keris stainton

Interview (with, er, me)

Beth Kephart writes young adult books which make me cry. In fact, often her emails to me make me cry. I feel privileged to internet-know her and privileged to be featured on her blog today.

Life is sweet

I'm sitting here listening to Sunday's Stephen Merchant show and perusing the wonderful desire to inspire blog (from which I pinched the above pic: not only is there a Fiat 500 - my dream car - in the room, the photographer is called Jim Bastardo. Fab).

I've been thinking about what I was doing last time I was pregnant and that was working as an administrator in corporate recover and personal insolvency and wishing I could write for a living.

I'm happy.

Woo-hoo! And also ... d'oh!

On Monday I sent over 5,000 words of the new book to my editor, along with quick summaries of the three main characters. She replied almost immediately saying she'd get back to me "in the next day or so".

So by yesterday I imagined that she hated it so much she was trying to think of a polite way to tell me and also a legal way to cancel my contract. But, no...

Yesterday, she rang and not only did she like it, she said it was "perfect".

We had a chat about the characters and the book in general (I really, really love talking about my characters as if they're real) and she said something about it being in first person being better than third person and I said, "Hang on. It's in third person. Isn't it?" "I don't think so," she said. "I think it is," I said. She opened the document and said, "No, it's definitely in first." And I, waiting for my document to open, said, "Are you sure? I thought it was in third..."

Can I remind you that I wrote these 5000 words and read them as recently as last weekend. Also, she had the document open and I was still insisting it was in third person? It wasn't, it was in first. How embarrassing.

But it's not the first embarrassment of this kind I've shared with my editor (seriously, it's a good job she's so lovely or I would be mortified!). At lunch last month, she said, "I'm vegetarian, but I eat fish. Apparently they're the worst kind." "Yes!" I said, excited. "I've got a friend who says that." It was only when she said something like, "I was startled when I read..." did I remember that I'd included the whole fish eating veggie thing in my book HEAD OVER FEET and she was quoting me. To me. And I didn't recognise it. The shame. (Angie - the "friend" was your husband, so I'm blaming you!)

Anyway, to end on a positive, ed is going on hols in a week or so and then the very day she gets back, I go. So I've got until the beginning of August to write another two chapters (one for each of the other two characters). They're going round and round in my head. I love starting a book. Can you remind me of that in a couple of months when I'm in the middle and wanting to throw the whole lot in the bin?

I think it works out quite neatly because I get to start the next two characters in July, then I can write one character a month in August, September and October, edit in November and have the whole lot done by December. Ha ha ha ha ha. You can remind me of that too...

Finally, I've found my next two inspiration Momiji dolls:

The one on the left is so cute I couldn't possibly not get her (also, she looks a bit like my editor!) and the one on the right just makes me think of Holly in HEAD OVER FEET. I have no idea why, because she looks nothing like the image I originally had of Holly, but as soon as I saw her I just thought "Holly" and now I might have to turn Holly into a redhead. And stick her in a rainstorm...

Readers needed!

I've asked this question in a couple of places already, so apologies if you've heard it before, but I'm looking for teenage girls to read my novels-in-progress and comment/advise/etc.

I've got a (secret) group on Facebook and I'd like to get up to ten members, but currently there are only four (and one of them is me).

If you know any teenage girls (probably between 13 and 18) who are into reading and would like to help me, please let me know. There'll be a free book in it for them (but it won't be until next summer when the book actually comes out) and, if I get to do an acknowledgments page, I'll thank them there too.

Call me Carrie Bradshaw

Yep. Look at me ... blogging to you LIVE from *cough* McDonalds. Not very Carrie, but it's the only place I've found with free wifi.

So far this eee has reduced my typing speed from about 80 words a minute to about 20, but I'm sure I'll get used to it...

One thing I do keep doing is confusing it with my Alphasmart and touching the screen. Also, every time I try to do an apostrophe, I accidentally hit, er, carriage return (wow, showing my age - what's it called on those new-fangled computer thingies?). Plus the keyboard is different to my Mac, but I'll get there in the end. Albeit quite slowly.

The keyboard is really tiny - I've got child-sized hands and I'm struggling ... David would be thumping it like an ape! - but it is very beautiful and the green makes me smile.

It's here! It's here!

I've been following it online...

CHILLY MAZARIN, PARIS --> ROISSY, PARIS --> KOELN (COLOGNE) --> EAST MIDLANDS AIRPORT --> LEYLAND

... which is just ridiculous, particularly considering I could have driven 20 mins down the road and bought the white one.

But it's so pretty. And even smaller than I expected it to be. It's in the hall now, trying to find a wireless connection. And then, this afternoon, I'm going to take it out and try it in public.

I'm a happy girl.

Well, bugger me

The postman's just been. With the cheque I've been waiting for since January. And they've even paid the interest and compensation that I added and in no way expected them to cough up.

