Maloney revisited and the keyboard queen

I'm very happy to say that my literary gay thriller Maloney's Law is now available with this lovely brand-new cover at Amazon UK (where it briefly hit No 56 in the gay fiction charts earlier this week) and Amazon US. The blurb plus its credentials are:

Paul Maloney, a small-time private investigator from London, reluctantly accepts a case from his married ex-lover, Dominic Allen. Before he knows it, Paul finds himself embroiled in the dark dealings of big business and the sordid world of international crime. The deeper he pushes, the closer he comes to losing everything he holds dear.

Can he solve the mystery and protect those he loves before it's too late?

Maloney's Law was shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Prize 2006 (for novels set in London) and the Royal Literary Fund Scheme, and longlisted for the Betty Bolingbroke-Kent Novel Award.

The book has also just gained a 5-star review at Amazon which says the following:

"I don't read that many mystery novels but this one caught my attention and after reading a sample I had to read the entire book ... The plot was great and I couldn't turn my e-reader off."

That certainly put a smile on my face. I hope you enjoy the read.

Following on from that, The Bones of Summer (which is the sequel to Maloney's Law) has been chosen by a book group for their January read and they're enjoying it so far. Well, gosh.

Keeping to nice book news, gay short story Where You Hurt The Most gained a 5-star review at Goodreads, and my biblical short story collection The Betrayal of Birds reached No 82 in the Amazon UK Christian short story charts. So that was nice too.

Meanwhile, I've finally finished the first draft of the last story in the gay menage Delaneys series - so will need to get that edited over the next few days to see if it makes sense at all. Here's hoping, eh.

And I've booked myself into the UK GLBTQ Fiction Conference up in Manchester in July, so can't wait for that. Roll on the summer!

On the home front, I believe I'm at last getting well after about two weeks of cold/catarrh nastiness. I did go back to work on Wednesday last week, but that was a big mistake, and so I was off sick on Thursday. Start the year as you mean to go on, eh. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.

The good news is that for the first time ever in my life, an orchid under my care and attention has actually grown two more flowers. Heavens above, this is indeed the Christmas miracle. The trick - at least for me - appears to be to do nothing that the orchid experts tell you to do, but simply to ignore the plant entirely, at which point it produces blooms to prove to you it still exists. Ha. That's my answer then.

Stirred by such unexpected success, I have this weekend got myself back into cake-making and have produced a Lemon Flower Cake. I cheated with the flowers - the recipe calls for me to go into the garden, pick edible flowers and then sugar-coat and dry them, but if you think there's a hope in hell of me ever doing that, then it's time to think again ... so the decorations are shop-bought and all the tastier for it.

Ooh, and my lovely husband has worked out how to make our electronic keyboard function properly - so I can now play When the Saints Go Marching In, The Banks of the Ohio and By The Rivers of Babylon, all with one hand only. How happy the neighbours are! Believe me, these long winter evenings are simply going to fly by, my dears ...

Finally over at The Angry Anglican, I take issue once more with homophobia and discover the real meaning of the TARDIS. You have been warned.

Anne Brooke
Gay Fiction UK
Biblical Fiction UK
The Gathandrian Trilogy
Lori Olding Children's Author

Back to work …

Here’s today’s poem for you:

Meditation 224

A man with the face
of an angel

doesn’t really do it
for me.

Sometimes
a little darkness

seasons the mix
more perfectly.


Other writing news is that Cassie from the Joyfully Reviewed website gave The Bones of Summer a rather nice review and you can read it here. Thanks, Cassie – much appreciated.

Ah the pains of being back to work though. I have six zillion emails, several Freshers’ Week crises and an attitude problem. Same old same old then, eh. Ah well. I am attempting to rationalise the emails, keeping my head down and hoping for the end of the day to be soon, please God.

Had to get my smiley professional head on for the lunchtime Steering Group meeting though – it’s supposed to be our new style meetings so I don’t have to take many notes apparently, but we’ll see. I fear too much that I might miss something vital, as I’m never really sure what the vital things actually are.

Tonight, I’m at the University Book Group and we’re looking at Julian Fellowes’ glorious novel, Past Imperfect, so it should be fun. That is, if I haven’t run screaming to the hills by then. Coincidentally, I’m also reviewing it for Vulpes Libris tomorrow, so that’s almost perfect timing.

And thank goodness for the light relief of Would I Lie To You? on TV tonight. My week is utterly incomplete without David Mitchell.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. The Bones of Summer review
3. Books
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – sullenly to school …
The Bones of Summer – a very modern romance

Feet, books and paper

Here’s today’s meditation. We’re at the start of the Book of Joshua now, so it’s all change:

Meditation 177

After the death,
a list of actions

to take: welcome
distraction.

But, most of all,
a sense

of unfulfilment,
regret,

the need to write
something

across the emptiness
for the man

you’ve lost,
for the man

you must become.


