We are off to Italy in a few days. So this will probably be my last post for several weeks. So, I just thought I'd let the world know ... I have been offered a contract by a new E publisher. They want to publish my current book Life Class. They also want to look at Just Before Dawn and Desires & Dreams. I don't have high hopes of the latter two, as they are likely to seem very dated now. But who knows?
I have come to a point in my life, and in my understanding of the publishing business, where I think it very unlikely I will ever be 'mainstream' published again. Unless (ever the optimist) one of my books goes viral in the E-Sphere. So the e-book definitely seems the way to go.
I am swanning off to http://www.arteumbria.com/ in a very good mood.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
My Festival 'fringe' gig at the Daffodil Restaurant in Cheltenham
I've done it! What a relief. And I didn't stutter, pant, faint, freeze, bumble, fall over or lose my place!
Fiona Stephens, who arranged the whole thing and who was there to welcome me at the Daffodil and settle me in, was lovely. The Daffodil is a sympathetically converted 1920s cinema. http://www.thedaffodil.com/ I've been there to eat several times, and once for a wedding, but quite a few years ago. Doing my 'turn' there, reminded me what a lovely venue it is, and we've resolved to go more frequently in future.
I was accompanied by Geoffrey, my husband, who was charged with taking a few pics. We were given refreshments, a glass of wine for me, which helped settle the nerves, and a coffee for him. It had started to rain heavily, thankfully after we arrived, so some of my audience arrived wet and flurried.
The truly wonderful tea was served. Each table was brought their own tower of sandwiches, cakes and scones, plus a pot of tea. It looked scrumptious, I'd loved to have joined them, but I was far to tense to eat a thing.
I wasn't 'on' till the majority had finished their tea. To begin with I gave a short account of my own writing 'journey' plus an over-view of the changes in publishing since I was first published. I didn't read from chapter one of TORN, and I explained why to my audience. As it is an account of a violent, drunken altercation, with the unexpurgated language you might expect, I thought it an unsuitable passage to read out loud, in the afternoon, to tea drinking ladies in Cheltenham! Instead I read a short intro - a sketch of the back-story and the events leading up to my excerpt, which was taken from a few chapters in. The excerpt was about 15 mins long.
My husband says I was brilliant. I think we can take that with a pinch of salt. He was probably more nervous than I was and deeply relieved that I pulled it off, without embarrassing him or myself. I did a Q & A. There weren’t many questions, so I just rambled on and made sure I gave the RNA a plug.
It wasn't until I looked at the photos that an odd little coincidence occurred to me. I'd started my talk by admitting I was nervous but that I should have a genetic memory of 'performing' as I am directly descended from at least two generations of singers (paternal grandmother and great grandmother) and music hall artists. (paternal grandfather and great grandfather). I was speaking in front of a poster of Laurel & Hardy. My grandfather, Jamie Dallas, had known Stan Laurel from the days before he went to the US when he performed in London with Fred Carnoe's army.
When we got home we opened a bottle of fizz to celebrate. I'm not expecting a spike in sales, that's not the reason I did it. It's a skill writers need to have in this day and age, and for me, who's never done anything like it, it was a personal achievement, which I'm mightlily relieved to have accomplished and which I now know I could do again, and probably better next time.
Fiona Stephens, who arranged the whole thing and who was there to welcome me at the Daffodil and settle me in, was lovely. The Daffodil is a sympathetically converted 1920s cinema. http://www.thedaffodil.com/ I've been there to eat several times, and once for a wedding, but quite a few years ago. Doing my 'turn' there, reminded me what a lovely venue it is, and we've resolved to go more frequently in future.
I was accompanied by Geoffrey, my husband, who was charged with taking a few pics. We were given refreshments, a glass of wine for me, which helped settle the nerves, and a coffee for him. It had started to rain heavily, thankfully after we arrived, so some of my audience arrived wet and flurried.
The truly wonderful tea was served. Each table was brought their own tower of sandwiches, cakes and scones, plus a pot of tea. It looked scrumptious, I'd loved to have joined them, but I was far to tense to eat a thing.