Do you think there might be something in this flow of money thing after all?

And, yes, now I will pay the council tax. And get the car MOT'd. And maybe buy the new washing machine we've been putting off buying since, um, last year. (Yes, my mother-in-law has been doing all our washing for more than six months. What of it?)

Incidentally, that list just then did make me uncomfortable. I think I'd be okay with the MOT *or* the washing machine, but not both. Not right away, anyway.

Since I'm writing again, I'll just tell you about the other thing I want to buy (I know! It's all spend, spend, spend with me today!).

A while ago my sister bought me a Momiji Doll (this one). She said she saw it and thought of me, which was pretty nifty of her since I'd been talking myself out of buying one for ages ("You're 36! What do you need a little Japanese doll for? Where are you even going to put it?" etc.)

When I got my book deal, I decided to buy myself another. I wanted something I could look at and think, "Hee! I've got a book deal!" I found one called CleverClogs. It says (well, it reads - the dolls don't actually talk!): "Once upon a time there was a clever clogs and her name was you" which made me smile. Also, her likes are: "boys who wear glasses". I like boys who wear glasses too. So I bought her. Eventually. And she sits on my desk and makes me happy.

Then, after my meeting last week, I thought it would be good to buy a Momiji doll each time I start a new book (or start to finish an old one!). After wasting a ridiculous amount of time comparing dolls to find the one that I felt best represented the new book, I ended up choosing Pinku here. She likes "meteour [sic] showers and mountains". And, yes, a meteor shower might just make it into the book now. And someone may have pink hair (I always wanted pink hair), but probably not in Princess Leia cinnamon buns.

And, yes, I do appreciate how lucky I am that I can spend hours choosing a Momiji doll and call it work. (And - hey! - does that also mean I can claim them back against tax?!)

Spending money

Things are definitely looking up on the money front. I'm not entirely sure how since I haven't earned any more than usual and I'm still waiting for a cheque from January (January!), but we ended the month with money still in the savings account for the first time this year!

It could be as simple as the fact that one of the mags I write for has started paying me on a monthly basis rather than the whenever-they-got-around-to-it basis they've been paying me on for the past couple of years. Knowing when money's coming in makes all the difference, I find!

And I do seem to have been attracting money - well, a little anyway - an editor I did a couple of articles for about two years ago rang me out of the blue to offer me a lovely (and well-paid) commission. Of course, once I got the commission I immediately started stressing about how and when I'd get it done, but I'm trying to just treat that as being more my default reaction than any genuine concern about getting it done. (I find magazine commissions feel like homework hanging over me... I think Sarra Manning said that about writing fiction too, but I don't find that so much, or at least I haven't yet.)

Anyway, today I got paid quite a meaty chunk (probably not by a lot of people's standards, but certainly by mine!) and I've been noting my reactions to it. Since I knew exactly how much I was getting, I'd already made of list of stuff I had to spend it on:

1. Our summer hols to Norfolk. I've had all sorts of problems booking this - mainly of the kind that I refuse to pay double rates simply because I want to go away during school holidays. I found a lovely-looking, inexpensive cottage at the weekend, but had to wait until I got paid to book it. That one was easy to do. It was for the three of us. We're going in six weeks so it couldn't be put off. It wasn't a scary price. Done. (And since reading about restaurants serving fresh crab, I CANNOT wait to go.)

2. The eee pc. As you know, I have been dreaming about one of these since Sarah first told me about hers ages ago. I know I neeeeed it for the new book. But could I just get on and buy it? Not so much.

I rang a couple of electrical stores to see if they had it in stock so I could just go and get it (and not pay postage), but no. I knew that Toys R Us had it, but they didn't have it in green. Was I willing to pay extra (the postage) just for it to be green? Turns out I was. In fact, I was also willing to pay extra (in postage) to get it here quicker. I worried a little bit and faffed about doing price comparisons and checking for discounts, but I still managed to order it without too much discomfort.

3. Council tax. Due yesterday. I should pay it today. Turns out that, after spending more than half of my wages on the above, I can't bring myself to do it. I should be able to do it tomorrow.

And that's what I've noticed. I'd rather have the money sitting there a little longer than actually pay the bills that the money is for. Does that make sense? I know intellectually that the money is for the bills. It has to be spent. But the thought that I could wait to get paid and then pretty much spend the whole lot in one day makes me ... uncomfortable. Like twitching-eye uncomfortable.

I was thinking about something along the same lines the other day. No matter how much I read about the sodding credit crunch and how we may well end up in negative equity and how the best thing to do is pay down the mortgage because we will absolutely be paying more interest on the mortgage than we'll be earning on any savings, the fact of the matter is that having savings makes me feel more secure than paying extra on my mortgage would.