My UK Amazon copies of The Bones of Summer have finally turned up so I’ve given one to Ruth at work and one to Steph in the Health Centre. I hope they enjoy the read. Steph tells me she now has her mother reading my books (thanks, Steph!) so I am slowly widening my reader base. As they say.

At work, I was straight in at the deep end with three hours (three hours - nightmare!!) of back-to-back meetings from 9.30am. Really, it’s not the best way to start a Monday. First off we had the rescheduled Steering Group, which is usually done over lunch so that was confusing enough in itself. After that, we had a new group which is looking at joining up all the campaigns we have so we all know what’s going on at any one time. Which makes sense. But I am now surrounded by paper and have to make something logical out of it all before my brain implodes. That could be soon …

Still, I managed to have a wonderful reflexology session over the lunch hour so I now feel more centred, hurrah. Or at least my feet do. Tonight, I’m at the University book group discussing Rose Tremain’s The Road Home. A book I enjoyed so it should be a good session.

And, back home, I discover that the birthday card I posted to a friend last week has been delivered to me as the Post Office have franked it on the wrong side and seem to have assumed that the address on the back of the envelope (ie my address) is the one they actually need. Eh?!? The address on the front is perfectly clear - why on earth couldn't they use it?... Still, I will attempt to put it in the post again tomorrow, and see what happens, deep deep sigh. Good job I posted it early then.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Delivering copies of The Bones of Summer
3. Reflexology
4. Book group.

Anne Brooke - bamboozled by post

Cancellations, False Colors and book groups

Look! I’m back reading my bible, so I must be getting better, thank the Lord – here’s this morning’s meditation:

Meditation 125

Add nothing
to what you see

and take nothing away.
Leave the earth

as you found it
and let your breath

be a whisper
on the wind

heard only by God.

At work, the boss is ill, poor chap (it’s not really been a good year so far for office illnesses …) so I’ve cancelled his meetings for today and hope he’s on the mend tomorrow. One of the meetings to fall by the wayside was our monthly Care Services Steering Group, so I’ve kept the sandwiches order (it’s too late to cancel them anyway) and will bring it up to our new offices as an informal get-together for whoever is around. UPDATE: Not many were around but hell we ate them anyway. What heroes we are.

Tonight, it’s the University book group, so I’m planning to go to that. We’re discussing the marvellous Kate Fox’s Watching the English which I loved, so hopefully they’ll be some lively debate there. You can never trust the English, after all – we’re a funny lot. UPDATE - it was wonderful. A really good discussion, made all the more interesting by the presence of an American lady in the group. Fascinating stuff indeed.

Talking of good reads, I must say Alex Beecroft’s GLBT historical romance False Colors is a total and absolute pleasure. The plot is marvellous and terribly exciting – and heck I don’t even usually go for seafaring novels, but there’s a perfect and very real level of detail there which meant I felt part of the whole scenario without being overwhelmed by it. The characters were gripping, well-rounded and very human – even the minor characters felt real. Plus the level and detail of sex was just right. I can thoroughly recommend it and look forward to more. In fact, I’m hoping to do a more in-depth review of this one, plus take a brief look at the new GLBT historical romance line from Running Press (from whence it comes) for a future Vulpes Libris article, so watch this space … In the meantime, I’m working on a short story with the theme, Lost and Found. It appears to be shaping up into a tale about mental health or the lack of it. Hmm, how I like a challenge, eh. Why can’t I write happy at all these days?...

Finally, I’m delighted to say that Every Day Poets will be publishing my poem, Blutherbung, sometime in the near future, so that’s lovely news, hurrah.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Informal sandwich chats
3. Books.

Anne Brooke - the queen of cancellations ...
Cancer Research Race for Life - where every penny counts!

Writers, visits and books

Had a really lovely time at last night’s Thorn in the Flesh book group, so thank you very much, Sue & Susanna and Co, for your very warm welcome, a great chat, fabulous food and fantastic flowers. All very much appreciated! It’s the icing on the cake of a writer’s life indeed.

Meanwhile, today’s meditation is rather darker than yesterday’s, I fear …

Meditation 99

From the high rocks
and lonely hills

see how the lion
licks up its prey.

Even seven altars
and all the bulls

and rams in the world
cannot turn it aside

from its slow devouring path.

At work, I’m catching up on minutes and trying to make my desk look tidy, professional and organised. Hmm, don’t wait up is my advice.

The lunch hour was spent in the stimulating company of the University Writers’ Group. Some great manuscripts to look at and I think they enjoyed my “Who, What, Where” game. Something to think about for their homework anyway.

