent very kind messages - I'm very grateful indeed. While I'm at the hospital, I think I'm also going to ask her if I can change my current HRT doses in some way - I haven't really been very happy at all over the last couple of months, and have been positively weepy on many occasions and furiously angry on others, though I think I've kept that out of the public domain on the whole (poor, poor Lord H - what a lot he's had to put up with since March or so, and how much of a Superhero he really is!!). We think it might be the hormones, sigh. But, honestly, I really really can't bear a summer of this as I have no clue at all as to how I'm going to feel from one moment to the next or even how I'm going to act. God preserve Surrey! Is it premenopausal, I wonder??
Which brings me (though I trust the link is only coincidental) somehow back to the Cumbria Question. Not on the matter of what happened this time, but on the matter of what's happening now. I would like to nail my colours to the proverbial mast and say that if I live in a society where the press can without any qualms at all interview a 9-year-old boy about his reactions to the killings he witnessed, then we are in all honesty no longer living in either a civilised society or a humane one. The press deserve a hefty fine for this kind of child abuse, and the parents a hefty warning. God preserve us all indeed. Enough said. As I fear that in this age of celebrity-at-any-price and news-at-any-price, then people will do anything and my views are meaningless.
Anyway, here's some poetry to calm us all down:
Meditation 368
There will always be ways
of putting your point across
but what matters most
is the listening.
This week's haiku, because getting up yesterday morning was just sooo tricky! -
Sunlight pierces air,
calls me to the crystal day.
Reluctant riser.
Anne Brooke
The Prayer Seeker's Journal
ANNE BROOKE BOOKS: Independent writer of modern fiction
Showing posts with label News. Show all posts
Showing posts with label News. Show all posts
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Girls, Doves and Angels
The Bones of Summer was also briefly holding its own (as it were) at No 53 in the Amazon Kindle Gay & Lesbian fiction charts but is now, alas, back into the shadows once more. Nice to have the glitter while it lasted, however.
Story acceptances this week have included my comic short story, Rosie by Name, by Bluewood Publishing, and also a comic SF story, Creative Accountancy for Beginners, again by Untreed Reads, so a big thank you to both publishers for that.
You can also find an interview with me at the Dancing Dove Journal, so I hope you enjoy that - I certainly enjoyed answering the questions, and thanks to Ralph for giving me "air-time". I've also finished the edits for gay romance short story, Angels and Airheads, and have sent those back to Torquere Press. And my Hot Fiction Tip for June at Queer Magazine Online can be found here - it's a totally strange title but a fabulous read.
Here are this week's earlier meditations, some of which are strangely and sadly apt:
Meditation 365
Out of a time
of destruction and rage
a small heaven
of quiet words:
on this day
nobody dies.
Meditation 366
After battle
there is time
for kindness
but it’s a spare sort
when the loyalty of cripples
is called to account.
Meditation 367
At eighty years old
he can no longer taste
or see, or hear
the voice of singers
but still has chutzpah enough
to sweet-talk a king.
Finally, in the midst of this, we must absolutely spare many of our thoughts for the Cumbrian gun tragedy which took place yesterday and which left many dead and more injured. Nothing much I can say at all, except that violence is all around and within us, and my heart goes out to the victims, the perpetrator and all their families and friends. We live in tragic and frightening times, I fear.
Anne Brooke
The Prayer Seeker's Journal
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Motes, nature and a good week for stepfathers
Another full day today, but here's this morning's meditation:
Meditation 211
The picture
in your mind
is only blood
and emptiness.
You plan and legislate
for what
cannot be held
in the hand
or snatched
from the air
as it passes.
For most of the day, Lord H and I have been wandering around Ightham Mote in Kent, which is a totally wonderful Medieval moated manor house. Bliss. It's the first time we've been too, so shame on us for not visiting it sooner. We'll definitely be back. It's got so many fantastic higgledy-piggledy rooms and a library layout to die for. The walks round about were pretty damn good too. As was the lunch - special mention has to be made of the banana and toffee meringue which reduced Lord H and myself to a totally worshipful silence. Mmm ...
Not content with all that, we also popped into Sevenoaks Wildlife Reserve on the trail of the black-necked grebe. Sadly we didn't actually spot said grebe, but it's got some good hides so we'll be back when the birds are more in abundance. Or at least more obvious.
Tonight, I am gearing myself up for the joys of Part One of the new adaptation of Wuthering Heights on TV. The scriptwriter is the sainted Peter Bowker, a Man Who Can Do No Wrong - he was responsible for the script of Desperate Romantics and the glorious Blackpool, so it'll definitely be worth watching, I'm sure.
However, I can't really let this week go without saying how utterly horrified I've been at the terrible abduction and imprisonment of poor Jaycee Lee Dugard from the ages of 11 until 29 years. I've been so horrified by it all and what she and her two children must have suffered that when I come to try to pray, I can't find any meaningful words and all I can do is cry. God preserve us, maybe that's enough. The only good thing that I can say about it all, speaking with my stepdaughter hat on, is that it's lovely to see that stepfathers aren't necessarily the potentially evil monsters they're often depicted as being these days. Sometimes they can be good things too - and I'm sorry the last 18 years of veiled accusations have cost Jaycee's stepfather his marriage, but it must be a relief for him to be so totally exonerated today. I like to think that if I'd ever been snatched from the street by an individual intent on evil (as my grandmother used to say), my own stepfather Jim would also have got on his bike, or more likely into one of his beloved tractors, and attempted to give chase, no matter how hopeless the outcome. Anyway, a tragic, long and horrific episode for all the Dugard family, and let's hope recovery is as whole as it can be for them. What I really fear is how many other Jaycees are out there, waiting to be discovered. Or not ...