In fact, just having the savings (and I'm only talking a couple of hundred quid) makes me feel more secure about everything. Whenever I start to panic about money (which, as you know, I pretty much do whenever I think about it), I only have to remember the savings account to think, "Phew. That's okay then." Even thinking about how I blew through more than have my wages in about half an hour doesn't seem so bad when I remember that the money in the current account isn't all the money we have.

I might actually crack this money issue one of these days... Fingers crossed.

I so...

... can't be bothered to do any work.

I just keep checking my emails, looking at the eee pc on Amazon and sighing.

Maybe a bacon butty will help...

My first author lunch

Yesterday I went down to London to have lunch with my publishers!*

They introduced me to some sales and marketing people (one of whom asked me about promotion and answering questions for a biography and I almost swooned) and then we went to lunch...

... where I ate delicious tapas and blethered on endlessly about Harry. I woke up in the night and all I could hear was me jawing on about my son: childbirth, potty training, breastfeeding, big school... Sigh. Sometimes I forget that he may well be the most fascinating person in the world to *me*, but that doesn't make him the most fascinating person in the world to anyone else. (He is to you blog readers, though, right?!)

Anyway, we did actually talk about "work" - which reminds me: I waited for the train in Chorley, where the head office of my old company is and where I once went for a compulsory "induction" (despite the fact that I'd already been working there for about two years), at which I lost the very will to live. Standing on that platform, thinking "I'm going to London for lunch with my publishers because I've got a publishing deal" was the best feeling in the world. For some reason, I kept thinking, "On a Thursday!" like I'm so excited to be out and about on a school day. It's been almost three years (since I left work, not school) and it never gets old. :)

Yes, so work. They'd already mentioned that they weren't sure if FORGET ME NOT (which is written) is the right book to launch me with (anyone else picturing me being hit with a bottle and sent out to sea?), but the deal is for two books so we discussed what the other book might be. I suggested something, which we all seemed happy with and then I said, "So it won't be out next summer then?" and they looked at each other and said, yes, it could be. As long as I can have it written by the end of this year.

Eep. Okay then.
Of course, this means I absolutely, positively, *have* to have one of these.

But I neeeeeeeeed it (or at least I will, during the summer, when I - and Harry - don't want to be stuck indoors...unless it rains all summer like last year.)

Anyway, I deserve it. I'm going to be a published author, don't you know?

Also, when I got home (after Harry had greeted me on the train platform with "Middy! I MISSED you! I pedal my bike! My head bump bump ... like a bumblebee**"), my contract was waiting for me. It's been signed by the publishers, which, I guess, makes me a Signed Author. Yay!

* I'm trying not to use names (since I don't know if I can/should), so I'm being deliberately vague. In case you think I didn't catch their names or something!

** No, I've no idea. He's got a bump on his head, but it's got nothing to do with a bee.

N.B. The Snoopy pic is a notebook! From Forever 21. I need to go to New York again...

No, of course I didn't go back to bed!

Just wanted to share a post I wrote about my favourite kids TV for TVScoop and nagging for Bridalwave.

I bagsy the bad bags

I'm not sure that I ever mentioned I've started writing for The Bag Lady again. I realised today that I quite often find bags that are not only horrible, but also remind me of something...

For example, I wrote about the above bag yesterday and compared the picture on the left to Victoria Beckham's chest and the one on the right to a deeply satisfied Zippy from Rainbow - both mental images I could do without.

But there was also the Jabba the Hut bag...

The Smash Robots bag... and the bag that looks like a toad! It's not just me, is it?

Presenting ... Keris Stainton, author! :)

From my agent's website:

Now, before those of you who know exactly where I live stop laughing and start emailing/leaving comments calling me a stuck-up cow, I *did* actually think I lived in the Ribble Valley and it was only after the bio had gone live that David enlightened me (once he'd finished snorting) that I, in fact, do not.

The Ribble Valley only starts five minutes from here, though, so it's close enough, in my opinion. Plus it sounds a lot more authorish than the reality.

It sounds like I work accompanied by the sound of a babbling brook and can gaze out of my window to watch lambs gambolling*, when I actually work to the sound of learner drivers crunching their gears (we're on a test route) and can gaze out of my window at the car park of the factory next door. (Although there was that deer...)

So what I *should* have said was Lancashire. But I'm sticking with the fantasy. I mean, I'm an author! I'm supposed to make things up!

* Whenever we see/hear about/mention lambs gambolling, David says something like, "I'll see your ten and I'll raise you ten..." It doesn't work written down, but it makes me laugh every time.

Quick wedding question

I don't know if you know, but every Wednesday I pick a "first dance" song for Bridalwave.

I've been meaning to ask for a while, but kept forgetting ... will y'all tell me what your first dance songs were and, if you like, why you picked them?

Thanks!

(Our wedding was such a sad, low budget affair, we didn't even have a first dance ... how sad.)

Result!

Well you voted and the winner was the black and white pic!