On the way home, I popped into see Gladys and filled up that constantly emptying bird table – really, the birds in Godalming must be as huge as elephants now, though at least that will make them easier to spot. I tried a different tack this time too - instead of trying to talk or be super nice and jolly (no, it doesn't sit easy, really ...), I simply walked in, ignored her usual shouts of "go away!", sat down next to her and tried to be still and focus on good thoughts (no, that doesn't sit easy either, I know!). She did a little more shouting, then she quietened down and we just sat in silence for ten to fifteen minutes before I thought it was time to go. Now and then I glanced at her and smiled, and she looked puzzled but didn't comment. When I got up to leave, she actually blew a kiss at me and let me touch her hand (which she usually hates). I said I'd see her next time and waved as I left the room. She waved back. It felt like progress. I might try it again and see if it helps us. Maybe words sometimes just get in the way.

This evening, I've written an article I’ve been asked to submit to The View From Here Magazine. The subject that sprang to mind was the utter and vital necessity of writers actually reading, which is something I feel passionately about. All the time. I don't know whether they'll like it and it's probably way too long, but thank you, Mike, for asking me.

And I’d like to recommend Janet Davey’s marvellous novel, The Taxi Queue. The only thing that actually happens in it happens near the start, when two men meet in a taxi queue, one married and one not, and spend the night together (it's not described, but that's right for this novel). From there everything changes on the inside, although most things remain the same on the outside. But it’s a tour de force of shifting shadows, modernity and the mystery of ordinary people. Almost an English Murakami, I think. You should read it.

Ooh, and I have my Winter 2008 quarter royalties for the eBook of Thorn in the Flesh so I am now eleven dollars richer, which comes out at c£6.00, so thank you, Leslie of Bristlecone Pine Press for that! Every little makes a difference here in the shires, you know.

Today’s nice things:

1. Flowers from the book group
2. Poetry
3. University Writers
4. Quiet thoughts whilst visiting
5. Completing an article for submission
6. Books
7. Royalties.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - a feast of riches and silence

Literary frustration and a day at the races

Must admit to feeling more than a little frustrated today by the failure of Maloney’s Law to get into the shortlist in the gay mystery category of the US Lambda Awards. To be honest, I did have medium-high hopes for it, especially as the novel had already been shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Novel award, the Royal Literary Fund awards and longlisted for the Betty Bolingbroke-Kent award. Or maybe I’m just being too greedy?? Very probably … but there’s literary logic to my insanity; I had hoped that getting a mention might at least enable me to gain a few more sales as they appear (as is usual for me) to be so meagre. Double sigh. I still think it’s a damn good novel and was definitely worthy of a place. Ruddy Lambdas, eh – sod ’em is what I say …

Anyway, here’s this morning’s meditation:

Meditation 92

He stands
between the living
and the dead,

a small pot
of fire and incense
the only cure

for the coming death.
Too many questions
wear out

love’s strange logic.

However, news to soothe my bitter and troubled brow is that Cynic Magazine have published my comic short story, A Safe Bet (about a rather unusual day at the races) and that can be found here. Enjoy!

At work, I am snowed under with minutes I haven’t done, meetings I need to minute, papers I need to prepare and lots of little things I need to take time over. Plus the parental guidelines are beginning to haunt me. I suspect the timetable for those, and the Personal Tutors’ Handbook which is now dependent on the same process, will certainly shift further into the future at some point, triple sigh. Thank goodness for a reflexology session with Emily – I’m terribly on edge so definitely needed calming down big-time.

Oh and Carol brought in birthday cake and biscuits as her birthday was last week, hurrah, so all is not lost. Other good news is that I’ve done the final edits to Painting from Life for Eternal Press and I’ve posted off my contract for The Voyage to Bridge House Publishing for the Bible stories anthology. So heck it’s not all bad news and keening then, I suppose. Maybe I just need to up my Evening Primrose tablets for the next week or so to avoid my monthly suicidal bout??

Tonight it’s the University Book Group and we’re looking at Sally Varlow’s biography of The Lady Penelope. The author is coming in as well so that should be interesting. Heck, I’m sure she has more readers than I do, that’s for sure, dammit. I shall try not to froth at the mouth with furious jealousy and bite her ankles, well no more than normal anyway … UPDATE: what a very pleasant woman - much more easy-going than the usual brand of author (and I include myself in that description). And I was on my best behaviour and didn't froth, hurrah. At least on the outside. I am hero of the week just for that.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. A Safe Bet being published
3. Reflexology
4. The Painting from Life final edits
5. Posting the contract for The Voyage
6. The book group.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - smiling through rather gritted teeth ...

The invisible writer and putting the boot in

God, what a day. It's really been one moment of crap followed closely by another moment of crap. On the whole. And ooh look another will be joining it shortly. Oh what joy. I am seriously pissed off. I don't know but people have been getting on my wick today, and irritating me beyond measure. Is it Let's Piss Anne Off Day and I missed the national email telling me so?? Deeep sigh ...

