Rejections, career thoughts and a literary sex-fest

Was rather sent reeling by a rejection by the last publisher I'd sent my poetry chapbook, Salt and Gold, to yesterday. I don't know why - I'd fully expected to be rejected, as my poetry collections always are. So I don't know why I was so horribly upset but I was. God knows why I even bother thinking of commercial publication for my poetry anyway. I mean they only sell out when I'm paying the money raised to charity, as in my first collection, Tidal. My second collection, A Stranger's Table, sold the grand total of eleven copies and the rest I gave away to friends as presents. One writing friend (so really there's no excuse and I'd never dream of doing this, ever ...) even said she'd buy a copy and give me the money later, and then after a couple of days she returned it, saying she'd read it, had thoroughly enjoyed the collection but she'd finished with it now and didn't need to pay. Lordy, no wonder I actually have very little confidence, no matter how much I walk the walk. As it were. But really, I should have learnt my lesson from all that. I think what I'll do from now on is simply self-publish my poetry collections online, and then people can ignore them or read them as they fancy. Without me having to put myself through the mill like this. It's not pleasant, believe me.

All this trying to find a way through the poetry minefield has reminded me that I started writing fiction in 2000, and said then that I'd give it ten years of trying to find a commercial publisher before having a very big rethink of the attempt at a writing vocation I've been trying to follow. Well, it's 2010 next year, and maybe I have to start preparing myself to tackle that rethink. Not that I haven't found a commercial publisher - I have. Three times. Four if you count the eBooks. But none of my previous publication "successes" have actually been at all successful. By any measure. Yes, several people do enjoy what I produce - and I'm hugely grateful to them for that. But I've never made any money from A Dangerous Man at all, Maloney's Law is selling very poorly and a couple of key gay reviewers have really disliked it which I don't think has helped, and the eBooks of Pink Champagne and Apple Juice and Thorn in the Flesh are also selling poorly. Or, more truthfully, not selling at all.

I do have the upcoming release of The Bones of Summer in June, but I'm trying not to be too hopeful about it as previous experience tells me that - for whatever reason, and to be honest I don't know what that reason is - I'm not as popular a writer as other gay fiction authors, and I simply can't keep up with their sales or readership levels. Meanwhile, there continues to be no news on the sale or otherwise of The Gifting. For that book, I plan to send it out one more time only over the summer, to a small publisher. If that fails, for my own sanity (not to mention Lord H's), I need to draw a line under it, self-publish it, if only for my own sense of completion, and then move on. As and when that scenario occurs, I also believe it to be time to part company from my agent - I simply can't take the agonised half-hope that by default having an agent brings, alongside the terrible sense of gloom when reality sets in.

With all that in mind, last night I went through my list of favourite websites and blogs of successful writers I keep on my system and deleted those who I don't think are doing or will do me any good, or who are making me feel even more despairing about the writing life (through, I hasten to add, no fault of their own) than I need to be. So if anyone out there discovers they've lost a blog follower, I apologise in advance if it's me, wish you all good luck in your career but I suspect you don't need the support as much as I need the space.

Anyway. Enough. To today. I had a lovely lie-in and didn't get up till 8.30am. Which is an extra two hours snoozing, hurrah. I then added some more words to that key battle scene in Hallsfoot's Battle, which brings me to the higher echelons of 116,000 words. I have a rough idea as to how the rest of the scene will go until the final victory arrives, but I'll take it slowly and see how it pans out. Oh, and here's this morning's meditation:

Meditation 122

What is lost
can a second time
be remade.

Damaged stone
can be recut
and vanished words

rewritten.
All through everything
you have done

or failed to do –
the tears at night
and the dim courage

of dawn,
God has never
ceased to listen.

Which somehow, bearing in mind the day's thoughts, probably makes sense. Of some kind or other. This afternoon, I popped up to the hospital as the neighbour isn't too good at the moment and had another chat with Gisela who was also there. Poor Henry though - I have a feeling he was rather overwhelmed by the amount of chat and general noise G and I can produce, but hell that's Surrey Gals for you, eh! I also took the opportunity to visit Tesco's next door to the hospital on the way out and bought lasagne and garlic bread and birdseed. Well, you have to keep those essentials in stock always, you know. It's astonishing I didn't buy chocolate really, but in my defence we do seem to have vast quantities of chocolate in the flat right now.

Tonight, I'm hoping to get round to watching my video of Boy Meets Girl, then there's Ashes to Ashes and I absolutely must video Compulsion, the bonkbuster sex-fest with Ray Winstone that's on the other side. Lordy I can't miss that. I would say it's because it's an update of that wonderful Jacobean tragedy, The Changeling, which is so utterly my period, dahlings. But that would be lying - hell, it's got sex in it. What more could you want??

Today's nice things:

1. Taking steps to alleviate pain
2. A lie in
3. Writing Hallsfoot
4. Poetry
5. TV.

Anne Brooke
Race for Life - supporting Cancer Research

Butterflies, birds and Basildon Park

Another day in the country today, though a different part of it, hurrah - but I did manage to get today's meditation poem squeezed in before we set off:

Meditation 121

Beyond the river
everything crystallises
into the possibility
of truth.

Flesh and bone
solidify dreams
and what is written once
will be written again

in fire.

Then it was a quick turn-round and an equally quick coffee and chat with the downstairs neighbour's daughter (hello, Gisela!) before making our way to Dinton Pastures Country Park in Berkshire. Which took rather longer than it should as we, somewhat foolishly, decided that the quickest route would be through Reading. Hmm. My advice is if you ever at any point in your life think that the quickest route to anywhere (apart from Reading itself) is through Reading, then think again. The signs are crap and the roads are worse and, thanks to my less than top-notch navigational skills, we actually ended up in Oxfordshire. In the Chilterns. Ho hum. However, the plus point is that, due to my complex set of detours, we did spot a red kite, which is our first one for this year, hurrah! So every cloud, etc etc ... And when we finally got to Dinton Pastures itself, it was a grand place indeed. With loos, which is always vital, I feel. Rather too many dogs for my liking though (I don't mind dogs - well, no, actually, I don't like them at all, but that doesn't fit in with my next phrase - but I couldn't eat a whole one) but still a very pleasant walk. We spotted some sandmartins and common terns (both new for this year in this country, though we did spot terns in Istanbul earlier in the year), and several orange tip butterflies. I love orange tip butterflies. Small and white and it looks as if their wingtips have been dipped into marmalade. Wonderful.

We then drove (with roughly equal amounts of confusion) to Basildon Park. Lunch was fabulous - full-on roast turkey followed by treacle tart and custard at very reasonable prices, though we did seem to enter the restaurant via the back passage (as it were), which confused everyone. Especially us. We then did a quick tour around the house - the Octagon Room is amazing and the Library is very cosy indeed. Though Lord H did point out that they didn't have as many books as we do - which may indeed be true but theirs are more neatly filed at least. He also stood in front of a picture showing a Classical soldier holding his headgear and opined: "Ah, the typical portrait of a soldier admiring his helmet ..." - which forced me to exit quickly from the room in question before hysteria set in. Thankfully, the rest of the folks around us seemed to take it seriously and nodded in agreement, but I fear that once word gets round, we may have our National Trust membership forcibly removed. I'm already known as the Woman Who Laughs at Jelly Moulds (found in every NT house across the land, sigh ...), so we may indeed be in injury time. Honestly, I can't take Lord H anywhere twice. I daren't ...