Following some concern about the light switch in the background, a lovely reader, photographer Cara Donovan, offered to airbrush it out and here's the finished version.

I *heart* my blogging friends.

Which photo should I use?

Now this is going to seem like the most self-absorbed thing in the world, but wait! I have reasons!

I need to send a photo to my agent to put up on the website along with a short biog. I wasn't sure which of the following two to send, but, you know, I was planning on just making a snap decision and that would be it. But then...

Last night I dreamed that I put the pics on my blog and asked you, my lovely readers, to decide. There was even a Polldaddy poll in my dream, which was weird, because it's not the one I've been using, but who am I to argue with my subconscious?

I don't usually put so much stock in dreams, but lately I've been having some vivid uns and my friend Joyce (or Joyce-seph as I think I'll start calling her) has been interpreting them with quite startling results.

Also, along with the "pick my photo please" dream, there was also a Matthew McConaughey dream which I would be very happy to manifest in reality. (Get your minds out of the gutter! He's perfect for a character in one of my books!) (Also, I would totally do him.)

So please ... your votes? Your thoughts?

 

More book news

(I rather like having that little ladybird icon, so now I'm going to have a little forget me not too.)

First of all, thank you so much for all your lovely comments on my previous book post. You've all been so encouraging and supporting and it means a lot to me.

Now for the news:

I've accepted a two book deal with a major publisher!!!

I don't know if I can say anything else yet, so I won't, but I'm really very excited. So much so that, after I got the news this morning, I didn't stop shaking for about two hours!

More details as soon as I know what I can and can't say!

Book news

A publisher has made me an offer. Eep.

The business of writing

I'm really massively fed up today. Don't worry, those of you who know about the news I'm waiting for, it's nothing to do with that, it's just something that happened yesterday which sent me into a funk (get down!!) that I can't seem to shake. So today is going to be a random combination of work and treats (like Grand Designs on demand and cake).

Anyway, Money Month still isn't organised so I'll just ramble until it is. I'm reading The Rules of Wealth which I (kerching!) got from the library. (I want to read Paul McKenna's I Can Make You Rich, but it's £18.99, which kind of defeats the object.) One of the first things The Rules tells you to do is to set a figure that would make you comfortable and then to come up with some sort of plan.

Last night I asked David what figure would make him comfortable. "How much money," I said, "would we have to have in the bank for you to not be worrying about it." He put down his magazine. He scratched his head. He said, "I dunno ... £500?" Clearly, I am on my own with this project.

I've got a different figure in mind. It's not a massive figure and certainly not a life-changing figure, but it's a figure that would make me (perhaps) capable of spending £80 in Morrison's without lying awake at night thinking I probably should have got Own Brand Loops instead of premium Cheerios.

But then the plan reminded me of Janet Evanovich. I've been kind of faffing about with writing for years now. I've made progress* - some would say I've made good progress - over the last few years, but I'm still faffing. I don't write every day. I don't have a plan. I don't have goals or strategies or anything like that. I know that I need to get this in order, but I just never seem to have the time.

I don't know what you know about Janet Evanovich, but she originally wrote category romances (think Mills & Boon). She wrote four a year and she didn't make much money and so she changed tack:

Janet Evanovich was 52 when she decided she did not want to be a small success.

"I wanted to be a big success," she says with a large smile.

So she switched from writing paperback romances to a mystery series featuring a female bounty hunter from New Jersey.

A while ago I read an interview with her on a US financial website and it made a big impression on me, primarily because it made me realise that she didn't sit down and faff with the Stephanie Plum books, she came up with a plan, she researched (for two years!), she branded and she got on with it. Plus the beginning of this answer sounds very much like me.

Bankrate: Did you always have a head for business?

Janet: No, I was always kind of the weird kid, sort of the goof-off who walked to my own beat**. I was a stay-at-home mom. Whatever job I had, I always tried to do the best job I could, and when I became a writer, I just had that same philosophy. What I realized after a couple romances was that you couldn't neglect the business side of it because that was an integral part of being the best you could be as an author.

Her first advance was for around $8,000, her latest is worth $10 million per book (and it's a four book deal).

Of course, whenever I think of making writing a business I think I need to subscribe to Writers' Digest and The Bookseller, join Romance Writers of America, get business cards and buy a laptop - none of which I can swing*** at the moment - but of course the first and most important thing I need to do is write. So, on that note, I'm off.

* Including my first publication in a book of essays about ... Janet Evanovich's books.

** Just as an aside, I *literally* walked to my own beat when I was younger. One of my friends once said she always thought I had a Walkman on and was walking in time to the music. But no.

*** I've read a number of times that you should never say "I can't afford" something because it puts you in a position of lack (or something like that). Really I *can* afford all that stuff based on our income, but I choose to spend my money on something else. Granted, that's the mortgage and other bills, but still.