Anyway, first off, the ruddy hospital send me another letter telling me to come for a scan in March. Well, I've only just had a ruddy scan last week - what do they want me to buy? A season ticket?? Are my bits just so incredibly fascinating that they must scan them on a monthly basis? Naturally I rang up to sort it out first thing this morning, and the woman on the other end of the line told me there must be something wrong for them to want to bring me in again so soon. Well, that made me feel cheerful, I can tell you. However, after a few moments of hyperventilating and wondering how many days (nay minutes) I might have left to live, she came back and said there was nothing untoward on my notes and it must just be an error. Well, phew. All's well that ends proverbially, but I could have done without the ride. To be honest.

I then attempted to squeeze out some words for Hallsfoot's Battle but Lordy it's a total struggle today and I can't seem to raise any interest in it at all, let alone inspiration. Whatever that is. I've stretched it out to just (barely) over 94,000 words but that's quite a stretch and I suspect what I've attempted to add will have to be ditched in the eventual edit. And some. Sigh.

My headache really began to build up when I hot-footed it to golf and of course it's half-term so (reasonably enough) there is a plethora of young people on the course. So it took so much longer to trudge round. Added to that the fact that I can no longer open my car boot and therefore cannot get to my golf trolley, which meant I had to lug the damn bag round myself. Totally exhausting, my dears, and my arm aches like anything now. It was gone 1pm before we actually finished.

I then leapt desperately into Godalming to do some shopping I've been putting off for weeks, and then found when I got back that I only had half an hour to eat lunch before going to my Alexander Technique lesson. This gave me just enough time to (a) eat, (b) add another 100 sorry-looking words to poor old Hallsfoot, and (c) ring the garage to ask if I could bring the car round so they could look at my boot lock problem. To which the answer was: yes, anytime up till 6pm and they'd be sure to look at it for me.

I then went and had my AT lesson - which was okay but I wasn't sure I was relaxed enough to take anything in. Let alone how to be relaxed. Even the two calming pills I've taken today aren't helping me there. After that, I got to the garage (Lord, but Guildford traffic is serious crap) at just before 4pm. Only to be told that all the technical people leave at 4pm and can't look at my car until next week anyway. Then why the hell didn't they tell me that on the bloody phone when I rang???!!? God, but sometimes I think I'm totally invisible and nobody pays me a blind bit of notice. Are my perfectly valid questions simply the distant sound of soft bleating to them?? But fear not - I expressed my disappointment in reasonable yet firm terms and did not (as I longed to do) fall screaming to the floor in the ruddy showroom and start biting the tyres of the nearest sales car. Maybe I should have done. The upshot is that I've booked an appointment for the car to have its boot opened in a couple of weeks' time when we're back from holiday - on a day that Lord H can take me in as I couldn't have hired an alternative car apparently until the end of March. God, but it's so bloody complicated. Till then, at least I know the bloody things in the bloody boot are safe, even if the ruddy car gets stolen. Deeeep sigh.

Meanwhile, back at the work ranch, I see the very sweet lady from the Arts Office has sent an email round to the University Book Group telling us that when we're making our choices of the next tranche of books to talk about, we can't choose self-published books, even though last year they looked at "Anne Brooke's self-published novel, A Dangerous Man, as she is a staff member." Self-published?? A Dangerous Man?? I don't think so. Or, at least, it's the first I've heard of it. I'm sure Flame Books would be delighted to find out that their whole company is in fact run by ... me. Even deeeeeper sigh. I sent back a (rather less reasonable, but hell it's lucky I can still put words together in any kind of calm order at all) reply saying that while half of my novels are self-published, A Dangerous Man actually isn't and so was never part of any special dispensation to the rules, and I wouldn't expect to be treated differently anyway. As I has said at the time. Though in actual fact, it's also true to say that all of my available novels bar one are now commercially published, whether by paperback or eBook, and the next one off the press will also be a commercial production. Not that any of this will matter of course, as it now appears that anything I say is disregarded as random witterings or thought not important enough to remember - good to know my invisibility continues to widen its remit - at least something is working in Anne's World then, if only in a negative way ... In the meantime, it would be terribly refreshing if the facts about something I said or produced were actually listened to or regarded as remotely memorable - just once in my ruddy life!!...

In addition to all this, I've just had to speak to the middle neighbour (always tricky at the best of times) who somehow seems rather more tricksy than usual. He said something that particularly irritated me (and believe me my irritation levels are off the scale today, as you can probably tell) and instead of saying something jolly or soothing as I usually do (which is I know what I'm expected as a woman to do and which again he doesn't listen to, as a matter of course), I just didn't reply and stared at him. I think that took him by surprise, and I managed to escape earlier than anticipated, thank goodness. Any more conversation with people of any shape or form and I might just have to punch them, scream loudly and run away. God but that seems like a plan.