I wasn't 'on' till the majority had finished their tea. To begin with I gave a short account of my own writing 'journey' plus an over-view of the changes in publishing since I was first published. I didn't read from chapter one of TORN, and I explained why to my audience. As it is an account of a violent, drunken altercation, with the unexpurgated language you might expect, I thought it an unsuitable passage to read out loud, in the afternoon, to tea drinking ladies in Cheltenham! Instead I read a short intro - a sketch of the back-story and the events leading up to my excerpt, which was taken from a few chapters in. The excerpt was about 15 mins long.
My husband says I was brilliant. I think we can take that with a pinch of salt. He was probably more nervous than I was and deeply relieved that I pulled it off, without embarrassing him or myself. I did a Q & A. There weren’t many questions, so I just rambled on and made sure I gave the RNA a plug.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Cheltenham Literature Festival!
Throughout the Cheltenham Literary Festival, the Daffodil Restaurant, (18-20 Suffolk Place, Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, GL50 2AE) is running an ‘afternoon tea at the Daffodil’ event.
http://www.thedaffodil.com/events/afternoon-tea--literature.aspx
Every afternoon a writer or writers will be going in to talk, read from a current book and answer questions, all to the delicate clink of porcelain!
And guess what? I have been asked to kick off the run, on Friday October 7th!
Tea will be served between 3 and 4.00 pm. My bit (where I talk about myself, read from my e-book TORN and answer questions) will be between 4.15 and 5.00.
It would be lovely to see friends and acquaintances there but I don’t expect it. Actually, I don’t know what is more scary, the prospect of performing to a roomful of people I know or a roomful of strangers. Or, even worse, maybe – an empty room!!!!!
It’s advisable to book, apparently, so they have an idea of numbers. Personally I’m only expecting 3 old men and a dog.
Will let you know how I get on.
http://www.thedaffodil.com/events/afternoon-tea--literature.aspx
Every afternoon a writer or writers will be going in to talk, read from a current book and answer questions, all to the delicate clink of porcelain!
And guess what? I have been asked to kick off the run, on Friday October 7th!
Tea will be served between 3 and 4.00 pm. My bit (where I talk about myself, read from my e-book TORN and answer questions) will be between 4.15 and 5.00.
It would be lovely to see friends and acquaintances there but I don’t expect it. Actually, I don’t know what is more scary, the prospect of performing to a roomful of people I know or a roomful of strangers. Or, even worse, maybe – an empty room!!!!!
It’s advisable to book, apparently, so they have an idea of numbers. Personally I’m only expecting 3 old men and a dog.
Will let you know how I get on.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
They're going black!!!!!!
We've lived in this house since 1988 and the vine grows against the old wall beside what would have been the original front door. This is the first summer time we have had grapes.
They started as little green bobbles, but the bobbles have been growing bigger and bigger and forming into recognisable clumps. For no very good reason I assumed they were a green variety and when I saw the odd one in a bunch darkening, I thought they must be rotting. I realised my mistake when I noticed more and more of them turning first red and then a deep dark wine colour.
Get out the demi-johns.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Who me?
Yes. It's now official. I will be appearing on the fringe of the Cheltenham Literary Festival, taking part in an event being staged at the Daffodil restaurant. www.thedaffodil.com/
The Daffodil is a 1920s cinema which has been sympathetically restored. It's not just a restaurant, it hosts other functions. I attended a wedding there some years ago. During the fortnight of the Literary Festival it is putting on 'Tea at the Daffodil' every afternoon, where the tea goers can meet an author.
I'll be there on the afternoon of October 7th - reading from my book, TORN, talking about myself and answering questions. Times and exact details to follow, when I know them. Don't all rush at once.
The Daffodil is a 1920s cinema which has been sympathetically restored. It's not just a restaurant, it hosts other functions. I attended a wedding there some years ago. During the fortnight of the Literary Festival it is putting on 'Tea at the Daffodil' every afternoon, where the tea goers can meet an author.
I'll be there on the afternoon of October 7th - reading from my book, TORN, talking about myself and answering questions. Times and exact details to follow, when I know them. Don't all rush at once.
Ancient Grapevine?
In 1988, when we bought Woodbine Cottage in the Cotswolds, we were told by the sellers that the gnarled old grapevine which grew up beside the old front door, fruited. But in the twenty something years we’ve lived here, the vine has never had grapes. Very annoyingly, there are other cottages in the village with outdoor grapevines growing on the old stone walls, and they do have fruit. Sometimes they are laden! I have listened to Gardeners Question Time and cross questioned my neighbours, but have never got to the bottom of why our vine is so stubborn.