How Juno can help you be a better writer*

I'm only part of the way through this article ("Juno's Secondary Characters") on Writing for Performance, but I had to stop and share this bit of dialogue:

JUNO: So, who's ready for some photomagnificence?

GIRL LAB PARTNER: I have a menstrual migraine, and I can't look at bright lights today.

GUY LAB PARTNER: Amanda, I told you to go to the infirmary and lie down. You never listen.

GIRL LAB PARTNER: No Josh, I don't take orders.  Not from you and not from any man.

That makes me so happy, I can't even tell you.

* Yes, this means I can buy the DVD and write it off against tax. Yay!

Yesterday...

I can't say too much about it - a) because I don't want to jinx it, and b) because the two lovely women I met have threatened to read my blog today to see what I say about them, so if I'm a bit bashful and self-conscious for a little while, that's why. (Don't worry I'll be back to talking about poo* and Dancing With the Stars - it's back on Good Friday! - in no time...) (*not really.)

All I'll say is that it went much better than I expected and I'm cautiously ... completely overexcited.

Before the meeting I met up with Emily and she was just as lovely as expected. I still haven't met any nutters via t'internet. One of you must be a nutter! Who is it? (Is it you, Jonathan?)

Afterwards I popped in to see my friend Jo who I haven't seen since the last time I was in London for an exciting meeting. (And I was wearing the same skirt. I'm such a fashionista.)

Then I picked up some Krispy Kremes (oh, Krispy Kremes, when will you come up north?) and got back on the train.

When I got home, David had bought me a bottle of my favourite red wine and a bar of good dark chocolate.

A lovely day all round.

I love Lola

I am absolutely buying this for my office door.

You know how I want to finish my novel by the end of this week?

On the way home from Morecambe yesterday (we had fish and chips, sitting in the car, staring out to sea ... heh), Harry, who'd been on great form all day, suddenly said his ear was sore. He fell asleep for a little while, but then woke up very grumpy.

We put him in bed, but he kept waking up, boiling hot and complaining about his ear. He's never had an ear infection before, but that sodding cough's been back for the past week or so, so I thought an ear infection was possible.

Last night he slept with me, boiling hot and waking frequently to complain about his ears, ask me to sing Truly Scrumptious to his toy dog, and to recite the alphabet (poor kid should give himself a break - the SATs are years off!).

Today, of course, I kept him off school, but he was incredibly delicate and I couldn't get near the computer (he was too ill to even yell his favourite new saying, which, yes, he's learned from me: "But I just said NO!") because he was watching DVDs and whimpering about his ears, eyes and nose. (So horrible when he was saying, "Kiss it a-better" and offering me his ears. I could kiss them, but I couldn't make them better, poor lamb.)

We took him up to the pharmacist this afternoon and finally managed to get both Calpol and cough med down him and by bedtime he'd perked right up, but today was a write-off.

Excuses, excuses

Sorry to have been a bit quiet lately. There are a few reasons:

1. The letter "o" on my keyboard is loose and Harry thinks it's hilarious to pop it off and hand it to me with a big grin ... and now it won't go back on. Now typing hurts my wrists.

2. Like Claire, if I dream about someone, I generally become obsessed. The other night it was John Oliver from The Daily Show. So I can't blog because I'm busy watching clips of Mock the Week on YouTube. (Also, if you think he's another one of my dodgy crushes (how dare you!) then read this and you'll see why I love him so very much.)

3. I've got a novel to finish writing (not that I've written anything so far this week...).

4. I've got a novel to finish reading (Meg Cabot's Princess Diaries To the Nines).

5. I've got a Christmas tree to dispose of...

Stormy weather

I don't mind cold. I don't mind windy. I don't even mind wet. But all three at once? For two weeks? Well, that's just taking the piss.

In other news, the novel's going surprisingly well. I'm starting to feel like I'm on the home stretch and I'd forgotten how thrilling that is.

I don't think I typed "The End" at the end of the last one, but I will at the end of this one and will then celebrate by scoffing every last one of the delicious chocs lovely Stella sent me (that's if there are any left, I caught Harry trying to sneak them out of my office earlier - he was literally tiptoeing, while looking back at me over his shoulder).

An unrelated Harry anecdote: This morning he inadvertently poked me in the eye. I said, "Ow" (naturally) and he said, as he's taken to doing lately, "Kiss it a-better." He kissed it and then said, "Okay, sweetie?"

My new routine

New year, new routine. And so far it seems to be going swimmingly (well, it is only the 11th...).

I realised the other day that I always used to be the one to get up and make the tea in the morning and for some reason this job had become poor David's. So I've started getting up and making him a proper tea, while I have a herbal (more refreshing).

When Harry gets up me and him have breakfast and get dressed and then it's time for preschool. I walk back and then, before I do anything else, find a song to dance to on YouTube (this morning it was S Club Juniors' One Step Closer - marvellous).