And here's today's meditation - the writing of which frankly seems a damn long time ago. Really I am pissed off with the whole of this day already and I want no more of it. I'm tired, that damn headache won't let me go, nobody listens to a word I say, I have the housework to face and I can't even open a bottle of wine any more to take the edge off. Bloody hell.

Meditation 74

The land breathes riches
for six years

and sleeps across your senses
for the seventh.

What you have not planted
will nourish you

and what you release
from your hand

will lighten your weight
upon the earth,

help you to dream again.


But do not fear, people - astonishingly, all is not lost. At the end of all this sludge and existential misery, Lord H has come back from work (hurrah!) and allowed me to pummel his chest in order to get rid of some of the angst - an essential duty which really should be performed by every husband. And I do feel a bit better now. Thank the Lord. Oh and I've had my third chocolate of the day - so my insulin levels will be crap but at least it raises the happy hormones ...

Today's nice things (um ...):

1. Chocolate
2. Lord H
3. Chocolate
4. Lord H.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - if you blink you'll miss it ...

Books, feet and haibuns

First off, here’s this morning’s meditation poem:

Meditation 51

The things I recall:
corn crushed to nothing,

olive oil, bread,
salt for preservation

and the extraordinary lack
of honey.

Where life should be,
death lies waiting,

barely noticed
amongst yeast and memory.


Hmm, ideal musing indeed for what appears to be Blue Monday, as it’s supposed to be the most depressing day of the year today. Seems not too bad so far, but heck there’s still time for various disasters to develop …

However, as an antidote to the blues, the lovely Sue from the Health Centre is going to be reading Thorn in the Flesh at her March book group and I’ve been invited to attend – so thanks for that, Sue, and I hope I can make the date.

And there are other exciting literary announcement too. Charles at Ink Sweat and Tears webzine has been kind enough to publish my lesbian haibun, The Secret Smell of Lemons today, so do pop along and have a read. Thanks, Charles! Added to that is the fact that Haruah Magazine have accepted two of my Meditation Poems for publication and are also interested in reviewing A Stranger's Table and my cup indeed runneth over. Thank you, Rochita - I really appreciate that too.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the AUA conference information has turned up – rather earlier than usual, if memory serves me – so I can have fun working out what I might be able to do at the sessions. If I can understand what the titles mean, that is.

This lunchtime, I had another blissful reflexology session with Emily – so that chilled me out for the afternoon. Which was greatly needed as it’s term-time once more and therefore a 5.30pm finish. Ah it’s that last half-hour that breaks the back, you know … Mind you, I had to walk back to the office after the session in the pouring rain, so that took the edge off it somewhat. Sigh.

And tonight, I’m leading the University Book Group in a discussion of Tania Hershman’s short story collection, The White Road and Other Stories. I’ve had to fiddle my approach a bit, as I’m not sure whether they’ll have been able to get hold of copies as I know there’s been an issue with the printing of the second edition – but I’ve tried to cover for all eventualities by thinking up questions I can ask if none of them have read it and questions I can ask if they have. It’s all done by smoke and mirrors, as ever. UPDATE - it was wonderful. We had a great discussion - even the man who didn't like short stories, science or magic realism said it made him think and widened his reading horizons. Plus they asked me to read out Heavy Bones (as the general group favourite in the book) in my usual Essex accent which I did and they loved the story even more. Ah, I knew my accent would come in handy one day, you know ... Those of them who didn't manage to get hold of the book are now going to do so and read it, and they're more open to looking at short stories again because of it so a great success and thank you to Tania for writing such a great collection.

At home, I’m planning to do as little as possible, though I will watch the final part of Hunter. Lord H thought yesterday’s sudden revelation of the identity of the criminal at the very end of Part One would have been better if it had just been hinted at, so there would have been more to speculate about for tonight’s denouement. Really, he should be a drama consultant – he’s definitely got the gift.

And this week’s hero (by a majority opinion we’re only allowed one this week) is Barack Obama – mainly because Andrea thinks he’s truly wonderful. Which I’m sure he is, of course – but it’s politics and I’m sorry but I can’t get hugely excited about it. The cynical side of me says give him a couple of years and you won’t tell the difference from the last one (hush my mouth!), but I appreciate I’m a lone voice! Again.