Anyway, moving rapidly on, and suitably fortified by essential English stodge (where would we be as a nation without it?), we set out on the full Park walk. Hmm, I wish now I'd taken the more genteel Park Walk. All I'll say is that was a bloody long four miles, Carruthers ... I was beginning to lose hope of ever seeing civilisation again, though at least the bluebells were good (though not quite as stunning as Mother's Essex bluebell wood offering). My feet are now utterly exhausted, dahlings. Still, I'm sure it's good for me. Isn't that my exercise ration for the month?? Oh and the joy about Basildon Park is they have a really, really good second hand book room where you can pick up whatever you like for £1. Wonderful. I purchased two books I've been meaning to read for a while, so that's saved me some money at least.

Tonight, I might do some more to Hallsfoot's Battle, but I'm not going to stress out about it too much. If it happens, it happens, eh. And here's this week's haiku:

At the division
of the paths, the wind blows through.
Hedges, fields, hills, sky.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Birds
3. Butterflies
4. Sunday lunch at Basildon
5. Books
6. Hallsfoot - if I get to it
7. Haiku.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - taking the slow road, whether she likes it or not
Race for Life - help support people with cancer

A day in the country and a fashion disaster

Lord H and I have spent a day in the country with Mother, having the Easter I was too ill to enjoy when it was actually here. If you see what I mean. Mind you, I got up early enough to be able to write today's meditation piece, so here it is:

Meditation 120

The words I read
tell me of poisonous snakes,
scorpions, desert, hardships
and time,

then rivers bringing forth wheat,
barley, grapes, figs,
pomegranates, olives
and honey

but today their meaning
slips over my skin,
like an uncaught memory
for that woman I used to be.

I find I quite like list poems these days - they're very grounding. And as my head is mainly somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling most of the time, then grounding - of any kind - is good.

Anyway, it was also good to catch up with the Poison Poppet and Mr Grumpy once more (hello, Mother, if you're reading this, as you know appear to have found my blog, arrgghh!!...), Gawd bless 'em both. The day's huge, huge embarrassment - and indeed I hardly dare type this for the shame it will bring upon my head - is that when I arrived at the Essex Home for Crazed Folk, I realised that my mother and I were wearing exactly the same trousers - the blue cord pair from the Edinburgh Woollen Mill. Not only that but we discovered that when we'd bought them, we'd also bought the purple pair as they were on a special half-price offer. Lord preserve us. For nearly 46 years, I have based my whole existence on the absolute truth that I am nothing AT ALL like my mother, IN ANY WAY whatsoever. Now I find that we're virtually twins, except that I'm at least two foot taller than she is. Oh, the shame ... Truly, I fear I will never live this one down.

In the afternoon, when I was sure nobody would be around to see my obvious fashion disaster, we had a rather pleasant walk in the local bluebell wood. The smell from the flowers was gorgeous and there were huge numbers of them - literally a proverbial carpet of blue. Lovely. There was one point though when we caught sight of a rather fierce looking dog, with no obvious owner in sight - so naturally we sent Lord H on ahead to see if he'd be eaten. Husbands can be very useful, you know ... Anyway, the dog legged it, so we were able to pursue our rather Jane Austen-like walk unscathed. Phew.

Meanwhile, at the Crazed Folks' Home, the house martins are back and beginning to nest too, so that's good to see. Apparently they didn't turn up last year for some reason, but have now returned in full force, so Mother has messes on the window and early morning shrieking to look forward to once more - how like the home life of our own dear Queen indeed. Ooh, and I must say a huge thank you to PP and Mr G for generous contributions (offline) to our upcoming Race for Life charity event, which is slowly growing and now stands at £185. It would be great to make our £250 target, but I'm hopeful as there's still about a month to go. As a reminder, it's for Cancer Research, so a very good cause, if anyone out there is so inclined. For which thank you.

Tonight, once safely home, we have sat fascinated and terrified (at the same time) in front of a stonkingly good episode of Primeval. Great stuff indeed - in spite of the fact that it was very like Jurassic Park in lots of ways. We also felt it probably had enough going for it to be a series-end two parter, but it was not to be, alas. Still, great stuff for Saturday night viewing and we hope for more like that, please.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Catching up with the old folk
3. Bluebells
4. House martins
5. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - at the cutting edge of something, but Lord knows what

Golf, war, and a dark gritty read

Couldn't really get a grip on today's Bible reading, I have to say. Usually something hits me fairly instantly but this morning it took a while, and I'm still not so sure about the piece I eventually dragged out of my head. Anyway, here it is:

Meditation 119

In front, a land
of corn, wine, olive oil,

and behind you
memories of war.

You walk the narrow line
between gift and submission

and wonder
when the first, false step

will bring down the clouds.

Oh and welcome to May. In the real world, that is. In the World According to Anne's Watch, it's actually the 31st April, so I'm in a kind of no-woman's land at the moment. Same old, same old, eh. I will have to rely on Lord H putting me into the right time zone when he comes back from work. It's way too complicated for me to do it myself.

Meanwhile, there's a couple of good slices of writing news, hurrah - first off, Laughter Loaf ezine has accepted my flash fiction piece, Woman on Top, for future publication. And Grey Sparrow Press will be publishing a couple of my meditation poems in the autumn. Always nice to get good news indeed.

I managed to get into the mid-levels of the 115,000 word range in Hallsfoot's Battle before golf, so I'm obviously having a focused day today. I'm into the final battle showdown now, and though there's more to come in the closing chapters, that'll about wrap up the action of it. So I should get into the 120,000 word range in total, which is where I wanted to be. Roughly. And all that just has to explain why I did so well with golf today. The best I've ruddy played all year, I think (double hurrahs with bells on!), and Marian was on top form too. And, yes, I did manage to beat her, but not by much. Plus the weather was great and it was just a fantastic day to be out on the greens. Lovely.

This afternoon, I've enjoyed my Alexander Technique lesson - apparently I'm looking taller, so that can only be a good thing. Well, I do try to remember how to stand and sit and stuff in between lessons, and do those back relaxation exercises, so something should be working. Mind you, I can't go again for three weeks, due to holidays etc, so by the time I go again, I'll no doubt be back to my previous height ... Ah well.

I must also say how much I've thoroughly enjoyed Clare London's gay crime/relationship novel, Freeman. Fantastic writing - dark and rich and gritty (just how I like my men, eh ...) - and a main character to die for. Freeman is hugely intense and focused and very much a product of the shadowy world he lives in. The twists and turns in the plot are excellently done, and the character himself has many secrets, some of which are revealed at the end and some of which are not. I like that - the reader doesn't have to know everything. The slow-burn romance is good too. It reminded me in some ways (if I can be so bold - hell, I'm going to, so you'll just have to put up with it ...) of A Dangerous Man, so if you liked that, you'll love Freeman. A definite recommended read. Don't be put off by the cover - which, to my mind, doesn't quite fit the sheer kick-ass punch of the story.