(Yes, much to Harry's joy, the computer is still in the living room because my office is full - *full* - of books. They're piled on the desk, on the chair, on the floor. I need to sort them into a better order and I need to send a bunch out in the post, but I just haven't yet had the time.)

Once I've had my five minute dance, I put the telly on and, while I add the video to the blog (this blog!), upload a photo to the photo album (on this blog) and then write my blog (like now), I "watch" as much of Wanted Down Under as remains and then switch over to Will & Grace on Channel 4+1 (and when that's finished I've got my Gilmore Girls DVDs).

Then I make myself a cup of tea and get on with the rest of the work - a bit of the novel, Trashionista and Bridalwave until it's time to go and get Harry.

In the afternoon (Monday and Friday when me and H are home together), we play, watch DVDs, read and do the stickers in CBeebies magazine and I do some housework (to be fair, I don't usually get further than the kitchen) and drink lots of tea (me, not H, although he has been known to ask for a "brew", hehe).

I like routine and I love this new one. In fact, I'll be fed up when the weather changes and we have to go out and, you know, do stuff.

The writing's on the wall

This is my second YA novel, Head Over Feet, in post-its on the wall.

I've seen other authors do this and now I know why. The different coloured post-its (and they're not really that bright in real life) represent the five separate threads of the novel.

So the first quarter, up there on the left, shows the threads each being introduced gradually until all five are active.

The second quarter, on the right, is not only way too short, there's a plot hole (on that second row, the green post-it - which represents the MC's boyfriend - isn't there).

The bottom of the picture is the second half of the book and, look, it's a mess. Tons of plot holes. The boyfriend's all but disappeared. The pink post-its represent the MC's internal monologue and there's way more of that than anything else.

Plus, it's so much easier to see what needs to be moved, move the post-it and then move the relevant section in the manuscript, then just to work with the ms. And I can see the entire book at a glance.

Magic. And it'd better be since I promised my agent I'd have this to her by the end of the month. Better stop blogging and start writing, eh?

Sent from my Blackberry Wireless Handheld Lounge

So a couple of weeks ago I brought my (very heavy) computer downstairs and found it much easier to write my novel without the distraction of the internet.

This morning I brought it down again and planned to leave it down all weekend. Got a chunk of writing (okay, rearranging) done this morning and within a couple of hours (okay, minutes), started having internet withdrawal. I didn't want to cart the computer back upstairs just to check my stupid emails, but then I had a thought...

Where was the internet connection coming from? Yes, it was in my office, but where did that wire actually go? I followed it to the connecting thing in the wall and wondered if I could just connect downstairs. I pulled up all the wiring, brought it downstairs and tried to plug it into the phone socket. It didn't fit. I took it all back upstairs again.

Then I realised that the connection upstairs was an extension and the wire actually ran down the stairs. To what? And where? I couldn't remember. I wandered around the lounge a bit, scratching my head and then remembered... It's connected to the sodding cable box, isn't it. Obviously!

So then it was just the small matter of getting the wire, pulling out the telly, changing the connection, bringing the computer into the living room from the front room, restarting everything... And here I am!

Of course, the first thing Harry did was bring me a DVD to play on the computer. Despite the fact that he's already watching a DVD on the TV. If he really thinks he's going to watch two at once, he's got another think coming. (He's sitting next to me now, mouth hanging open in front of the Tweenies Christmas while clutching Baby Shakespeare hopefully.) (He's just said, "Baby d'Einstein? No, not the TV. The 'puter!")

Oh and I only had one interesting email. And 12 boring ones.

(But it will actually be useful for getting ahead on some work over the weekend - I realised this morning that I've only got one morning to work next week and then it's the Christmas holidays!) (Also for finally finishing watching those Rescue Me DVDs that won't play on the TV.)

Pro-active procrastination

I read this a few weeks ago and it contains some of the best advice on dealing with procrastination that I've ever read. 

The wrong five o'clock

Yes, I'm writing this at 4.58am. I've been up since 2.20 and awake since who-knows-what time. Do you think I'm wigging out? You're right.

I don't know what's up with me. Yes, I've got a fair amount of work to do, but nothing I can't handle. Yes, I need to do some work in advance to cover for New York and because I've got a coffee morning at Harry's school on Friday, but I've done it before. Yes, I've been neglecting this blog (and I still need to answer Stella's comments on Studio 60) but you're not going anywhere, are you, loyal readers?

But yesterday I got a gargantuan list of edits on an article I'd just submitted. While that may not seem like much, it knocked me for six. Firstly because I don't usually get any edits. When I first started writing features, I would submit the piece and then "go dark" for the day - no internet, no phone - because I couldn't bear the thought of any criticism. You must know by now how I feel about criticism, yes? And while journo friends told me it wasn't personal, to me everything is personal - EVERYTHING!