I've also just finished reading Fiona Sampson's utterly stunning poetry collection, Uncommon Prayer. Frankly it's wonderful - a rich and intricate layering of humanity and our relationship with the world of the senses. If you read anything this year, please read this one. Sometimes you have to think and focus on what she's saying but really it's worth it every time. A tour-de-force of poems.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Thorn being in a book group schedule
3. Reflexology
4. The University book group
5. TV
6. My haibun being published
7. Two of my Meditation Poems being accepted
8. An offer to review A Stranger's Table
9. Uncommon Prayer.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - thoroughly enjoying the day

Lazy Sunday, lunch mysteries and book group prep

A lovely lie-in today, which was great - always good to snuggle up under the duvet on a cold winter morning. In fact we were so lazy that we were only just in time to eat breakfast before we had to think about lunch. And today we decided to give ourselves a treat and go out for a pub lunch - although this did prove rather more complicated than expected. Our first choice, The Seahorse at Shalford, has according to a nifty piece of web research by Lord H been taken over by aliens and is apparently not as good as it once was. Ruddy shame, eh. Why does this always happen? Just when you think you've found a pub you like which does decent food, the people running it up and leave. Sigh ...

I suggested our second choice of The Stag at Eashing, but apparently the same fate has overtaken that one too. Is there a conspiracy, I ask? The plot thickens, Carruthers ... We scoured our brains for somewhere else to go, and eventually came up with The Cyder House at Shackleford, as I visited it a couple of years back with work people, and it seemed pretty good then. So we rolled up at 12noon, as we like to eat early and leave. Crowds aren't us, you know. Anyway, it was fine though personally I could have done with the roast lamb being better cooked and more abundant, but the veg and pudding were top-notch. Mmm ... The only thing about it (apart from the staff being incredibly young - do their mothers know they're out??...) was that the waiter we had at the start had a disconcerting habit of walking away from our table and shouting the last word I'd spoken to him in a jolly tone to the bar staff. So when he said lunch (my lamb and Lord H's sausages) would take about 15 minutes to cook, I joked about the need to catch the pig - at which point, he strolled away, saying "pig!" delightedly. Then when I commented that the glass he'd brought Lord H's beer in was quite sweet (and believe me it was), he walked away, and yelled "sweet!" at the man behind the bar. I was actually wondering if I could make him say a whole sentence, word by word, if I played my cards right, but then he disappeared and didn't come back. Perhaps the manager decided to strangle the poor lad? Or is this some strange game they play with off-worlders in Shackleford parts? Ah, it's a mystery indeed.

And, talking of off-worlders, I was rather started yesterday evening when I was doing my 20 minute meditation session in the bedroom and Lord H popped his head around the door to say that dinner would be "twenty-five of your earth minutes" before disappearing again. I think his cover is indeed blown, and I do wonder what 25 minutes translates out to on Lord H planet. Naturally enough, I am too polite to ask. Is he planning a trip home by shuttlecraft at some stage? Best get the gravity-enhanced cheese out of the freezer once more then.

While I'm on the subject of meditation, here's today's poem:

Meditation 33

What will you do
when the door

is finally opened?
You with your arms full

of necklaces, rings,
fine linen,

goats’ hair cloth,
purple thread and spices.

Where will you hide yourself
and who on earth

can reach you?


For the rest of the day, I've been putting together some notes for the upcoming University Book Group discussion on Tania Hershman's The White Road and Other Stories. I've really enjoyed preparing for that - it seems a long time (well, about 20 years or so, if you're asking) since I've made notes on a book and it's great. I've got a bio of Tania, some quotes either from the author or from reviewers, a brief explanation of flash fiction (as I'm not sure the group will have come across that or not) and a list of eight questions based on issues or text from the stories throughout the collection. An interesting mix of science, religion, motherhood, the weather and racial awareness. Amongst other things. So hopefully there should be something there for everyone. I've taken into account the fact that some of the group may not be able to get hold of the book before we meet on 19 January as the UK 2nd edition is still going through the reprinting process - and in that scenario (probable), I trust I've given them enough to chew on so they'll want to get hold of it afterwards anyway. We small press authors have to stick together, you know ...

Tonight, I'm hoping to watch the Thunderbirds programmes (Scott was my first love after all ...) and then there's the latest Sarah Waters Victoriana-lesbiana-extravaganza, Affinity, on, which we obviously can't miss. Not that I think Affinity is her best book at all, but I'm sure it'll be worth a viewing.

This week's haiku:

In winter bleakness
haiku fragments haunt my head.
They fail to warm me.


Today's nice things:

1. A lie-in
2. Lunch out - eventually
3. Poetry
4. Book Group prep
5. Haikus
6. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - the scourge of waiters everywhere

Plumbing, meetings and books

Miraculously the second water leak was mended last night (hurrah!) so that’s one problem in the flat solved, which leaves only the original problem of the immersion tank. And of course the mice. Sigh.