Here are this week's haikus (two today, as one popped into my head this afternoon):
In my scented bath
a cloud of stories floats by.
Possibilities.
In green-golden woods
dapple my skin with sunlight,
meld me to the earth.
Today's nice things:
1. Poetry
2. Ightham Mote
3. TV
4. Stepfathers
5. Haikus.
Anne Brooke: in medieval mode
Maloney's Law: for the children who remain
Meditation 211
The picture
in your mind
is only blood
and emptiness.
You plan and legislate
for what
cannot be held
in the hand
or snatched
from the air
as it passes.
For most of the day, Lord H and I have been wandering around Ightham Mote in Kent, which is a totally wonderful Medieval moated manor house. Bliss. It's the first time we've been too, so shame on us for not visiting it sooner. We'll definitely be back. It's got so many fantastic higgledy-piggledy rooms and a library layout to die for. The walks round about were pretty damn good too. As was the lunch - special mention has to be made of the banana and toffee meringue which reduced Lord H and myself to a totally worshipful silence. Mmm ...
Not content with all that, we also popped into Sevenoaks Wildlife Reserve on the trail of the black-necked grebe. Sadly we didn't actually spot said grebe, but it's got some good hides so we'll be back when the birds are more in abundance. Or at least more obvious.
Tonight, I am gearing myself up for the joys of Part One of the new adaptation of Wuthering Heights on TV. The scriptwriter is the sainted Peter Bowker, a Man Who Can Do No Wrong - he was responsible for the script of Desperate Romantics and the glorious Blackpool, so it'll definitely be worth watching, I'm sure.
However, I can't really let this week go without saying how utterly horrified I've been at the terrible abduction and imprisonment of poor Jaycee Lee Dugard from the ages of 11 until 29 years. I've been so horrified by it all and what she and her two children must have suffered that when I come to try to pray, I can't find any meaningful words and all I can do is cry. God preserve us, maybe that's enough. The only good thing that I can say about it all, speaking with my stepdaughter hat on, is that it's lovely to see that stepfathers aren't necessarily the potentially evil monsters they're often depicted as being these days. Sometimes they can be good things too - and I'm sorry the last 18 years of veiled accusations have cost Jaycee's stepfather his marriage, but it must be a relief for him to be so totally exonerated today. I like to think that if I'd ever been snatched from the street by an individual intent on evil (as my grandmother used to say), my own stepfather Jim would also have got on his bike, or more likely into one of his beloved tractors, and attempted to give chase, no matter how hopeless the outcome. Anyway, a tragic, long and horrific episode for all the Dugard family, and let's hope recovery is as whole as it can be for them. What I really fear is how many other Jaycees are out there, waiting to be discovered. Or not ...
Here are this week's haikus (two today, as one popped into my head this afternoon):
In my scented bath
a cloud of stories floats by.
Possibilities.
In green-golden woods
dapple my skin with sunlight,
meld me to the earth.
Today's nice things:
1. Poetry
2. Ightham Mote
3. TV
4. Stepfathers
5. Haikus.
Anne Brooke: in medieval mode
Maloney's Law: for the children who remain
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Hallsfoot - first draft done!
Ye gods and little fishes, the miracle has finally occurred and I've actually finished the first draft of Hallsfoot's Battle, hurrah! It's come in at 129,438 words and I'm smiling. I particularly love the ending - and not just because I could then lay my head on my keyboard and give a deep and heartfelt sigh. I have celebrated this momentous event with a chocolate biscuit - thus proving that I do in fact know how to live on the edge. Now all I have to do is find the courage from somewhere to face the mammoth edit to come. I suspect that won't happen until after our holiday for sure.
All of which effort and joy and pain obviously means very little to some of my writing friends - one of whom today took my breath away utterly and absolutely by saying (by implication) that only full-time writers are real writers. Arrgghhh!!!! Words fail me. If we're fighting such a battle against those of us who are supposed to know better, what hope for the rest of society?? Deep deep sigh. I can only hope it was supposed to be a joke. If it was, then a bad one and badly done, I feel. But I would like to state my case now and state it well (thus the capitals): ANYONE WHO WRITES ANYTHING AT ALL AND CREATES A POEM, A NOVEL, A SHORT STORY, A PIECE OF FLASH FICTION OR ANY OTHER PIECE OF WRITING OUT OF IT IS DEFINITELY AND FOR ALL TIME A REAL WRITER. And I don't care whether that real writer has one, two or 102 other jobs they have to do as well, that remains the truth. May those who think otherwise slink away and reconsider the error of their ways indeed ...
Anyway, speech over, phew, though as one last thought perhaps my new strapline should be: Anne Brooke - unreal writer and proud of it. It's an idea for sure. But remaining on the subject of writing, here's today's meditation:
Meditation 145
The trick is
to understand
the right moment
and dwell in it.
To wait
for its breath alone
to touch you
and not to heed
the hasty words
of others.
Sometimes
the courage to wait
is the greatest courage
of all.
This morning, Lord H and I have braved the puzzlements of the Trinity Sunday service - always the most feared of all the services by preachers themselves - one old vicar of ours always used to take the day off and invite a guest preacher to muddle through the doctrine of the Trinity, a quite wise move really. No-one truly knows about it or understands it, and really we in the pews aren't that bothered one way or the other. But there were some good hymns and then pastries after the service to take our minds off it all. Frankly I think it's one of those issues that worry the clergy more than anyone normal. If you see what I mean.
Oh, and today's exciting Surrey news is that a human foot has been found in a refuse bin in Cobham. Lord H's comment was the police were probably getting angsty about it as it might have been recyclable, but I don't quite think he got the point there, myself. Anyway, they now appear to have found a whole woman in the bin, so presumably some stalwart policeperson had to go beyond the foot to see what else was there. Hell, we really know how to party here in the shires.