Woodbine Cottage is situated near the top of the valley. I have always understood that it - in fact probably the entire village - was part of the demesne of Standish Abbey. We know that the monks made wine from grapevines cultivated in the valley. I have even heard it said that the Romans had grapevines in the valley. So it has always been a notion I have clung to that our grapevine (grapes or not) was very ancient, or was at the very least a cutting from a cutting of the medieval vines which grew here.
Recently, a man stopped beside our garden gate to chat. It turned out he’d lived in the cottage, with his mother and grandparents, in the 1940s. We asked him in. Mike was flabbergasted; of course the house has been modernised, and extended countless times, over the years since he lived here as a little boy. Then it didn’t even have running water, they collected water from the spring, which runs past the back door, and there was an outdoor earth closet. And in his day the garden was four times larger. They kept pigs and chickens, and rabbits for eating. There was an orchard and watercress beds. And of course they grew their own vegetables.
This week, Mike brought his 91 year old mother, Gladys, to see us. In a way, though grateful to us for the opportunity to revisit her old home, I think the experience saddened her. Though perfectly with-it and sprightly, she couldn’t really recognise the house she’d known as a young woman. Apart from the decor and the different layout, it’s now more than twice as big. She spoke of it as a mansion!
“It must be worth a million,” she said. (I wish!)
They had brought a few old photographs with them, which I’ve copied, but they’re family snaps and there’s little you can see of the cottage as it was then. And sadly, I forgot to take a picture of Gladys and her son Mike. The one thing I was determined to do was show Gladys the grapevine. I wanted to know if it had fruited in her day, and to tell her we hadn’t had grapes for all the years we've lived here....
“But look, we have grapes this year! The year you came back to visit the cottage!” My pathetic attempt to make connections, to invoke the possibility that the house had a kind of spooky prescience, fell flat.
“We didn’t have a grapevine there then. It was rose,” she said.
Still, it was a very interesting interlude and lovely to meet them. It gives us a better understanding of the history of our home. Even if I now know my grapevine isn't as ancient as I'd hoped.
Woodbine Cottage is situated near the top of the valley. I have always understood that it - in fact probably the entire village - was part of the demesne of Standish Abbey. We know that the monks made wine from grapevines cultivated in the valley. I have even heard it said that the Romans had grapevines in the valley. So it has always been a notion I have clung to that our grapevine (grapes or not) was very ancient, or was at the very least a cutting from a cutting of the medieval vines which grew here.
Recently, a man stopped beside our garden gate to chat. It turned out he’d lived in the cottage, with his mother and grandparents, in the 1940s. We asked him in. Mike was flabbergasted; of course the house has been modernised, and extended countless times, over the years since he lived here as a little boy. Then it didn’t even have running water, they collected water from the spring, which runs past the back door, and there was an outdoor earth closet. And in his day the garden was four times larger. They kept pigs and chickens, and rabbits for eating. There was an orchard and watercress beds. And of course they grew their own vegetables.
This week, Mike brought his 91 year old mother, Gladys, to see us. In a way, though grateful to us for the opportunity to revisit her old home, I think the experience saddened her. Though perfectly with-it and sprightly, she couldn’t really recognise the house she’d known as a young woman. Apart from the decor and the different layout, it’s now more than twice as big. She spoke of it as a mansion!
“It must be worth a million,” she said. (I wish!)
“But look, we have grapes this year! The year you came back to visit the cottage!” My pathetic attempt to make connections, to invoke the possibility that the house had a kind of spooky prescience, fell flat.
“We didn’t have a grapevine there then. It was rose,” she said.
Still, it was a very interesting interlude and lovely to meet them. It gives us a better understanding of the history of our home. Even if I now know my grapevine isn't as ancient as I'd hoped.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Surprise surprise!
Who'd have thought it? I've been invited to a give a reading at an event during the Cheltenham Literature festival! I am both astounded and petrified. So far the dates haven't been firmed-up and I guess there is still a chance of the organisers coming to their senses, but even so........! If it's definitely going to happen I'll post about it here.
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