Tonight we have a whole plethora of TV, my dears. What is a girl to do?? I think I'll watch Have I Got News for You? and Reggie Perrin, and video Boy Meets Girl ( the new gender-swap comedy which looks quite watchable) and Pushing Daisies. With luck that'll give me something to gaze at over bank holiday, as there's (I warn you now!) sod all on TV on Sunday night, sigh ...

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Flash fiction and poetry acceptances
3. Writing Hallsfoot
4. Golf
5. Alexander Technique
6. Freeman
7. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - going for the dark, rich and gritty options, always

Author of the Month

Back to normal prayer time today - though it has to be said that my prayer time is rarely, if ever, normal - so here's today's meditation:

Meditation 118

When you open your eyes
you see houses

filled with good things
you did not buy,

wells you did not dig,
vineyards and olive trees

you did not plant:
all the echo and life

of another displaced people,
another lost nation.

Meanwhile, much to my surprise, the plumber actually came back yesterday and finished the job, hurrah! So I fear I must eat humble pie with cream at my earlier cynicism and despair this week. Still, I should be used to that by now, eh. And it all looks wonderful - ye gods, we even have a working thermostat, which we haven't had for 16 years so I can foresee many fun-filled evenings with me turning it up because I'm cold and Lord H turning it down because he's hot. Marriage is a wonderful thing, you know. Mind you, Lord H does have the advantage over me as he appears to understand how the funny buttony thingy with all the gadgets works, so he has complete power over when the hot water and heating come on and go off. It's all a mystery to me.

For the rest of this morning, I've continued on with the battle scenes of Hallsfoot's Battle and am now at the high levels of the 114,000 word range. Something's about to happen too (well, there's a novelty ...), but who knows what. Perhaps an idea will occur to me tomorrow - who can tell?

This afternoon, I've snoozed and chilled my way through a totally glorious Clarins back massage and facial. Mmm, bliss. There was slight confusion at the start though as they appear to have cancelled my appointment (who knows why), but luckily Hilary was free anyway and glad of something to do, so in the end everything was as if I'd never been unilaterally cancelled at all. In fact it was so blissful that I fell asleep several times - am I now officially entering the Tired Zone of Life?? It's all downhill from here, you know, but hell at least you pick up speed.

Ooh and tonight there are chips for tea, which just make everything worthwhile. I've also made an effort at marketing this week (well, gosh!) so I am now Author of the Month (though possibly not for long as it's May tomorrow!) on the LoveWriting site, and you can also find Maloney's Law and A Dangerous Man there too. With this unexpected breeze behind me, I've added Maloney's Law to the fReado book site and am planning to add A Dangerous Man up there at some point too. I hope it'll spark some kind of interest in the novels, but I'll have to see.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. A working central heating/hot water system
3. Writing Hallsfoot
4. Clarins massage
5. A marketing push.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - enjoying a brief flare of fame

Packing panics and a London jaunt

Well, the plumber did at least turn up yesterday and has done something, though the boiler’s still not fixed up yet. It strikes me that it would be easier if he actually allocated some reasonable time to it and got it finished, rather than just keep popping in and doing a bit here and there when he can. It can’t be a great use of his time and it’s certainly doing my head in. Lord alone knows when he’s coming back as well – it’s a mystery …

Meanwhile, here at the work front, I’m in early as Lord H gave me a lift in as I’m up in London tonight, so there’s no meditation poem today – no time for prayer, alas. Lord H’s essential London travel tip in these health-conscious times: if you see someone in a big hat who’s sneezing, run like the wind … Hmm, that’ll stop me getting swine fever, I’m sure, and is it a tad too much national stereotyping?? … Ah well.

Anyway I am still labelling up the office as if there will be no tomorrow (which for me there won’t – at least not at work, part-timer that I am), and trying to get everything done before the move next week. This becomes all the more important as I am not hugely confident that we’ll have access to computers and phones as soon as we’d like once we’re in the new place, but we live in hope, eh. In this as in so many other things. The Dean and I have also had a scout round the new place and made a list of all the items that aren’t working yet or which should be removed before we start to invade. You can tell he’s an engineer, can’t you? I had to persuade him not to try to fix the radiator himself while he was there, as being not a great use of Dean time. He’s threatening to bring in his paint pot too, so goodness knows what our décor will be like this time next week. Anyway, I’ve given the list of oddities to our Estates and Facilities people, and I’m hoping they’ll work their magic before Tuesday. And great news – we have had a delivery of more crates! Plus the nice young men who delivered them have also managed to separate the two crates that were stuck, so we can now start packing things away once more. It’ll make a change from the labelling for sure.

Managed to get out for a soothing lunchtime walk and also popped into the art gallery on my way round. There are some interesting pictures there from a variety of artists as part of the run-up to Surrey Artists’ Open Studio month, so that was good to see. It’s an event I always think is a wonderful idea, but somehow I never end up attending anything – the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak indeed. Oh and we have ducklings by the lake, hurrah.

This afternoon, I’ve consoled myself for this morning’s poetry rejection (the fools! The fools! Whatever can they be thinking??...) with my last Starbucks decaff cappuccino in this office. Lord but it tasted good. And tonight I’m off to London to see the old University girls and catch up over the essential Italian (food, my dears, food …). I’m hoping it won’t be too late an evening, as I’m not sure I can take the pace any more – last night, I actually fell asleep in front of the telly, which caused Lord H much amusement. I’ve never done that before – is it the slippery slope? However he reassures me that no doubt they’ll repeat Dan Cruickshank’s programme on Kew at some point, so I can catch up on the story of rubber that I missed. Always good to have something to look forward to, eh.

Today’s nice things:

1. The appearance of more crates
2. Art
3. Ducklings
4. Starbucks
5. Pizza and chat.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - all packed up and ready to go

Plumbers and packing

Today’s the day the plumber is supposed to turn up to do what I hope will be the final tweaks to our boiler and heating system – bearing in mind that this has been going on since last year, I have to say my patience is wearing rather thin. He may be really sweet and good at his job, but I do wish he’d put a rocket up his bottom and light the touch paper. I’ll even do that for him, if need be – no anaesthetics required. At this rate, it’ll be Christmas by the time it’s sorted out, sigh … It would be so nice to be able to turn off the heating over summer after all – which at the moment we can’t do as the hot water and heating are currently joined at the hip. So no heat equals no hot water. Still, we live in hope, eh.

Am continuing bravely on with the task of packing up the office for our move. I now have six crates full of stuff and it ain’t over yet. We desperately need more crates and the Estates men are even now going through the campus with the proverbial tooth-comb trying to find some for us. And I haven’t even started on the boss’s filing … I would make the attempt but the last two crates are stuck together and I think only prayer and fasting will prise them apart. Talking of which, here’s today’s meditation:

Meditation 117

When God had his chance,
there on the mountain

of fire and death,
you would have thought

he’d have picked
a whole lot more

than just ten commandments.