Tonight, there's sod all on TV, so we might get our Lewis DVDs out - it feels like that kind of evening. Talking of TV though, was it just me or was yesterday's episode of Primeval hugely substandard?? A lot of clunky action & acting and very very strained. I could see the denouement coming a mile off, groan ... It was quite laughable.
And here's this week's haiku, mainly in honour of yesterday's Race for Life, but sadly ironic in terms of refuse bin woman perhaps:
Today the colour
of hope is pink; women walk
to keep death at bay.
Today's nice things:
1. Finishing the first draft of Hallsfoot
2. Poetry
3. Church amusements
4. DVDs.
Anne Brooke - keeping all her limbs in one place, thus far ...
All of which effort and joy and pain obviously means very little to some of my writing friends - one of whom today took my breath away utterly and absolutely by saying (by implication) that only full-time writers are real writers. Arrgghhh!!!! Words fail me. If we're fighting such a battle against those of us who are supposed to know better, what hope for the rest of society?? Deep deep sigh. I can only hope it was supposed to be a joke. If it was, then a bad one and badly done, I feel. But I would like to state my case now and state it well (thus the capitals): ANYONE WHO WRITES ANYTHING AT ALL AND CREATES A POEM, A NOVEL, A SHORT STORY, A PIECE OF FLASH FICTION OR ANY OTHER PIECE OF WRITING OUT OF IT IS DEFINITELY AND FOR ALL TIME A REAL WRITER. And I don't care whether that real writer has one, two or 102 other jobs they have to do as well, that remains the truth. May those who think otherwise slink away and reconsider the error of their ways indeed ...
Anyway, speech over, phew, though as one last thought perhaps my new strapline should be: Anne Brooke - unreal writer and proud of it. It's an idea for sure. But remaining on the subject of writing, here's today's meditation:
Meditation 145
The trick is
to understand
the right moment
and dwell in it.
To wait
for its breath alone
to touch you
and not to heed
the hasty words
of others.
Sometimes
the courage to wait
is the greatest courage
of all.
This morning, Lord H and I have braved the puzzlements of the Trinity Sunday service - always the most feared of all the services by preachers themselves - one old vicar of ours always used to take the day off and invite a guest preacher to muddle through the doctrine of the Trinity, a quite wise move really. No-one truly knows about it or understands it, and really we in the pews aren't that bothered one way or the other. But there were some good hymns and then pastries after the service to take our minds off it all. Frankly I think it's one of those issues that worry the clergy more than anyone normal. If you see what I mean.
Oh, and today's exciting Surrey news is that a human foot has been found in a refuse bin in Cobham. Lord H's comment was the police were probably getting angsty about it as it might have been recyclable, but I don't quite think he got the point there, myself. Anyway, they now appear to have found a whole woman in the bin, so presumably some stalwart policeperson had to go beyond the foot to see what else was there. Hell, we really know how to party here in the shires.
Tonight, there's sod all on TV, so we might get our Lewis DVDs out - it feels like that kind of evening. Talking of TV though, was it just me or was yesterday's episode of Primeval hugely substandard?? A lot of clunky action & acting and very very strained. I could see the denouement coming a mile off, groan ... It was quite laughable.
And here's this week's haiku, mainly in honour of yesterday's Race for Life, but sadly ironic in terms of refuse bin woman perhaps:
Today the colour
of hope is pink; women walk
to keep death at bay.
Today's nice things:
1. Finishing the first draft of Hallsfoot
2. Poetry
3. Church amusements
4. DVDs.
Anne Brooke - keeping all her limbs in one place, thus far ...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Gin, grief and medicine
My first review as a fully-fledged Book Fox for the Vulpes Libris review site is now up and is the gloriously dark and deliciously chewy Kill-Grief by Caroline Rance. Read and enjoy - it's a classy book.
Speaking of words, I must say how utterly wonderful yesterday's programme on Milton's Paradise Lost turned out to be. I was gripped. Even Lord H was gripped and expressed a desire to read the great poem afterwards (even though he hates poetry) - well gosh! We were all gripped. Full marks to that unexpectedly dark, rich and passionate presenter, Armando Iannucci, for telling it how it is and letting Milton's astonishing words live and breathe to the full. It was electrifying television and if any of you were unfortunate enough to miss it, do please rush off now and activate your BBC2 i-players. It'll be the best hour of factual TV you've seen in a long, long time. Now if only they'd hired Iannucci to present the John Donne programme as well, then that would have been absolutely perfect too.
I was also amused - and strangely heartened - to hear that when Milton (after about 20 years of writing it) finally got round to publishing Paradise Lost, the two initial reactions he received were (a) "Did you realise it doesn't rhyme and that's not very commercial?" - from his publisher; and (b) "It's all very nice, but why didn't you write about paradise regained?" - from his best friend. Ye gods, and there was I thinking I was hard done by as a writer ... It's enough to make you want to take your trusty quill pen and poke their eyes out with it. As Iannucci said: how rude!
Tying nicely in to matters spiritual, here's this morning's poem:
Meditation 135
Midday heat.
The scent of water
on the skin.
The waiting air.
A woman walks,
framed in sunlight,
towards a man
she has never known
and known for ever
while words rest
by the well
under the tongue
as the moment turns.
Oh, and I must say that I've been desperately squeezing the last of my toothpaste out of the tube in increasingly vigorous efforts over the last couple of days whilst accompanied by suitable swearing at modern manufacturers - I do so hate waste - but this morning after Lord H had left for work, I dragged myself to the bathroom and found that - yes! - he'd already squeezed it out for me onto the toothbrush to save me the effort and left brush & paste balanced on the flannel. What a super-hero indeed. Of such gloriously miniature moments is a modern marriage made ...