So while I'm not quite so bad these days, what an editor may see as "you just need to tighten this up and expand this quote" I receive as "you are completely shit and we only use you because there isn't anyone else ... and you're cheap". This is not good for my self-esteem. Or my health. Or, apparently, my sleep patterns.

But it wasn't just the edits - I flailed around and ranted a bit at first, but then I got on with them - seeing my stress levels soaring, David suggested that we cuddle up and watch a film. I chose The Night Listener partly because I love Armistead Maupin, but also because I could review it for Trashionista (see? always working).

We sat down to watch it. It was claustrophobic and unpleasant and I can't say I was enjoying it, but then David paused it to check the football results and I took the opportunity to check my email (of course). Big mistake. The internet was down.

David had unplugged the phone so we wouldn't be disturbed mid-movie, so of course I ran downstairs in a tear, blaming him for arseing up the connection and therefore making it impossible for me to work which "couldn't have come at a worse time" since I had "too much on  already" and "as if things weren't bad enough", etc. Yes, I lost it. And poor David looked bewildered and said, "Surely just unplugging the phone wouldn't have done it..."

"Oh yes!" I blubbered. "I suppose it's just a coincidence?!"

Yeah, it was. Virgin Media were having "technical difficulties" in our area.

I seem to be having technical difficulties in my brain...

New Smug Married column

Here. (Oh and you can also read all about me here - you know, if you don't already know more than enough about me.)

New Smug Married column

Here.

Storyville

My life coach Suzy Greaves^TM* has recently launched a writing academy called Storyville.

She runs "teleconferencing masterclasses" with Hollywood scriptwriters and best-selling novelists and, if I know Suzy (and I do) it'll be marvellous.

The next one - How to write a novel in 90 days - is scheduled for the 15th August.

*she doesn't make me say that, I just think it's funny whenever I say "my life coach Suzy Greaves"

More Smug Married

Here.

Technologically challenged

In the relatively near future I'd like to get myself a laptop. Because I'm doing so much (everything really) online, I'd quite like to be able to go out and about rather than being stuck in my (admittedly delightful) office all the time.

And it would be good if I could work downstairs with Harry instead of working on my Alphie and then transferring everything to the Mac. The Alphie's great, but a laptop would be better.

So I know I want a MacBook, but apart from that I'm stuck.

I don't think I need a MacBook Pro (do I?), but even choosing between the three ordinary MacBooks has got me flummoxed:

For £699 I can get

• 2.0GHz Intel Core 2 Duo
• 1GB memory
• 80GB hard drive
• Combo drive

in white. Or for £829 I can get 

• 2.16GHz Intel Core 2 Duo
• 1GB memory
• 120GB hard drive
• Double-layer SuperDrive

Also in white. Or for £949 I can get

• 2.16GHz Intel Core 2 Duo
• 1GB memory
• 160GB hard drive
• Double-layer SuperDrive

in black. Core 2 Duo? Double-layer SuperDrive? I don't even know what GHz means! Is 40GB of hard drive worth an extra £120? I don't even know if I want a black one or a white one. The MacBook Pro is silver. Silver!

The Mac I've got now has 512MB and it's full (we've had it for about 18 months). Seriously, sometimes I'll try to save a photo and it won't save until I've deleted some I no longer need.

Hold the phone! Colour is no longer an issue, since I've just discovered this deely on the right. It seems to be a skin (I believe they're called) for the Mac. I don't know how it works, but I know I want one.

And is it worth shopping around, or is the Apple Store always cheapest? It was cheapest by far for our iPods. And what about buying second hand? And will anyone want to buy my eMac once I've got my lovely shiny MacBook?

So many questions. Can anyone help? Anyone? Bueller? (And, yes, I'm aware this is what's known as a high class problem.)

The wit to woo

Second Smug Married column here.

Smug Married

I'm writing a new weekly column for Bridalwave on married life. David's not impressed cos he thinks I'll just be taking the piss out of him every week. He's not wrong.

How Oprah Winfrey changed my life

I know I've written about O magazine before, but on Wednesday night we went out with our friends Claire and Neil and Claire was mocking my love of Ms Winfrey's self-titled tome (sorry, I'll stop talking like that now).

Claire's not the first of my friends to mock (Hi, Jo!) - and I've said before that I bought the first issue with the intention of mocking it myself - but it is such an incredible, wonderful magazine, that I find myself unable to explain just what's so great about it when put on the spot. I kind of get misty-eyed and overexcited instead. (Yes, I am that sad.)

Okay, first of all Claire was put off by the fact that Oprah appears on the cover of every issue. I don't have a problem with that myself, but I think you do have to accept that Oprah has a giant ego, make peace with that, and move on.

I read a lot (a lot!) of magazines for work and O is so much better than every other magazine. The only British magazine that comes close is Psychologies and that's only because it's ripped off O (themed issues, similar layout, "what we're like, not what we look like" M.O.). While I like Psychologies, O manages to cover the same ground with much more humour and feeling. I find Psychologies just a little bit po-faced and cold. (My favourite British magazine is Red, but it's aspirational, rather than inspirational.)