Andrea and I had a quick visit again to our new offices – in Senate House itself no less, so we are going upmarket, my dears. Soon you will have to call me madam, and mean it, you know (in a nice way) … I’ve decided, at the last minute, that I don’t like my desk being too near the window, so I’ve switched labels with one further away. I only hope Chaplaincy Ruth doesn’t mind, as that was her desk, but I’ve left an explanatory apologetic note, so I hope it’ll be okay. Lordy but how I hate moving. I won’t feel happy from now until the last crate is unpacked and I’ve bonded with my new space. And I’m already mourning the fact that Starbucks will no longer be next door. I mean how on earth am I supposed to know when the queue is short enough for me to join it?

Still, I had to get my literary head on for the writers’ group at lunchtime. Today’s writing game (and also the homework for next time) was to choose one of the ten first lines of novels I’ve gathered from my rather bizarre and unregimented book collection and then write what happens next. All they have to remember is to ditch that first line when they’re done and things should be fine. I really don’t want a plagiarism lawsuit on my hands after all … UPDATE: Well, it worked for me – I think I’ve started a piece of flash fiction about a skeleton, a man and a wood, but in a fantasy landscape, so we’ll see where that leads me. I quite like it so far.

Tonight, I’m going to gird my proverbial loins and go to visit Gladys on the way home – I’m hoping Mrs Nasty Nurse doesn’t start spitting at me again, as visiting is difficult enough without the nurses proving tricksy also, sigh … I can do without a double dose of grief coming my way for sure – really I can barely cope with a single dose. Not much on TV tonight either, though I might watch Dan Cruickshank waxing lyrical about Kew Gardens. He’s so cute. I’ll also try to get some more of my erotic short story done. It’s bubbling away nicely, but I do like getting things finished. As do the two men involved, of course.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Writers’ group
3. Short stories.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - packing away anything that doesn't breathe ...

Rainy days and reflexology

Weird how I thought I’d be better today but the rain has brought with it a sense of impending doom that I just can’t shake. Sigh. Anyway here’s this morning’s meditation:

Meditation 116

Each day brings
a blazing furnace

of its own.
You can only

walk through it,
hoping for the promised land

of night.

Roll on home time, eh. Though, dammit, but I have to go shopping before I can get to my promised (home)land, so I’m not looking forward to that. Meanwhile the changes to the parental guidelines document have come back, so I’m hoping I can make some kind of sense of it, but I don’t think it’s going to be soon. Which of course means the personal tutors’ handbook has to snuggle down into its customary position of the back-burner once more. Double sigh. UPDATE – have managed to do the first tranche of changes, hurrah, but it’s a long process and I suspect we’ll need to go through several versions before we get to a final one. We’re getting there, as they say.

Thank goodness for reflexology at lunchtime – I really, really needed it. Without it, I fear the day would be even darker. This afternoon, I struggled on with document changes, plus I began to think about sorting out my stuff for the office move next week. Lordy, how I hate change. I have to get all my general mish-mash of papers and files either thrown away or into crates by the end of Wednesday, and I’m not really confident that will be the case. Still, at least I’ve made a start – sort of.

Anyway, after shopping (which I’m trying not to think about too much right now), at least there’s Ashes to Ashes on to take my mind off my moaning. Ye gods and little fishes, but something has to. Triple sighing here from the shires. Oh, but there's cake for tea, hurrah - chocolate chip too. Suddenly the world seems brighter ...

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Reflexology
3. TV
4. Being at home
5. Cake.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - wondering why Mondays exist at all ...

Bones cover, birds and tea

First off, I must say that I've had the first sight of what I hope will turn out to be the book cover for The Bones of Summer and I am hugely happy with it indeed. It's fabulous. I do hope it's the one Dreamspinner Press will go with. Sorry that you can't see it yet but as and when it's confirmed and up on their site I shall let you know! I love it.

Other literary news is that two of my poems are going to be published in the upcoming inaugural edition of Apparatus Magazine so that's very cheering news. Thanks, Adam!

Meanwhile, here's this morning's meditation:

Meditation 115

No matter
the high walls,
gates and bars

you construct
around you
to keep out God.

He’ll sweep in
nonetheless
in his own good time

which is worrying enough,
it’s true,

but more worrying still
if he doesn’t.

Good Sunday material, I think. Despite all that, we've skipped church today (shame on us!) and have spent a lovely relaxed morning in Wisley instead. Birds spotted today, I think for the first time this year, include a mistle thrush and a marsh tit, hurrah. We also spotted green finches, chaffinches, blue tits, great tits, a coal tit, a jay and a great spotted woodpecker - so all the usual suspects indeed. Oh and there were some nice flowers too, you'll be pleased to hear. The rhododendrons are huge, Carruthers, huge, and very colourful. I only knew what they were because of the labelling, I'm ashamed to say. Usually I can barely tell a daisy from a daffodil (you mean there's a difference??).

Anyway, we ate out at the Wisley cafe (very nice, but really they should do a decent range of salads - surely it can't be hard?), and then sped back home as Pauline & Tony, with Darren, popped round for afternoon tea and chat. Goodness me, how very civilised we are today and how very Surrey. Lovely to see all three of them and a brilliant catch-up time. The Waitrose chocolate chip cake went down extremely well too - I can definitely recommend that one to all and sundry.

Tonight there's sod all on TV - groan ... However the exciting news is that the lovely and very talented Catherine Walter has let me have one of her OU short stories for feedback so I'm hugely looking forward to reading that. It's bound to inspire me this evening, so thank you, Cathy! I'm not at all convinced I'll have anything useful to add though ...

And this week's haiku is:

He carries the world
in his arms; it's purposeful,
wrapped in black netting.

Today's nice things:

1. Seeing the cover for Bones, hurrah!
2. Two more poems being accepted for publication
3. Poetry
4. Visiting Wisley, and birds
5. Friends for tea
6. Cathy's story
7. Haikus.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - sometimes you can judge a book by its cover ...

Disappointing places and a Maloney twin

Some exciting news on the book front - for the first and only time in my literary career, Maloney's Law actually has a buying twin on Amazon in the US. Well, gosh! I've never had any of my books paired up with another for buying purposes before - I've no idea what, if anything, it might signify but it almost makes me feel like a real author, don't you know. Not sure how long it will actually last, but in case it's still there (click quickly to avoid disappointment and you'll need to scroll down to see it ...) the link is here - though strangely the actual twinned book seems to have changed since this morning. What on earth can it all mean? Anyway, Maloney's mate, whatever it is now, is certainly a wild choice so everyone should have a lot of fun with that for sure!

Still on matters literary, here's this morning's meditation:

Meditation 114

Walk the desert,
track each grain of sand

with your skin,
and on your tongue

taste the full extent
of wilderness.

When at last you turn north,
the clear light

you find there
will brand your memory

like death or war
onto forgotten earth.

Start the weekend off with a jolly ditty is what I say, eh. Ah well. Talking of which, I'm in two minds about Mike Barlow's poetry collection, Another Place. It started off so well and I was hugely excited by the depth and dynamism of the subject matter and style of this one. But there was some very serious and rather disappointing sagging going on in the middle and somehow, in the final analysis, the collection as a whole just doesn't gel together as one, although there are some extraordinarily good poems in there. You just somehow lose sight of them in the general filling however. I felt very much as if it was a chapbook desperately trying to be heard in the middle of a too big collection. The way I sometimes feel that some novels are actually short stories trying to get out. If it had been a chapbook, with the very good poems included therein then it would have been top-notch indeed. Some of those poems of real excellence include: June Bug (with its real historical immediacy); A Night Out (wonderful humour and humanity); Something Between Us (romance and humour - fabulous); Hot Pursuit (bikes rides, love and reality); and my utter favourite, Frisking The Poem (what a poem looks like when it first turns up, aha!). One to read maybe, but don't be afraid of skipping.