This morning, I've added more to that last battle scene of Hallsfoot's Battle and I think they're working towards closure now. I know roughly in my head what's going to happen (which is, as you know, rare), who will die and who won't. I feel quieter and less desperate about it at the moment - a good thing for sure - and the panic to get to the end has faded slightly. So I'm taking it as it comes and trying to write what I think needs to be written. I hope, eh.
So, I reckon I've deserved my Clarins massage this afternoon - it was bliss as ever. The only thing was at the end I realised (which I did know about but I'd forgotten, shame on me ...) that it was my last session with Hilary as she's leaving for pastures new and next time I'll be seeing Alice. I felt suitably traumatised for having forgotten and not having bought Hilary a leaving present - honestly, I am indeed crystallising into a self-centred, thoughtless slapper in my middle years. My mother was right after all then, hey ho. Sometimes I forget that there's a world beyond my own head, sigh ...
Anyway, back home, I briefly caught up with the neighbour who's now out of hospital and looking stronger, double hurrahs. I've then spent the rest of the day improving on the book trailer for The Bones of Summer - it's been niggling at me for weeks so today I've gone in, knocked it around a bit, added another image and got the music to end where I want it to, just about. I'm keeping that trailer under wraps for the moment as the novel isn't out until the middle of June, but watch this space. I've also been adding a Vulpes Libris page to my website, which took some time as I forget to update the actual link whilst putting it in (sorry, techno talk, sorry ...) so had to go back over each page and do it again. I think it's right now though, but if you do see something odd - well, odder than usual on my site - please do let me know. I'll be most grateful.
Tonight, Lord H and I will be glued to Springwatch, and then it's Graham Norton for me. I'm such a classy broad. Oh, and - stop press! - Surrey actually has news, ye gods and little fishes, which you can find out about here. Well, gosh indeedy. News in Surrey that doesn't happen on a Friday - how rare! Who knows: it might therefore even be possible for the Surrey Advertiser to put it on its front page tomorrow in the right week for once. We wait and wonder.
Today's nice things:
1. Caroline Rance's kick-ass wonderful book
2. Milton programme
3. Poetry
4. Writing Hallsfoot
5. Clarins massage
6. Book trailer updates
7. Website work
8. Happy neighbours
9. TV.
Anne Brooke - knows a good book when she sees one
Cancer Research Race for Life - still time to give!
Speaking of words, I must say how utterly wonderful yesterday's programme on Milton's Paradise Lost turned out to be. I was gripped. Even Lord H was gripped and expressed a desire to read the great poem afterwards (even though he hates poetry) - well gosh! We were all gripped. Full marks to that unexpectedly dark, rich and passionate presenter, Armando Iannucci, for telling it how it is and letting Milton's astonishing words live and breathe to the full. It was electrifying television and if any of you were unfortunate enough to miss it, do please rush off now and activate your BBC2 i-players. It'll be the best hour of factual TV you've seen in a long, long time. Now if only they'd hired Iannucci to present the John Donne programme as well, then that would have been absolutely perfect too.
I was also amused - and strangely heartened - to hear that when Milton (after about 20 years of writing it) finally got round to publishing Paradise Lost, the two initial reactions he received were (a) "Did you realise it doesn't rhyme and that's not very commercial?" - from his publisher; and (b) "It's all very nice, but why didn't you write about paradise regained?" - from his best friend. Ye gods, and there was I thinking I was hard done by as a writer ... It's enough to make you want to take your trusty quill pen and poke their eyes out with it. As Iannucci said: how rude!
Tying nicely in to matters spiritual, here's this morning's poem:
Meditation 135
Midday heat.
The scent of water
on the skin.
The waiting air.
A woman walks,
framed in sunlight,
towards a man
she has never known
and known for ever
while words rest
by the well
under the tongue
as the moment turns.
Oh, and I must say that I've been desperately squeezing the last of my toothpaste out of the tube in increasingly vigorous efforts over the last couple of days whilst accompanied by suitable swearing at modern manufacturers - I do so hate waste - but this morning after Lord H had left for work, I dragged myself to the bathroom and found that - yes! - he'd already squeezed it out for me onto the toothbrush to save me the effort and left brush & paste balanced on the flannel. What a super-hero indeed. Of such gloriously miniature moments is a modern marriage made ...
This morning, I've added more to that last battle scene of Hallsfoot's Battle and I think they're working towards closure now. I know roughly in my head what's going to happen (which is, as you know, rare), who will die and who won't. I feel quieter and less desperate about it at the moment - a good thing for sure - and the panic to get to the end has faded slightly. So I'm taking it as it comes and trying to write what I think needs to be written. I hope, eh.
So, I reckon I've deserved my Clarins massage this afternoon - it was bliss as ever. The only thing was at the end I realised (which I did know about but I'd forgotten, shame on me ...) that it was my last session with Hilary as she's leaving for pastures new and next time I'll be seeing Alice. I felt suitably traumatised for having forgotten and not having bought Hilary a leaving present - honestly, I am indeed crystallising into a self-centred, thoughtless slapper in my middle years. My mother was right after all then, hey ho. Sometimes I forget that there's a world beyond my own head, sigh ...
Anyway, back home, I briefly caught up with the neighbour who's now out of hospital and looking stronger, double hurrahs. I've then spent the rest of the day improving on the book trailer for The Bones of Summer - it's been niggling at me for weeks so today I've gone in, knocked it around a bit, added another image and got the music to end where I want it to, just about. I'm keeping that trailer under wraps for the moment as the novel isn't out until the middle of June, but watch this space. I've also been adding a Vulpes Libris page to my website, which took some time as I forget to update the actual link whilst putting it in (sorry, techno talk, sorry ...) so had to go back over each page and do it again. I think it's right now though, but if you do see something odd - well, odder than usual on my site - please do let me know. I'll be most grateful.
