Nothing about writing today. I'm going to tell you about spells instead. I once gave one to Jane Wenham-Jones where she had to carve her name, with a new pin (old ones have memories) up one side of a candle and the title of the novel she wanted to sell up the other side. I told her to burn the candle every day and concentrate on the flame and visualise her book in print. Oh, there were other bits to keep her busy, like finding glitter and bergamot oil to anoint the candle with. But it worked! She believed so it worked.
So I decided to do a spell to sell this house. It came from a book of spells and involved placing an anonymous key (thank you to Teresa Ashby and Irene Yates for providing keys) on a mirror in front of a white candle. There were some beautiful words to recite (if you want the whole spell contact me via my website) and then, once the candle had burned down we (the LSO and I) had to wear the keys around our necks. I couldn't do that. I never wear necklaces or tight collars so I put the key in my pocket. That lasted about ten days then I wore a skirt with no pocket so I tied the key to the loop inside the skirt, the ones used for securing to coathangers. I forgot that I failed my knot badge at Brownies so later that day when taking a comfort break it wasn't a kidney stone that went clunk down the loo. It was my spell. Bad karma? No. I decided the spell had taken a leap because it was no longer needed. Within hours (honestly) we had a call from the estate agents and someone came to see the house and fell in love with it. Two days later someone else came and fell in love with the house. Both want it but both need to sell their own places first. Perhaps I should have been more specific when asking the Cosmos for a buyer - a cash one please - but no-one can say that spell didn't work.
Got to go now. While the rest of you are NaNoWriMo-ing like crazy I'm going to MOT my broomstick.