Today, Lord H and I have visited The Vyne in Basingstoke and walked around the grounds admiring the wildlife and enjoying the view from their one bird hide. New birds spotted for this year are house martins and redshanks, hurrah. There are also lots of ducklings looking totally cute and fluffy (Girly Moment Alert!!), and nesting swans and coots. Spring has indeed sprung, I believe.

Back home, I've been working away on Hallsfoot's Battle and am now in the high ranges of 113,000 words. You'll be pleased to hear that Ralph has woken up and is attempting to do something vaguely useful in the middle of the angst (about time too ...) and I've at last remembered that the mountain dogs are there - I'd forgotten them until Ralph woke up, sigh ... Lordy, but never believe that the author is in full control of events. My, how we laughed at that notion. It's all done on a wing and a prayer, you know.

Tonight, we're looking forward to battling with dinosaurs in the next episode of Primeval, and there's the last episode of Alan Whicker's past journeys that I missed before and I really must catch up with. Talking of the past come back, I have to say that ever since I heard about it, I've been very grumbly and cross about how anyone has dared to take the great icon and acting genius that was Leonard (may his name be praised) Rossiter and the incomparable Reginald Perrin series and attempt to reinvent them both - but Lord H persuaded me to give the reinvention a chance last night, and I have to say it was all right. Okay, it's not Rossiter and it's certainly not Perrin as we knew and loved him, but I think the first episode stood up okay and even made us both laugh on occasion. It's not as dark as the original, but as a reinterpretation of a classic for the modern times, I think it might be worth a go. I shall certainly watch the second episode anyway.

Today's nice things:

1. Maloney's changing twin
2. Poetry
3. The Vyne
4. Birds
5. Writing Hallsfoot
6. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - she's actually the evil twin, you know ...

Chick lit and prayer

The ideal combination, don't you know. Though, actually, I suspect The Vicar of Dibley may well already have gone that route. Anyway, the good news of today is that the Chick Lit Review has accepted my short story, The Driving Force, for future publication, so that's nice. Combined with that (and in honour of the title of this blog), my meditation poem number eleven is now published by Haruah Magazine and can be found here.

Talking of meditation, I'm back to the Bible reading and starting Deuteronomy today, so here this morning's poem:

Meditation 113

The past lies in wait
and its mysteries

are ever before us.
Walk through its country

with care,
separating river from earth,

sky from rock,
truth from dream

until you are left
bathed only in light

and the scent of your journey.

I've also played golf with Marian, and her daughter Jane also came along, so a triple-whammy of golfing gals indeed. None of us played brilliantly, but I wasn't quite as off-form as the other two, so I managed to win, hurrah. Okay, by one point only, but hey who's counting ... It was fun too playing with a mother-daughter team - goodness me, they're competitive when they're together! It made me feel extraordinarily chilled, which is unusual for me on the golf course. I'm usually extraordinarily focused. And, yes, competitive.

I've managed to write another 1000 words of Hallsfoot's Battle and am now happily in the 112,000 range. I've had an idea for the grand finale of the battle too, which took me by surprise. But which makes sense. Not sure how I'm going to get there, as I have a hell of a lot of viewpoints to take into account and I'm also rather worried about Ralph (he's down on the floor, captain, and he dang well won't get up ...). I'll have to raise his game soon. After all, he is the only real soldier in the mix, poor dear. He ought to do at least some decent fighting.

This afternoon, I've been standing and sitting in my Alexander technique lesson. This week's focus is balance and the pelvis. Up until now, the location of my pelvis has been a complete mystery to me, my dears (well, I only did Biology up to O Level), but I think I have a vague inkling as to its whereabouts now. But I still probably couldn't find it with a compass. Mind you, I can't find any ruddy thing with a compass, so that's no surprise.

Tonight, the new series of Have I Got News for You? starts, thank the Lord. That's been a long time returning - what have we done without it? Nothing else on but that though (sigh ...) so I may as well do some cleaning. I really have to tidy the flat as we have people coming for tea on Sunday. People though! Whatever next?...

Today's nice things:

1. A short story acceptance
2. Poetry publication
3. Poetry
4. Golf
5. Hallsfoot battle plans
6. Alexander technique
7. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - battling through on a wing and a prayer

Candy and Catharsis

Am hugely pleased to say that Candy and Catharsis, my comic short story about the loves, tragedies and traumas of living in a dictionary (well, it's a hard life for a working word ...), has now been published by The Oddville Press and can be found in their free Issue 3 magazine download here. It's the first story you scroll down to and I hope you enjoy the read. It should at the very least raise several laughs on this bright and bubbly afternoon.

Keeping on matters literary, I've been in poetic mood and have written a couple of poems over the last day or so - one came to me while I was doing my back exercises and the other while I was driving home from the shop. Whilst paying due care and attention to the road conditions, naturally. I was also thrilled to be asked by the marvellous Nik Perring to contribute a haiku to an upcoming book of photographs and words that's being produced for charity. More information on this exciting new project can be found at today's entry on Nik's blog. Do have a read and admire the photograph - it's great! And have a go at the competition if you feel so inspired too. Oh and yes, I've sent him my offering already (for a different picture), so thanks again, Nik.

Apologies though for the lack of meditation poem today - I was sent skittering frantically from my bed at 6am with a rampant bout of girly pain (say no more - oh, actually, I'm going to anyway, sorry ...), and so any concept of Bible reading went out the window while I was searching for a hot water bottle, painkillers and the Deep Heat cream. I wonder if this unexpected onslaught (usually my monthly pain levels are far more under control than that these days ...) might have been partly caused by the fact that I forgot my HRT gel last night? If so, it's certainly taught me my lesson, I can tell you. Anyway, Lord H rubbed my back while I groaned for a while (what a hero!), but thankfully all is now well. I can never find the words to say how utterly utterly wonderful it is when the pain stops. Complete heaven indeed.

Back to the literary life, I have written another 1000 words of Hallsfoot's Battle and I think I have more ideas about the battle scenes. Thank goodness. I've got rid of one secondary character too - rather too harshly, I suspect, so I may have to revisit the handling of that in the edit. So I'm now at the 111,000 range and back into Simon's viewpoint. He's not a happy man (or rather half-Gathandrian), believe me. After all, he's a scribe, not a soldier - as the good Star Trek doctor would say. I feel he's going to have to learn fast however. Ah well.

Meanwhile, never say TV is not inspirational: as a result of last night's programme on the building restoration projects updates, I've finally become a friend of our local Watts Gallery. It's not open again until 2010, but friends are allowed to have tours around the site as it progresses, and that's way too tempting an offer ... A building site! Builders! What more could you want?? Anyway, tonight, our viewing pleasures include My Family and Graham Norton (I've recently become hooked on this), which are of course inspirational in their own special ways. Not to mention unique.