Tonight, Lord H and I will be glued to Springwatch, and then it's Graham Norton for me. I'm such a classy broad. Oh, and - stop press! - Surrey actually has news, ye gods and little fishes, which you can find out about here. Well, gosh indeedy. News in Surrey that doesn't happen on a Friday - how rare! Who knows: it might therefore even be possible for the Surrey Advertiser to put it on its front page tomorrow in the right week for once. We wait and wonder.
Today's nice things:
1. Caroline Rance's kick-ass wonderful book
2. Milton programme
3. Poetry
4. Writing Hallsfoot
5. Clarins massage
6. Book trailer updates
7. Website work
8. Happy neighbours
9. TV.
Anne Brooke - knows a good book when she sees one
Cancer Research Race for Life - still time to give!
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Back to the battle, a gay solution and a competition prize
Still getting there on the health front today, slowly slowly. A lot of coughing and snorting - in fact I'm thinking of applying for a job as an old horse, should one be up for grabs anywhere. Really, I'd be brilliant. We've also been continuing to laugh a lot at MPs. Such joy to know that the criminals are all safely gathered in one place: Parliament. Ho hum.
We're also smiling at the Church Times which, as always, manages to grab the last word on the religious issue of the day - in response to the recent appalling news about the London conference encouraging homosexual people to be "turned straight" (Lord preserve us from such idiocy, we cry ...), one of their literature-focused columnists suggests that in fact the world would be a lot more pleasant and far more moral if there was a programme to turn us all gay - then Macbeth would have shacked up with Duncan rather than murdering him, Jane Eyre would have managed to talk Mrs Rochester down from the roof and Romeo would have settled down happily in Verona with Mercutio. There's much to be said for it indeed - where do we all sign up??
Meanwhile, I've finally got myself back into writing more of Hallsfoot's Battle and am now at 118,500 words. Mind you, I'm getting hugely twitchy now and I just want to (CAPITALS DELIBERATE) GET THIS DANG FIRST DRAFT FINISHED and have a bloody good lie-down. Please??? I'm sooo nearly at the end of the wretched battle scene, then I have to finish the mopping up, get Simon, Ralph, Johan and Annyeke in the places where they should be and I'm done. Honestly, it's as if I can glimpse the finish line in the distance, but the sweat in my eyes is meaning the whole damn thing's a bit blurred and I'm not sure I'll get there in one piece. Or, more accurately maybe, it's like a piece of classical music Lord H and I were listening to on the radio a few days ago where just as you thought they'd played the final chord, there was another ... and another ... and then another. And only THEN was it over. Writing the end - or trying oh so desperately to write the end - of Hallsfoot is hugely like that. Goddammit. I'm tired, I've had it up to here and I need to start something else. Soon.
But there's more positive literary news too, thank the Lord. The lovely people at First Edition Magazine are offering a complete and signed set of my novels as a competition prize in their June edition - which is out now in WHSmith's, hurrah! My name is even on the front in a big red circle, so that's lovely. I'm just hoping and praying that some kind people out there might actually enter the competition (the answers are easy and can be found either in my interview in the May edition or on my website, hint hint ...) -as the humiliation if nobody enters and they have to ditch the books or (worse!) send them back to me doesn't really bear thinking about. Though of course I am doing nothing else but thinking about that scenario, sigh ...
Tonight, I'm gearing myself up for the joys of Primeval and then we must watch as much of Eurovision as we can bear. The honour of the country, don't you know. Ho ho. It won't be the same without Sir Terry however - and I really don't think much of that dreadful UK entry. I tried to listen to it on YouTube earlier in the week and could only manage about 30 seconds without losing the will to live. So, bearing in mind the undoubted influence of my cultural opinion on the music (or indeed any other) business, that probably means the damn thing will be an outright winner. Lord preserve us once more.
Today's nice things:
1. Church Times articles
2. Limping to the finish with Hallsfoot, slowly
3. Being a competition prize - at last, at last!
4. TV.
Anne Brooke - aiming high at nul points ...
Cancer Research Race for Life - all donations very gratefully received
We're also smiling at the Church Times which, as always, manages to grab the last word on the religious issue of the day - in response to the recent appalling news about the London conference encouraging homosexual people to be "turned straight" (Lord preserve us from such idiocy, we cry ...), one of their literature-focused columnists suggests that in fact the world would be a lot more pleasant and far more moral if there was a programme to turn us all gay - then Macbeth would have shacked up with Duncan rather than murdering him, Jane Eyre would have managed to talk Mrs Rochester down from the roof and Romeo would have settled down happily in Verona with Mercutio. There's much to be said for it indeed - where do we all sign up??
Meanwhile, I've finally got myself back into writing more of Hallsfoot's Battle and am now at 118,500 words. Mind you, I'm getting hugely twitchy now and I just want to (CAPITALS DELIBERATE) GET THIS DANG FIRST DRAFT FINISHED and have a bloody good lie-down. Please??? I'm sooo nearly at the end of the wretched battle scene, then I have to finish the mopping up, get Simon, Ralph, Johan and Annyeke in the places where they should be and I'm done. Honestly, it's as if I can glimpse the finish line in the distance, but the sweat in my eyes is meaning the whole damn thing's a bit blurred and I'm not sure I'll get there in one piece. Or, more accurately maybe, it's like a piece of classical music Lord H and I were listening to on the radio a few days ago where just as you thought they'd played the final chord, there was another ... and another ... and then another. And only THEN was it over. Writing the end - or trying oh so desperately to write the end - of Hallsfoot is hugely like that. Goddammit. I'm tired, I've had it up to here and I need to start something else. Soon.