So, this morning I am back at week for the last full week before Christmas, while Lord H nobly stays behind in the flat and fields the drying company. I do hope they can dry out the neighbour’s electrics so at least one day soon he’ll be able to turn on his bathroom/hallway/kitchen light circuit again. UPDATE: the company have installed a second dehumidifier and an industrial fan in the neighbour's flat to dry out the walls and will be back in January to see how it's worked. In the meantime he's allowed to turn the lights on so it won't be a completely dismal Christmas for him, thank goodness ... We also need to hear from the original plumber about whether we can ever have hot water, but let’s not get too over-confident, eh. Lord only knows what will go wrong next …

At work, I have ploughed through a tranche of emails and caught up with a flurry of photocopying. It’s actually nice to do something normal for a change, rather than “fire-fighting” at home all the time. Though – to be honest – this afternoon’s Steering Group meeting was a tad too long for my tastes. It is the last one before Christmas after all – I was hoping for an earlier finish and fewer minutes to write up. And nobody opened the mince pies I’d brought along either! Still, at least that means I can spirit them back home and there’ll be more for Lord H and myself. And the mice of course. Who now appear to have learnt how to get into cupboards and ferret about in boxes. Perhaps I’ll give up trying to store things securely and just eat the little rodents instead. It may be the best option.

Tonight, it’s the University Book Group and we’re discussing The Diving Bell and the Butterfly – not a book I particularly enjoyed, but thank goodness it was short. Still, I’m looking forward to the discussion – it’s always very thought-provoking.

Oh and here’s this morning’s meditation piece:

Meditation 24

Your breath
is a shadow on the wind.

Take off
the pearls and gold

you wear
like a shield to save you.

Walk slowly
into the sun,

treading a path
you do not know.

I've also just finished Jodi Picoult's Second Glance - a modern take on the ghost story. I enjoyed it, though I don't think it's one of her utter best and towards the end it was way too overwrought for my tastes. That said, there's some astonishingly poetic and rich writing in it which is totally gripping - so I hope she continues in that vein. It gives it a magical feel appropriate to the genre.

Today’s nice things:

1. One leak mended
2. The book group
3. Poetry.
4. Books.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - back at the coalface ...

Monday gloom and the book group

Am utterly suffused by Monday gloom today, groan. Maybe it’s the time of year. Or (more likely) probably just me. Double groaning. Am so bad today in fact that I am barely able to communicate with the outside world at all and have taken to opening my eyes wide and sighing as a means of conveying the angst. Words being a concept entirely beyond me at the moment. Somebody pass me the smelling salts. The Quiet Life pills and the Rescue Remedy just ain’t working, dammit.

Anyway, I have struggled through the working day by clamping firmly down on the need to run screaming through the campus and by focusing on the shadowy complexities of last week’s minutes instead. Which are many and varied. Triple sigh.

And I’d only just managed to work out some headings for that particular delight (working out the headings of a set of minutes gives me a false illusion of control, and really I’d be nothing without my false illusions …) when I had to go and minute the monthly steering group meeting as well. At least that’s more familiar territory and I know roughly what might happen. Less to write down too, thank goodness. But I really don’t like having two sets of minutes to deal with – it feels as if they’re weighing down my head and I’ll never be able to see over the top of them.

In the meantime, Ruth has very kindly put together my new document holder for me, which means I don’t have to balance my old one on top of two reams of paper. Mind you, it took a lot of brute force and cursing, and we quickly abandoned the instructions. Made no sense to anyone. Anyway, I’ve tightened up the hinges and it’s in the right position now. So hopefully my neck/shoulder problems will be better. Hey, we live in hope.

Mind you, I’ve managed to sneak in a Starbucks decaff cappuccino special and that has been total bliss. I think it’s something to do with the foam. It’s the only thing getting me through the day, slowly slowly …

Tonight, it’s the University book group and we’re looking at Per Petterson’s wonderful novel, Out Stealing Horses. My favourite of the group choices so far, so I’m looking forward to seeing what other people think. And who knows – by then I may even have worked out how to communicate with other human beings again. Hmm, don’t wait up is my advice.

Once home, I’m planning to slump in front of the TV, though I fear there will be some ironing to do. Then again, when is there not?

Today’s nice things:

1. Illusions of control
2. Starbucks coffee
3. The book group
4. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - battling through the day ...

Reviews, meetings and the Queen of Mean

Had a lovely email from a reviewer of Thorn in the Flesh this morning who is halfway through the said work and was sweet enough to email me saying I am obviously “ridiculously talented” and why aren’t I better known? Ah, it’s a mystery, Jay – I think it might be to do with my red hair and Essex accent, both attributes being pretty low down in the authorial gene pool, ho ho. Either that or when I speak to my agent, the poor man has trouble remembering my name. Anyway, your comments have much cheered me on this bleak Monday so thank you for that! And I think that might even become my new strapline: Ridiculously talented, but nobody knows who she is … Hey, it works for me.

Meanwhile, at work, poor Ruth is off sick today, so I had to rush around sorting out hardship loans on her behalf. I only hope I’ve got it right and people get the money they have applied for. I am reassured however by the extra checks Finance will no doubt give it now they know it’s me. And I hope Ruth gets better soon – it’s the week of Pirates of Penzance at Haslemere Hall and the first night is tomorrow. It’s no show without Ruth, you know – she’s the singing star of the office. Lord H and I are going on Thursday.