Today's nice things:

1. The publication of Candy and Catharsis
2. Writing poems
3. Writing a haiku to order, hurrah!
4. When the pain stops ...
5. Getting more of Hallsfoot down
6. The joys of television.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - a refuge for troubled words ...

Green coats and cappuccinos

A fairly calm day today. Well, phew already. In terms of Bible reading, I’ve got to the end of the Book of Numbers, so here’s my last meditation on that:

Meditation 112

At the end
of all the accounting

it’s evident that women
are allowed to inherit

but must marry
someone else’s choice.

It’s still a long road
until freedom arrives.

At work, I’m onto my second set of minutes and hoping to get the first draft done by the end of today. If my luck is in and the wind is behind me. Ho ho. I’ve also been struggling with the annual agony of trying to work out what my bank holiday entitlement is for the upcoming year as a part-timer. I think this year I don’t owe the University any days and neither do they owe me any, but I’ve sent my first pass at the spreadsheet off to our HR guru and I’ll see what they say … UPDATE - hurrah, I'm right! Well, that's a first then. It can't last.

Popped into town at lunchtime to try to see if there might be any clothes to buy that might just suit me. Answer: astonishingly yes! I was searching for trousers, but instead found a lovely three-quarters length light green spring/summer coat with an off-the-wall lining at Per Una. Bliss. Now all I have to do is wait for the opportunity to wear it – which probably means finding something green to go with it when 99% of my wardrobe is basically navy blue, or black. Or occasionally dark green when it’s almost black. Well, I don’t usually like to be too obvious … And maybe those combinations will do? Who can tell? – I am after all a Fashion Ignoramus. Anyway the coat has certainly given me a little frisson of excitement in my day (as it were). And it means that, according to my usual clothes spending habits, I don’t have to buy anything else until next year, hurrah. Plus the sunshine was lovely and it was a nice walk into town. And this afternoon was the first of my Starbucks decaff cappuccino moments since way before Easter. Double bliss. There’s just something about the foam that makes me so happy.

Tonight there’s something on TV updating us about the building restoration programmes which were on last year. It’s not a great choice really, but it does at least break up the vast desert of TV blankness that’s otherwise on. Mind you, that desert does give me a chance to continue working on my erotic short story, so it’s not all bad news, eh.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. A new green coat
3. Starbucks cappuccino
4. Short stories.
5. A slice of TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - a vision in green, don't you know

Muddling through the day

Well, when do I ever do anything else? Here’s this morning’s rather kick-ass meditation. The aftermath of yesterday, I feel:

Meditation 111

Murder defiles the land.
Still, today, it’s tempting.

I’ve got a list
as long as the Jordan

of people my world
would be better off without.

Making it a sure thing
that if I’d been around

when the Israelites
entered the promised land

I’d have needed a damn sight more
than six cities of refuge

for killers to flee to.

Today, I’ve been keeping my head down at work and attempting to begin writing up one of the sets of minutes I took yesterday. Sometimes, keeping one’s head below the proverbial parapet makes sense … I also added in yet more information to the personal tutors’ handbook. When will it ever end or be ready to print?? A question it is at the moment impossible to answer. I am more than ever convinced that we’ll still be adding new information to it when I’m in my bath chair. Ah well.

Still, I managed to cheer myself up a bit with a walk round campus at lunchtime. Nice to sit by the lake for a while and just chill. I even managed to get my favourite shady bench so didn’t have to do battle with the evil sun, hurrah. Oh and we have a brand-new photocopier/printer in the office which does virtually everything except brush your hair. I love it. I love it so much I think I want to run away with it and have its babies. Don't tell Lord H. The only really really big problem is that its start button glows blue (the photocopier's, not Lord H's ...) and it's just not natural - everyone knows the start button on photocopiers should be green. I keep having to look for it as it simply isn't the right colour, sigh ...

Tonight, there’s absolutely nothing on TV. Bummer. Though at least it means I can get more done to my erotic short story. I’m working on the beginning of it at the moment. Oh though I must say how good Ashes to Ashes was last night – much more exciting and I even warmed to the usually ice-cold Alex. She seemed almost normal this time, though (being picky) I really didn’t like her hair. Lordy, what a bitch I am.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Lying low
3. Lunchtime walks around the lake
4. Fiddling around with the short story (as it were).

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - still looking for the green button

Unwillingly to school and a stand-up row

Lordy but it’s been a miserable day today. The shock of being back at work has been almost too much for me and I feel completely overwhelmed and depressed by it all. First off, here’s this morning’s meditation:

Meditation 110

Freedom is shaped
by boundaries.

They lie heavy
on your shoulders,

prickling your skin
and constraining

all the steps you take.
Where you thought

to find air and space,
there is only the knowledge

of where you cannot go.

And really the day has been hugely constricting, and is certainly weighing heavily on the shoulders, groan. Too many emails, too many ridiculous demands and way way too many meetings. I hate having more than one meeting on during a day – but today I’ve had to come back to having to minute two of the wretched beasts. And really I’ve had no interest in them. I just wanted to be at home. All quite tearful really. How I wish I didn’t have to work, or I could just do something mindless where I didn’t have to think so much or pretend to be so alert and interested all the time. Personally I think the new buzz phrase of “staff engagement” is far too overrated. Most of us just want to survive the day. Sigh.

I’m also rather fed up with the fact that one of the literary email groups I belong to (which shall of necessity remain nameless) barely responds to anyone not in its small clique of approved people. Naturally that doesn’t include me. Hmm, when does it ever, eh? Very little support there, Carruthers, and it’s not the friendliest of groups. I suspect if nothing changes in the near future, I shall opt out if only for my sanity’s sake. UPDATE: I've left it, hurrah! Such a relief, and at least my email won't be clogged up with pointless, self-obsessed emails any more. If anyone around here is going to be pointless and self-obsessed, well it's bloody well going to be me. Really, I make all my sanest decisions when I'm raging.

Tonight, I was supposed to be going to the University book group, but I couldn't bear to stay at work any longer than I could help it. Yes, I was that desperate to be at home. I dropped in on Gladys on the way though, but she was asleep. And I had a stand-up row with a total tight-arsed witch of a nurse about how one should go in and out of the front door. Really, she was bloody rude to me and I'm glad I shouted back. I don't see why I have to be nice all the bloody time just because I'm female and British, and anyway she deserved it. What a cow. I really shouldn't have to deal with these arses. Yes, as you can see, I have neither compassion nor milk of human kindness for the caring people (so-called) of the planet. Anyway, milk makes me ill, bah.

Roll on the ruddy weekend is what I say. At least there’s Ashes to Ashes on TV though – that’s something then. Sigh.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Getting home
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - definitely not in the mood to be messed with

Faith, sex and nature

Well, get everything in at once is what I say (as it were). This morning, Lord H and I have paid our respects to the Almighty by attending the Low Sunday service (2nd after Easter). What a confusing mix of hymns they had too. Nobody had any idea how to sing the second and none of the congregation were any the wiser even after four verses of the damn thing. One of those Anglican hymns that defies explanation, I fear. Lord H also thought the theology of it might be a tad dodgy too, being vaguely okay about singing "the power of death defying", but adamant that the very phrase "death defying" is utterly wrong. That's the exact opposite, after all, to what Christianity is about, if it's about anything. Me? I just care about the tunes - if the tune is right, hell I'll sing anything. It's the Anglican way, you know ...