But there's more positive literary news too, thank the Lord. The lovely people at First Edition Magazine are offering a complete and signed set of my novels as a competition prize in their June edition - which is out now in WHSmith's, hurrah! My name is even on the front in a big red circle, so that's lovely. I'm just hoping and praying that some kind people out there might actually enter the competition (the answers are easy and can be found either in my interview in the May edition or on my website, hint hint ...) -as the humiliation if nobody enters and they have to ditch the books or (worse!) send them back to me doesn't really bear thinking about. Though of course I am doing nothing else but thinking about that scenario, sigh ...
Tonight, I'm gearing myself up for the joys of Primeval and then we must watch as much of Eurovision as we can bear. The honour of the country, don't you know. Ho ho. It won't be the same without Sir Terry however - and I really don't think much of that dreadful UK entry. I tried to listen to it on YouTube earlier in the week and could only manage about 30 seconds without losing the will to live. So, bearing in mind the undoubted influence of my cultural opinion on the music (or indeed any other) business, that probably means the damn thing will be an outright winner. Lord preserve us once more.
Today's nice things:
1. Church Times articles
2. Limping to the finish with Hallsfoot, slowly
3. Being a competition prize - at last, at last!
4. TV.
Anne Brooke - aiming high at nul points ...
Cancer Research Race for Life - all donations very gratefully received
Friday, August 24, 2007
Recuperating ...
Another day of generally attempting to get well for the weekend today. Cancelled golf this morning and I haven't been into Godalming to get any shopping - plan to try to see if I'm up to it tomorrow morning.
That said, I do feel a bit stronger - and actually I haven't been as fiercely ill as I usually am, so that's a blessing beyond my expectations. Plus I've actually been able to sleep so quadruple huzzahs all round! Funny though how I still feel like a squeezed-out sponge - or hell maybe that is just me?...
Anyway, I've done no writing today - apart from the blog of course - so am feeling rather guilty and might do some later. Though, heck, a couple of days off never hurt anyone. And I'm sure Paul & Craig are enjoying it down in Devon. Hope the weather holds for them. Writerly note: hmm, must mention the weather.
Instead I've watched an episode of the always adorable "Lewis" on DVD (please God let them make another series - please please please ...), napped for another two hours, had a spot of lunch and finished my latest Harlan Coben book, Promise Me. Which was the usual page-turning stuff and you can't put it down until you know what happens. Plus the humour and dialogue are great. But I must say I am getting rather wearied of Win - the psycho "deus ex machina" who always gets Myron out of his scrapes. It's getting a wee bit predictable now - isn't Myron adult enough to solve his own problems, rather than always (sigh ...) calling in the evil Superman??... Also, I thought the ending was rather contrived though I do admit the twist was nicely done. Being me, I would have preferred it if the innocent teenager had been the arch-criminal - now that would really have been wonderful! Plus she could have gone off with the wretched Win and they could have lived happily ever after together - somewhere else.
I've also been amused by one of BBC's online news headlines today - "Detectives uncover a hidden Constable" - still laughing. Um, isn't it a question of just opening the staff room door??... There he is, Inspector! My, our British Bobbies are the best in the world, you know. They probably found him with the Weapons of Mass Destruction, ho ho.
Tonight, I'm going to go for the usual Friday pizza & garlic bread option, but I'm still unsure about the wine. We'll see. And I must admit to feeling more human after my nap - there's hope for me yet then.
Today's nice things:
1. Feeling a little better
2. Lewis
3. Laughing at police activities.
Anne Brooke
Anne's website
That said, I do feel a bit stronger - and actually I haven't been as fiercely ill as I usually am, so that's a blessing beyond my expectations. Plus I've actually been able to sleep so quadruple huzzahs all round! Funny though how I still feel like a squeezed-out sponge - or hell maybe that is just me?...
Anyway, I've done no writing today - apart from the blog of course - so am feeling rather guilty and might do some later. Though, heck, a couple of days off never hurt anyone. And I'm sure Paul & Craig are enjoying it down in Devon. Hope the weather holds for them. Writerly note: hmm, must mention the weather.
Instead I've watched an episode of the always adorable "Lewis" on DVD (please God let them make another series - please please please ...), napped for another two hours, had a spot of lunch and finished my latest Harlan Coben book, Promise Me. Which was the usual page-turning stuff and you can't put it down until you know what happens. Plus the humour and dialogue are great. But I must say I am getting rather wearied of Win - the psycho "deus ex machina" who always gets Myron out of his scrapes. It's getting a wee bit predictable now - isn't Myron adult enough to solve his own problems, rather than always (sigh ...) calling in the evil Superman??... Also, I thought the ending was rather contrived though I do admit the twist was nicely done. Being me, I would have preferred it if the innocent teenager had been the arch-criminal - now that would really have been wonderful! Plus she could have gone off with the wretched Win and they could have lived happily ever after together - somewhere else.
I've also been amused by one of BBC's online news headlines today - "Detectives uncover a hidden Constable" - still laughing. Um, isn't it a question of just opening the staff room door??... There he is, Inspector! My, our British Bobbies are the best in the world, you know. They probably found him with the Weapons of Mass Destruction, ho ho.
Tonight, I'm going to go for the usual Friday pizza & garlic bread option, but I'm still unsure about the wine. We'll see. And I must admit to feeling more human after my nap - there's hope for me yet then.