I am also rejigging meetings that people can’t make and squeezing them into minuscule gaps where possible. I can only hope we have rooms on campus where I can put them once the dates turn up, but I’m unable to think that far ahead at the moment … On top of all that, I rushed around some more at a virtual level in order to redo the timetable for Wednesday’s Open Day, as one of my people has dropped out of the rota. However, Health and Counselling have saved the day – thank you, thank you! – as ever, so I am hugely grateful to them.

Lunchtime found me minuting the Steering Group and hoping that nobody drank all the water. We’re in a special room on campus at the moment where jugs of water cannot be delivered (no, don’t ask …) so we have to pay for bottled water, groan. Therefore I purloined all the bottled water left over from the last meeting and filled my school satchel to take it along to this one, thus reducing our actual water order. I am indeed the Queen of Mean, but hey we’re paying for all this. And here at the cutting edge of education, every penny counts. Christmas? Bah, humbug … Don’t turn the heating on – just put on a jumper and shiver, and all that jazz.

I have therefore spent the afternoon typing up the minutes and trying to look efficient. An expression that takes a great deal of emotional commitment, you know. After work, I’m off to the University Book Group to give my comments on Colm Toibin’s The Blackwater Lightship. As they are wholly negative, I foresee a lively discussion, at the very least. UPDATE: it was great and very lively - although none of us rated the book very much, we all disliked it for different reasons. Fabulous!

Finally, another important day today:
Time since the submission of The Gifting to mainstream publishers with no response: 5 months. Only one month to go to the six-month celebration then …

Today’s nice things:

1. My undiscovered “ridiculous” talents – whatever they may be!
2. Living it up as the Queen of Mean (Water Division)
3. The book group.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - it's ridiculously talented, you know!

Meetings, hospitals and book groups

A sharp autumnal day today. I really needed my hat and fingerless gloves, in spite of the sun’s deceiving brightness. Though actually I do rather enjoy autumn. Indeed the season has most definitely turned towards winter, so the bad news is cold weather, but the good news is no more nasty insects, hurrah. Not that there have been that many of the latter this year, a miracle for which I am truly grateful.

This morning I have caught up with the last-minute panics about Freshers’ Week, and am still trying to thrash some of them out. Double dammit. I do like to feel in control at this stage (a false illusion, but a nice one), and this year I really don’t. I also had a phone call from the hospital admissions department asking me if I wanted to be transferred from the consultant I saw about my operation as she’s not free till next March to actually do anything. Um, yes please. I really can’t wait till the spring, dammit. So I said I didn’t mind who did the operation as long as they were (a) alive, and (b) sober, and am now awaiting their response. Mind you, once they’ve seen the extent of my notes, I guess it’s whoever draws the short straw, poor them …

I also nipped over to the new English department to see where I’m supposed to be taking the University Writers’ Group tomorrow, as it’s all change in the new regime of course. I hope I can keep up with the pace. And gosh, that room’s not easy to find. Lovely though it is. I got completely lost in several different buildings, but got there in the end, with the aid of a compass and some very sturdy boots. I have sent directions to the gang, in the hope that some writers at least might turn up tomorrow.

This lunchtime, I took the minutes for the Steering Group and attempted to look (a) like a professional, and (b) as if I knew what I was doing. Neither of which are true, of course. We all tried to gaze with calmness and logic (ho ho) at Freshers’ Week, but really it’s impossible to know what it will be like until it’s here. Every year is different. We’d probably get more sense out of interpreting animal entrails and the flight of birds. Hmm, there’s an idea for next year’s preparation anyway …

Mind you, I was really pleased when the Health Centre doctor said how much she’d loved Maloney’s Law, which she took on holiday with her, and she was very much looking forward to my next one. I just have to persuade a publisher – any publisher! – to take it, eh. But so nice to have good feedback – thank you, Vicky.

This afternoon, I attempted to write up the minutes and keep my head down. Much the best approach really. Tonight, I’m planning to go to the University Book Group and discuss Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Heck, I’ve even remembered to bring my copy with me. Mind you, it will be a desperate wrench not to be able to flee screaming to the hills at 5.30pm from the office and (shock! horror!) to have to stay on campus till 6.30pm/7pm-ish, but I’ll do my best to survive … I soooo desperately long to be home. UPDATE: it was fabulous. I really really enjoyed it - lovely to be able to discuss books with such a great bunch of people. And with no pressure on me. Double hurrahs. Am already looking forward to the next one.

And I can relax in front of New Tricks on TV this evening once I’m back at base – bliss.

Today’s nice things:

1. True autumnal weather
2. Good reactions to Maloney
3. Book Group
4. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website