I also managed to give my usual gracious refusal to the second request about whether we wanted to join the church's electoral roll or not. This time the request was from the vicar, but he seemed rather more okay about my saying no than the church warden did some weeks ago. He was probably taken by surprise by my response that I'd rather live with the church for a while than marry it, but I think he got my meaning. Indeed he even ended by taking my side in the matter - as when one of the congregation said that if I did join the electoral roll, then I could express my opinions more adequately, he pointed out (with a very endearing smile) that he didn't think expressing my opinions adequately at any point was a particular problem of mine. Ah, irony mixed with charity - how I love it. And, really, he should know - I have been in one of his Bible study groups after all.

And, talking of religion, here's this morning's poem:

Meditation 109

Gods destroyed,
history lost,

a land divided,
and those you leave behind

a thorn in the side,
a splinter in the eye:

paradise comes
at a price

and the one to pay it
is you.


Anyway, I came home and went straight from the Lord's arms into the arms of sin. As it were, and if you're of that mindset. I've spent most of the afternoon tinkering away on my erotic short story, and at least David and Jeff now have their sex scene sorted out, which brings me nicely into the 3,500 words quota. After three years of waiting, both men are very grateful that I've finally written it, I can assure you. I really need at least 5000 words for this one, but I think I'll get to that, as I still have to write the club scene plus the journey to Jeff's flat and the ending. Yes, I know I'm not writing it in order, but I always do my sex scenes first - heck they're the fun part.

So, sex and religion - my two favourite things in one day. What could be nicer?

Well, back to more innocent times (does anyone remember those??), I've been hugely impressed with a journey of nature and song, which I read about yesterday in the paper and which you can find here. It's the account of three men who are currently walking around Britain, singing local folk songs and learning about local customs in whatever area they happen to be in. It's utterly charming and utterly down-to-earth and I love it. You can read about their travels, future plans and learning that they've gleaned from people along the way, and even listen to one of the folk songs - it's fabulous and they're great singers. I've enquired about the CD and will definitely be buying the book as and when it comes out. I can thoroughly recommend visiting the website - it gives you hope, and at a time like this everyone needs hope.

Tonight, there's not much on TV (groan), but I shall watch the double episode of My Family and (if I feel up to it) I shall sit through the probably yawn-inducing Lady's Detective Agency. Thank goodness it's the last episode, say I - as really you've seen one and you've seen them all. Much like the books then, hush my mouth.

This week's haiku is:

We rise in the dark,
herald the morning like monks
enticing the sun.

Today's nice things:

1. Church and some dodgy theology
2. Having opinions, big ones
3. Poetry
4. Sex-writing (ooh-err, missus ...)
5. Three men and a very uplifting journey
6. Haikus.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - opinionated, but cute (sort of) ...

The dawn chorus times two

Goodness me, but getting up at 2am is a whole new world. Astonishingly I can actually be ready to leave the flat in an hour, if I really put my mind to it (rather than the customary two hours), so as we were primed to leave at 3.30am, I had half an hour to spare, hurrah. Which I used for doing the final final run through of my upcoming short story, Painting from Life for Eternal Press. So all set for the publication date of 7 May then, double hurrah. Never say I'm not committed to my attempt at a writing life, eh.

The rest of the morning (and what a long, long morning it's been ...) has been spent enjoying the Dawn Chorus walk at Pulborough Brooks. There were loads of equally crazed people there too - so many that the group had to be divided in two and take different routes round the reserve. It was marvellous. The nightingales were incredible and to hear the rest of the birds (and with the guide telling you which was which if you didn't know) join in gradually was utterly and amazingly magical. If you ever get the chance to do something like that, I can wholeheartedly recommend it. But wrap up warmer than we did - the promised warm spring day didn't start until we left at about 11.30, dammit. Anyway, afterwards they gave us a much-needed cooked breakfast and we wandered round the whole reserve again, mostly on our own as it didn't open till later. So that was great. New birds spotted for this year included a little ringed plover, a nightingale, a willow warbler, swallows (though we also saw the first of them on a brief walk last week but I think I forgot to mention them), a whitethroat, a treecreeper, a pair of blackcaps and we heard a cuckoo plus a tawny owl. We also heard for some time the rather strange warbler they have at the reserve which is a cross between a chiffchaff and a willow warbler - it starts out singing like the first and then the song changes to that of the second. Weird, but that's birds for you. So that's a total of 112 new birds this year. Well, gosh. Not only that, but we saw huge amounts of primroses - once the light came up - and the first of the bluebells. Spring is definitely here then ...

This afternoon, I've concentrated on submissions, sending off one short story which was rejected (shame ...) yesterday, my comedy fantasy story that I was too ill to read at last week's event, and a set of five poems. Here's hoping some of them find a home.

Tonight, I'm gearing myself up for major dinosaur trauma in Primeval and then I think there's something on about the young Queen Victoria, so that might be worth watching. I'll probably be ready for sleep by then though. Seriously ready ...

Today's nice things:

1. Signing off the final version of Painting from Life
2. The dawn chorus
3. Real spring flowers
4. Sending out another round of submissions
5. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - is that the nightingale or the lark?...

A landmark word count, literary sex and a Bones publication date

Was supposed to play golf this morning, but rain stopped play, as they say. Though actually that was probably quite useful as otherwise today would have been a social free-for-all, well in my mind at least. And it gave me time to visit the post office this morning to send off the parcel containing a signed set of four copies of my novels as prizes for the upcoming First Edition Magazine competition.

Talking of this morning, here's today's meditation:

Meditation 108

The secret
of being content

with what one has
lays bare

the deep inadequacy
of dreaming

and is therefore
not to be embraced.

For most of the day, I've been creeping forward with Hallsfoot's Battle and have reached the landmark word count of 110,000 words. Hurrah, hurrah! Only another 10,000 to go and I might have the bare bones of a fantasy novel. You never know. I also had a sudden idea for a battle plot strand whilst writing it, which I'm pleased about, so I'll see how that goes. It completes the story arc for the First Elder so that feels as if I'm working towards an ending. Or the beginning of the end, or possibly the end of the beginning. As Churchill might have said.

Other lovely, lovely, totally exciting book news is that I have a provisional publication date from Dreamspinner Press for The Bones of Summer and it's 22 June - which is the day after my birthday. Gosh and double gosh, what a week that's going to be, eh! And apparently I should have the edited manuscript soon so I'm very much looking forward to that. It's so wonderful to get a tentative date for this one as, even though it might well slip, it's always good to have something to look forward to. So get your cash ready for then, folks, and find out what happens to Paul Maloney after the end of Maloney's Law from the point of view of his brand-new partner, Craig. I for one can hardly wait ...

Inspired by all this, I've actually started an erotic short story today. Well, when I say "started", I actually started it three years ago and then put it on hold for a while - so it's been on hold for longer than originally anticipated, I must say. Heck, those poor blokes have been waiting a ruddy long time for the action to happen, I can tell you. They should really ring Character Line and complain about their author. They have every right. Well, I've now picked up the tale of David and Jeff once more and am hoping to finish it over the next few weeks. I have a market in mind, but we'll see. There's always hope, even after a three-year literary sex ban. As it were.

