I should be writing

I wish it was for real

2012-02-17T16:46:00.002Z

Computers often come up with scary messages. Twice I've had the blue screen of death. I've had 'all files being dumped'. Why can't Microsoft come up with sensible messages like this one?

Did you miss me?

2012-02-14T09:47:00.002Z

It’s been a while.
It’s one of those times when life got in the way of writing. Or health
to be precise. It’s not easy being stuck like a question mark for weeks but, on the positive side, if I’d never had a bad back I would never have sat down long enough to write anything. And I've had a bad back since 1970.
I’ve been reading. Read One Day by David Nicholls which was our Book Club choice for this month. I cheated and did something I usually never do – read the last page to find out what happened. But David Nicholls had the last laugh because what actually happened was a chapter or two before the end though you need to read the rest of the book, if you haven’t already done so.
I caught up on a pile of magazines, two of them being People’s Friend and My Weekly in which my stories appeared. And I read Sue Johnson’s inspiring book, Creative Alchemy - 12 steps from inspiration to finsihed novel. This one is a small book with the most gorgeous cover and it is filled with inspirational ideas and exercises, not only for writing novels but for short stories too. I haven’t put it on the bookshelf yet because, now that I can sit upright and stand straight, I
intend going back to it, this time with pen and paper to do those exercises. Yeah, and I’ll do the physio ones too.
Off for a stretch!

Being positively productive

2012-01-10T09:25:00.003Z

Thank goodness for Simon Whaley's book, The Positively Productive Writer. I read it from cover to cover in one sitting whilst saying things like, 'I do that', 'I used to do that and will start again', 'I ought to do that', 'I'll do that in future'... You get the picture. It's all positive stuff meant to keep writers going as opposed to teaching them how to write. I'll be reading it again. And again. It's the kick up the backside I so often need. You need it too. You know you do.
It's also helped me to realise that these last three weeks of no writing don't matter. I will catch up now that I have a new computer - the old one had a fatal illness. It's taken me a while to choose a new one and get it organised. One problem was I'd never de-fragged the old desktop so many files are in the wrong places. As Betty says, 'De-fragging doesn't sound like something a lady would ever do.' I didn't back up often enough either. Now I'm paying for it.
So with the sound advice from Simon and some words from The Universe - 'Turn up and keep taking baby steps' (see www.tut.com for your daily message) I am ready to dazzle my way through 2012. The brightness began with an acceptance from Fiction Feast. I had a 100 percent success rate with short stories last year. I wrote five and sold five. Must write more this year. For some reason I stopped writing them. Unlike my sister, Glynis Scrivens, who in 2011 sold 57 stories. What an inspiring sister to have. You're glowing, Glynis!

Transgender Winter

2011-12-15T12:12:00.003Z

Sorry, dear author, but I couldn't resist that title for this post. You did give me permission to reveal your identity. Yes, Douglas McPherson has changed sex and written a pocket novel and here's the cover of the Ulverscroft version which is available to borrow from public libraries or can be purchased from Ulverscroft on 0116 236 4325.
Nashville Cinderella is the rags to riches story of Cindy Coin, an aspiring country singer waiting tables in Music City, Tennessee, and hoping her prince can get her to the ball at the Grand Ole Opry!
And knowing Douglas, Oops! Julia, it’ll be a mighty fine read.

Wise words

2011-12-08T12:10:00.002Z

When I was in my early teens my parents split up. When I was thirty I found my Dad again. My mother didn't like me seeing him and I'd get the third degree if she thought I had. Then I saw this letter in a women's magazine and copied it into the little book I keep all inspiring or thoughtful quotes in.
I don't know who wrote it. The letter was anonymous but, if you're out there, please know that your words helped me so much. Here they are-

You make us feel guilty, disloyal, emotionally torn and you cross examine us, even after we've been hurt so much. Who am I talking about?
The children of divorced parents. We are a product of when you were together and whatever your feelings towards each other now, please respect us enough to realise we still want you both.
Don't make us choose all the time - this isn't a threat to either of you. So please think next time you won't go somewhere because he/she will be there, or want to know every word he/she has said.
You've made your choice. Don't condemn us to a life torn between you both.

11.11.11

2011-11-11T11:01:00.003Z

No apologies for re-using this from last year.

True Requiem by Edgar Billingham.

Not for you, soldier, mourn we,
Young, and dead quickly,
But for you, schoolgirl, who never knew him,
Yet who must now go unloved and childless to the grave,
And for you, father, so proud,
And for you, mother,
Remembering the little hands.