O is feminist, intelligent, inspiring and beautfully written. I read most magazines in the loo (well, I say "read" - of the average magazine, I probably read two features and scan the rest) - I read O from cover to cover and often haven't finished the last one when the next arrives.

And because the writing is of such high quality, I'll read stuff in O that I wouldn't bother with in other magazines. This morning, for example, I read an article called A Little Mouse Music. Written by Cathleen Medwick, it's about how scientists recently discovered that male mice sing to attract females:

Moments of inspiration can come quickly, even casually. When they slowed the mouse sounds, Timothy Holy [one of the scientists] later wrote, they heard something unusual, "like a series of breathy whistles," and when they dropped the pitch several octaves, they didn't hear grunts or whines or frantic yodels of lust. They heard something wonderfully like music. A melodic trillling. A rhythmic thrumming. An ultrasonic welcome to the dance of life.

Can you imagine reading something like that in a British women's magazine?

The April issue featured a Worst-Case-Scenario Handbook which included an essay by Beverly Donofrio about being raped in her own home. It made me cry. It made me furious. And ultimately it made me proud to be a woman.

Funnily enough, it was while staying at Claire and Neil's house a few years ago that I read some of the "Joy" issue of O and realised I wanted more joy in my life, which led me down the road that's resulted in me writing for a living.

So mock away. But buy a copy too. It might change your life.

Hold the front page!

Thanks to Diane, I'm in the Daily Telegraph!

My inlaws "take" the Telegraph. Perhaps they'll now believe I've got a proper job.

Work ennui

Yep, it's moaning time again. When I used to work in an office, sometimes the volume of work would get to be too much and I'd pull everything out of my in-trays, stick it all in a big pile, make myself a cup of tea and power through. I always surprised myself by how much I got done.

Now? Not so much. Tons to do. Can't stop faffing. Was just complaining to my sister about how I never seem to have time to get everything done and she said, "Not talking to me for half an hour might help." But it wouldn't! It didn't on Tuesday!

Every day (in fact, the night before), I have great intentions about the massive amounts of everything I'm going to accomplish and it all seems eminently doable and I can't understand why I haven't managed it before and then ... meh.

Hmmm... (updated)

The excited response to my recent posts about breastfeeding and tests/scans (thanks for all your stories by the way) has made me think about maybe starting a parenting blog.

What do you think? Would anyone be interested?

Okay. So if I was to start a parenting blog, what would I call it (I'm rubbish at this kind of thing, sorry).

Blatant self-promotion

I'm reviewing Any Dream Will Do over at TV Scoop. You can read this week's here and there's a link to last week's at the end. I've also reviewed Grease Is the Word. I hated it.

I'm also writing a column or three for the new Shiny women's site, DollyMix. Read about Alanis's Humps here and why I love Roseanne here.

I'm an idiot

Not only have I managed to miss ANTM twice already this week (on Monday because I taped Heroes by mistake, last night because we were at the in-laws and they haven't got Living), but even if I do manage to see it, I won't be able to blog it because my Alphie is dead. Dead!

I took it out for the day on Tuesday to write in Starbucks and when I took it out of my bag it had a message for me: Fatal error. It won't switch off. It won't charge up. I took the battery out, but the message remained. I'm very sad. That very morning I'd been thinking about what an excellent purchase it had been and how useful it would be in the summer, enabling me to go and write in the park and then - pfft. Dead.

David says thinking about how much I loved it was a sure-fire way to jinx (and, therefore, kill) it, but that's just crazy talk. I'm going to rind the help hotline and if that doesn't help I'm off to ebay for a new one. Perhaps one with

And at that point I thought about looking in the manual. Which suggested I press the 'soft reset' button on the back. Which I did. And it's fine. I'm an idiot.

Yesterday

Drank: Decaf latte; still water; a second decaf latte

Ate: Pain au Raisin, Egg Mayo sandwich

Read: Encylopedia of an Ordinary Life; Bed Rest; The Bookseller, Parenting, Martha Stewart Outdoors (inspired to empty out the shed ... again); Parents, Architectural Digest (swooned over: Demi and Ashton’s amazing “treehouse” home); Self; LighterLife (I've got an article in it); texts from David; Us Weekly*; People; First (gasped at the sad - but unsurprising - picture of Tom, Katie and Suri (24-30 March issue, if you’re interested - page 26); Julia Cameron’s The Right to Write; O At Home (envied Kate Walsh’s gorgeous Art Deco home); Rhonda Stapleton’s Stripped; O magazine.

Wrote: New ending for Forget Me Not; the answers to questions which will help me formulate my “brand”; a review of Bed Rest for Trashionista; answers to Karen Salmansohn’s questions; a future DollyMix column; notes for