Today's nice things:
1. Feeling a little better
2. Lewis
3. Laughing at police activities.
Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Reflexology, more reviews and the curse of the Japanese toilet
Was thrilled last night when Roger Morris (http://rogersplog.blogspot.com/), author of the marvellous Taking Comfort and the mysterious and much-praised A Gentle Axe, emailed me with a few comments on A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com) which can be found here: http://therapsheet.blogspot.com/2007/04/looking-to-future.html under the entry for 16 April, half way down, or as below:
“Another small publisher with an interesting list, and an original approach, is Flame Books. It’s the publisher of the novel I’m reading at the moment, a crime work called A Dangerous Man, by Anne Brooke. A Dangerous Man has garnered praise from no less a writer than Andrew Taylor, who described it as “a dark and chilling parable about art, love and murder.” What’s remarkable about Anne Brooke’s work is her ability to enter convincingly and with extraordinary empathy into the milieus of her protagonists, which I imagine are very different from her own. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t believe she has that much direct experience of male homosexual prostitutes, which makes this a bold and brave book for her to write. I’m all for brave, bold books.”
Gosh, thanks, Roger. Much appreciated. I’m not sure that Michael and I ever feel either brave or bold actually, but there you go …! But, heck, both of us are really pleased you’re liking the book.
At work, it’s been slow but steady, and I’m still ploughing my way through my conference notes. Groan. I was however both cheered and brought back to reality again (as he didn’t like the ending, which is fair enough, and, for the purposes of being honest about my reviews, I’m reproducing as much as I can without spoiling the plot) by an email from Jay Mandal, author of A Different Kind of Love and Slubberdegullion amongst other work (http://www.bewrite.net), who has just finished ADM and says the following:
“I always knew you could write, and this was very, very good. I thoroughly enjoyed it … You’ve found ‘your voice’ (I hate that expression, too). Stick with it. It was taut, edgy, gripping, exciting, a page turner, and I read it slowly because I didn’t want to finish it. It was powerful and passionate, and I wished I’d written it myself. I was really on Michael’s side … The ending was the only thing where I felt let down. I don’t mean sad … I mean I thought it might have been better if it had ended differently. Obviously this is just a personal opinion … Not only did it seem too bleak, but also too out of character.”
Thanks, Jay, for all the comments. They’re much appreciated also. It’s good to get a different view but I must say that, speaking as someone who’s had Michael in her head for years, both he and I honestly feel I couldn’t have ended it any other way. It was the part of the book where his voice and mine gelled the most. Writing it that way felt fantastic and just seemed so fitting. But I do understand that people will find it difficult.
Anyway, all this excitement got me through to lunchtime, when I had a blissful reflexology session and just chilled. I think I might try some Reiki next time, as Emily (http://www.optimum-fitness.co.uk) always adds a couple of minutes of Reiki (at foot level, strange to say!) after my session and I really love it. I certainly need to get my energy levels in some kind of balance, but heck I’ve always known that.
Oh, and Lord H has told me there is apparently some kind of excitement over the curse of the Japanese toilet on the news. It appears that the new craze in Japan is to have electronically heated toilets/bidets (gross thought in itself!) which do virtually everything for you bar the washing-up (though maybe that’s not a good phrase to use in the same sentence as “bidet” …). Unfortunately, the electronics has gone wrong so some of them burst into flame without warning. Scary!! So just when you thought that all you had was a nice warm bottom, beware … Nobody’s been injured yet (thank goodness! Though how could you ever tell anyone!?...), so thank God for small mercies, eh …
Tonight, I might do a bit of scribbling but we’ll see. I’m also aiming to watch “Sea of Souls” on TV, which is probably too scary for my delicate constitution, but I do enjoy the classy pap of it.
And finally, on a more serious note and bearing in mind my part-time paid occupation, I’d like to extend sympathies and a terrified kind of understanding to the staff and students of Virginia Tech University. Dear God, it could happen to any of us institutions here in the Higher Education world, as it’s already happened in too many schools. But why oh why didn’t they at least try to shut the whole darn thing down after the first incident?? I know it’s a virtually impossible task in something the size and structure of a normal campus, but you would have thought something could have been done. I hope we’ll all learn lessons from this, in every way. Please God.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
“Another small publisher with an interesting list, and an original approach, is Flame Books. It’s the publisher of the novel I’m reading at the moment, a crime work called A Dangerous Man, by Anne Brooke. A Dangerous Man has garnered praise from no less a writer than Andrew Taylor, who described it as “a dark and chilling parable about art, love and murder.” What’s remarkable about Anne Brooke’s work is her ability to enter convincingly and with extraordinary empathy into the milieus of her protagonists, which I imagine are very different from her own. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t believe she has that much direct experience of male homosexual prostitutes, which makes this a bold and brave book for her to write. I’m all for brave, bold books.”
Gosh, thanks, Roger. Much appreciated. I’m not sure that Michael and I ever feel either brave or bold actually, but there you go …! But, heck, both of us are really pleased you’re liking the book.
At work, it’s been slow but steady, and I’m still ploughing my way through my conference notes. Groan. I was however both cheered and brought back to reality again (as he didn’t like the ending, which is fair enough, and, for the purposes of being honest about my reviews, I’m reproducing as much as I can without spoiling the plot) by an email from Jay Mandal, author of A Different Kind of Love and Slubberdegullion amongst other work (http://www.bewrite.net), who has just finished ADM and says the following:
“I always knew you could write, and this was very, very good. I thoroughly enjoyed it … You’ve found ‘your voice’ (I hate that expression, too). Stick with it. It was taut, edgy, gripping, exciting, a page turner, and I read it slowly because I didn’t want to finish it. It was powerful and passionate, and I wished I’d written it myself. I was really on Michael’s side … The ending was the only thing where I felt let down. I don’t mean sad … I mean I thought it might have been better if it had ended differently. Obviously this is just a personal opinion … Not only did it seem too bleak, but also too out of character.”