You'll also be pleased to know that I've had a much-needed haircut today and look rather less like a startled Highland cow (you know, the grumpy ones with the fringes) and more like a real member of the human race. Hmm, that's not likely to last long, is it? I've also been to my Alexander Technique lesson and have had my back stretched into its proper shape once more, after having spent two weeks crumpled up in a heap of illness and groaning. Goodness me, did I need it!

Tonight, Lord H and I must go to bed early (steady, people, steady ...) as we have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow in order to go on a 4.45am Dawn Chorus walk, and the starting point is about an hour's drive away. Hmm, whose ruddy idea was that then?? Oh, mine. Bugger. The things I do for Nature, eh.

Today's nice things:

1. Posting my novels prize package
2. Poetry
3. Getting to a landmark word quota with Hallsfoot
4. A provisional publication date for Bones, hurrah hurrah!
5. Revisiting an erotic short story
6. Haircuts
7. Alexander Technique.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - enjoying a red letter day

Strawberries, missing people and story success

Managed an early shopping expedition to Godalming today as there's really no time in my action-packed day tomorrow. I attempted to stock up on Dead Sea soap at the health shop but they had none, although the search was made more complicated by the fact that the poor temporary lad in charge couldn't find the shop lights. Neither could he work the cash till so I had to pay for my £1.95 Tea Tree soap alternative by card. Poor chap - you'd think they would have briefed him before throwing him to the wolves. I hope he survives his day. I also renewed my various prescriptions at the doctors, though I had to go back this afternoon to collect them as the pharmacy were out-of-stock this morning. I wonder if I should have asked for the Dead Sea soap from them as well? Too late now, I fear ...

Here's this morning's meditation:

Meditation 107

If I’d been told
that after a holy war

I was ordained
to die

I wouldn’t be
quite so keen

on summoning the troops
as Moses is.

I really do think Moses should have been a tad more cunning about the whole "fight now and die immediately afterwards" thing. A little forward thinking never comes amiss when it comes to God, especially amongst the prophet classes ...

For the rest of the day I've scratched out my 1000 words to Hallsfoot's Battle, thus bringing me into the middle of the 109,000 range now. Mind you, it was bloody hard work. I mean, after you've send one enemy soldier into the great hereafter, what the hell do you do for an encore? Best bring the mind-executioner in more fully, I feel - he can usually think of something horrible and obscure to do. Hmm, that's the trouble with these dang authors, isn't it? They always blame the characters for their own screwed-up minds. Ah 'twas ever thus.

I've also written a comic erotic poem about strawberries. Well, it's so nearly the season and some poor punter has to do it, so it may as well be me. It even rhymed, Lord preserve us. Whatever next? Ooh and other fun writing news is that First Edition Magazine say that the response to my interview in their May edition has proved very positive, and they've asked me to offer signed copies of a novel or two for a competition they're running in June. Gosh, that's hugely exciting, and I'm very grateful to be asked. I only hope somebody enters. Last time I ran a competition for one of my novels (on my blog), only two or three wonderfully kind people took pity on me and sent in an entry, so that was rather high on the embarrassment stakes for sure. I hope that First Edition have more success with it!

Keeping on the writing theme, I'm pleased to say that Perpetual Magazine - who will be showcasing me as their featured poet in May/June (heck, did I mention that this week already??) - have also just accepted one of my Bible stories, The Rock, for publication as well, so that's a much-needed double-whammy dose of good news, hurrah! Thank you again, Russell.

Tonight there's a programme on TV about missing people, so I absolutely must watch that. It's a terrifying and fascinating subject. I think one day I'll write something about a missing person, but not for a while. One of my old schoolfriends went missing a long time ago during my first year as an undergraduate and I can remember the police coming to my college to interview me. It was all very surreal and I remember being totally confused and very blank about it. Probably shock, I suppose. Thankfully, she was found safe and well after a couple of days, but she never really talked about it and eventually we lost touch. Lordy (says she with the ice-cold heart of a writer), that's probably my plot, Carruthers.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Writing Hallsfoot
3. First Edition's competition plans
4. Short story acceptance
5. TV - sort of.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - having slightly peculiar ideas about fruit

The wild social whirl and the beginnings of battle

Something of a social whirl day today, so I got up early and got down to getting another 1000 words of Hallsfoot's Battle into the pot. Which meant actually starting the big battle scenes, which I suspect will go on for some time and have a variety of different viewpoints in them. So that brings me safely into the 108,000 word range. I'm still a tad (well, more than a tad) worried about whether I'll be up to the task of making the concept of battle terrifying enough, particularly as I don't think war is my strong point, but I'll do the best I can and see what comes out - or goes in - during the edit. Thank God no-one ever sees the draft version, eh. That would be very frightening indeed. Even I can barely bring myself to read it.

This morning's meditation, meanwhile, is this:

Meditation 106

A vow
is like a pearl.

It belongs
to the man

who pays for it,
not to she

who wears it.

Talking of poetry, I'm very happy to say that Perpetual Magazine will be showcasing some of my work as part of their May/June Featured Poet slot, so that's good news indeed. Thank you, Russell!

Had a pub lunch out with Liz from the choir today, and we managed to find the last remaining pub in Godalming that actually does baguettes for lunch - which was wonderful news, but no doubt now I've said that they'll probably take them off the menu, dammit. Sigh. Had a great chat, and we were also joined for coffee (coffee, my dears - how very Surrey!) by another of her friends before doing a spot of shopping in the garden centre opposite the pub. Lordy, we are women of a certain age, aren't we? I even stocked up on my dwindling supply of Epsom salts for the bath, so that puts at least twenty years on me, to start with. I'll go and order my bathchair immediately ...

Tonight, I'm seeing Jane W in London for another chat and catch-up session so, as I said, it's one wild social whirl today. I have carved out a day tomorrow though where I don't have to talk to anyone apart from Lord H, so there's time to recover at least. I don't want to get too excited after all, not with my rapidly advancing years.

And I've been gravely disappointed in Leslie Marshall's novel, A Girl Could Stand Up. Quite, quite dreadful, my dears. I think it thought it was cleverer than it really was, but to be honest it had absolutely no charm and very little plot. Oh and some very dull characters to boot. I cared not a jot for any of them. The girl, Elray, is the only survivor of a freak accident that kills her parents at the start of the book, and I then spent 400 pages or so wishing that she'd died too and wondering if in fact her parents had arranged it all simply in order to escape. I could not find it in my heart to blame them. On the front cover, no less a literary icon than Edmund White says it's "the best first novel I've read in years" - which leads me to think that he hasn't read many first novels in a long, long time. The trouble is it's trying to be surreal when it doesn't know how, it's trying to be a novel when it should be a piece of flash fiction and it's trying to be literary when it's simply languid. Enough said already. Don't buy it.

Today's nice things:

1. Meandering along with Hallsfoot
2. Poetry
3. Being a future featured poet, well gosh!
4. Lunch out with friends
5. Dinner out with Jane W.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - less of a party animal than she evidently appears