Thanks, Jay, for all the comments. They’re much appreciated also. It’s good to get a different view but I must say that, speaking as someone who’s had Michael in her head for years, both he and I honestly feel I couldn’t have ended it any other way. It was the part of the book where his voice and mine gelled the most. Writing it that way felt fantastic and just seemed so fitting. But I do understand that people will find it difficult.
Anyway, all this excitement got me through to lunchtime, when I had a blissful reflexology session and just chilled. I think I might try some Reiki next time, as Emily (http://www.optimum-fitness.co.uk) always adds a couple of minutes of Reiki (at foot level, strange to say!) after my session and I really love it. I certainly need to get my energy levels in some kind of balance, but heck I’ve always known that.
Oh, and Lord H has told me there is apparently some kind of excitement over the curse of the Japanese toilet on the news. It appears that the new craze in Japan is to have electronically heated toilets/bidets (gross thought in itself!) which do virtually everything for you bar the washing-up (though maybe that’s not a good phrase to use in the same sentence as “bidet” …). Unfortunately, the electronics has gone wrong so some of them burst into flame without warning. Scary!! So just when you thought that all you had was a nice warm bottom, beware … Nobody’s been injured yet (thank goodness! Though how could you ever tell anyone!?...), so thank God for small mercies, eh …
Tonight, I might do a bit of scribbling but we’ll see. I’m also aiming to watch “Sea of Souls” on TV, which is probably too scary for my delicate constitution, but I do enjoy the classy pap of it.
And finally, on a more serious note and bearing in mind my part-time paid occupation, I’d like to extend sympathies and a terrified kind of understanding to the staff and students of Virginia Tech University. Dear God, it could happen to any of us institutions here in the Higher Education world, as it’s already happened in too many schools. But why oh why didn’t they at least try to shut the whole darn thing down after the first incident?? I know it’s a virtually impossible task in something the size and structure of a normal campus, but you would have thought something could have been done. I hope we’ll all learn lessons from this, in every way. Please God.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Monday, January 01, 2007
Resolutions and revolts
A rather disturbed night last night. God knows why, but Lord H and I were both wide awake at 5am and then slumped again at 8. And not even a neighbourhood party to use as an excuse. Maybe it was the lack of night-time Horlicks? Hmm, I feel an advert coming on ... But at least I had time to think up some sensible resolutions while I was staring at the ceiling.
Which include (a) watching the News more so I at least know something of what's going on in the world, thus lessening the possibilities of looking like a complete dork too often (Iraq? We're at war? ... Still? - no, really, that's just an example. Honest ...); (b) not pushing myself to do stuff too much and relaxing more; (c) doing more of what I enjoy and less of what I feel I have to do. After all, Lord H is the expert at (b) and (c), so I should be able to follow his example fairly easily. So, there you have it. Let's hope that by the end of 2007, I'm a completely informed layabout. Hmm, will there be a test?...
Oh, and Lord H found a news item on the Internet today which said that the French were revolting (please, no jokes ...) because they didn't want to have 2007, as they all thought 2006 had been okay and wanted to hang onto it for longer. Apparently, they held a march to protest the onward movement of time last night, shouting "No to 2007!" (or Non a 2007, more realistically?). I gather the enthusiasm wasn't quenched when 2007 actually turned up, as they then all started shouting "No to 2008!" Marvellous stuff - there's something so quirkily British about it that (a) I wish we'd thought of it first; and (b) it's good to know that the French are finally learning something from us. Vive la similarite, eh? Though this does beg a deeper question of: if we don't like a year, can we bypass it and go onto the next without trawling through a whole twelve months? Sounds good to me, and no doubt our Nanny Government will pass a law about it at some stage. We live in hope.
So, today, I've watched meaningless jolly tv, which has cheered me up, had a nap, which has livened me up and tonight will be opening a bottle of good champagne to toast the New Year again - which will no doubt tank me up. It's good to have a plan.
Today's nice things:
1. Thinking of some low-key resolutions
2. Laughing at the French (sorry - but it is an unsung British activity, and they know we love them really - like a maiden aunt who doesn't fit in but who is family after all ... damn it)
3. Champagne.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Which include (a) watching the News more so I at least know something of what's going on in the world, thus lessening the possibilities of looking like a complete dork too often (Iraq? We're at war? ... Still? - no, really, that's just an example. Honest ...); (b) not pushing myself to do stuff too much and relaxing more; (c) doing more of what I enjoy and less of what I feel I have to do. After all, Lord H is the expert at (b) and (c), so I should be able to follow his example fairly easily. So, there you have it. Let's hope that by the end of 2007, I'm a completely informed layabout. Hmm, will there be a test?...
Oh, and Lord H found a news item on the Internet today which said that the French were revolting (please, no jokes ...) because they didn't want to have 2007, as they all thought 2006 had been okay and wanted to hang onto it for longer. Apparently, they held a march to protest the onward movement of time last night, shouting "No to 2007!" (or Non a 2007, more realistically?). I gather the enthusiasm wasn't quenched when 2007 actually turned up, as they then all started shouting "No to 2008!" Marvellous stuff - there's something so quirkily British about it that (a) I wish we'd thought of it first; and (b) it's good to know that the French are finally learning something from us. Vive la similarite, eh? Though this does beg a deeper question of: if we don't like a year, can we bypass it and go onto the next without trawling through a whole twelve months? Sounds good to me, and no doubt our Nanny Government will pass a law about it at some stage. We live in hope.
So, today, I've watched meaningless jolly tv, which has cheered me up, had a nap, which has livened me up and tonight will be opening a bottle of good champagne to toast the New Year again - which will no doubt tank me up. It's good to have a plan.
Today's nice things:
1. Thinking of some low-key resolutions
2. Laughing at the French (sorry - but it is an unsung British activity, and they know we love them really - like a maiden aunt who doesn't fit in but who is family after all ... damn it)
3. Champagne.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
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