True Requiem appeared in Edgar's book, Midland Poems, in 1944 and was praised by J B Priestley and described as 'one of the most poignant fragments of this or any war'.
Edgar was a founder member of Worcester Writers' Circle, begun in 1941.

Three Beautiful Window Things

2011-10-28T10:56:00.000Z

There’s a rainbow on my desk where the cold sunshine is coming through the window. I cup my hands so I can hold the rainbow.

Three tiny handprints show up in the condensation on the window pane. Proof that 21 month Amelia visited yesterday.

It’s raining leaves and feathers. Actually, only one of each. I see them drift past my window.

What are you doing Saturday?

2011-10-13T09:53:00.001Z

That's Saturday 15 October, and I shall be in Wellington, Shropshire. Apparently Wrekin Writers ‘are delighted that Lynne Hackles has agreed to run the October workshop’. I hope they’ll be as delighted by the time I’ve spent the day with them.
The day is actually split into two workshops. From 10am to 12.30pm (£5 or £4.50 if you book in advance) I’m running one on Ghost-writing, something worth every writer considering if they are trying to earn money from their art.
From 1.30 to 4.00pm (£5 or £4.50 if you book in advance) there’s Short Story Writing. I shall be covering writing for magazines as well as for competitions.
To reserve your place on either or both of these workshops, log on to www.wrekinwriters.co.uk or phone Darren Bailey on 01952 405 178.
The Civic Centre, Wellington @ 10am and/or 1.30pm

I can't lose these

2011-09-27T07:47:00.002Z

Here are a couple of my pens. The duck one used to have green sparkly hair but he moulted. The red one is a perfect solution to anyone who ever fancied writing with a quill - a ballpoint with a feather! I love pens like this because they are easy to find in my handbag. They make people smile. They do not get lost and no-one ever walks away with them.

I learned the latter when, many years ago, I worked at Malvern Theatre in the box office. Customers would borrow a pen to sign a cheque and then, mostly men, would put it in their pocket. They didn't mean to take it. Pocketing it was just a natural response once they'd finished writing. Our solution was long green pens with vividly coloured plastic tulips on the end. Strangely, no-one pocketed them and if they did they noticed immediately and returned them with a smile. Those tulips stayed with us until the ink ran out.

A gift from the LSO

2011-09-21T07:01:00.003Z

It's perfect, isn't it? Perfect for me and for most writers.

And it's even more perfect when the LSO fills it with tea and deposits it on my desk without uttering a word and interrupting my flow of words. (I always pretend to be busy when he comes through the writing room door.)

Has anyone got...

2011-09-17T07:22:00.002Z

a copy of Take A Break with my story in it? I've been checking the magazine every week but obviously missed it and didn't realise until my bank statement arrived. (Looked good!)
If anyone has a copy perhaps you could get in touch, please.

Ready to fight

2011-08-29T08:11:00.002Z

I've recently been sent some old photos of my family and this is one I'd not seen before so it was very welcome.
My grandfather, Dennis Crump, is on the left. He was a Bantam, a soldier under 5 feet 2 inches. His best friend, Tom Young, is with him. This was WWI.
When Uncle Tom was around 95 and went into hospital he was asked if he'd ever been in before. There were no notes for him. I suppose this must have been in the early 1990s. He said he had, back in WWI when he'd been gassed.
One day, during the war, Tom was in France when he saw a little soldier. He asked if he was a Bantam and was told yes. So he asked after his best friend and was told the camp wasn't far away where he'd find him. Tom borrowed a bicycle and pedalled out there only to discover that Dennis had been sent home wounded.
As I grow older family photos mean so much more.

Censoring

2011-08-18T08:01:00.002Z

I was in a second-hand bookshop yesterday when one of the volunteers proudly announced that she had ripped up a children's book because it was unsuitable.
I had to walk out before I said anything but later, calmer, I returned and asked why. I was given the torn covers of the best-selling book for parents, called Go The F*ck To Sleep. I explained that it wasn't a children's book but one written by a parent for parents who'd had a child like mine - one who didn't sleep for more than two hours at a time for the first three years of her life.
And then I walked out before I started on about how she might like to start a trend and build a few book bonfires...

The Quiz

2011-08-03T06:32:00.004Z

Sunday night at Caerleon is Quiz Night. Helen Yendall and Christine Cherry set the quiz and ask the questions. They must devote a lot of time to this and always treat us to a good night. We split into teams of six. So why are there five of us here? That's because Simon Whaley took the photo. Our team's name was Whaley's Women and we came second.

From left to right. Irene Yates, author of over 300 educational books and regular short story writer for Woman's Weekly.

Elizabeth Moulder who writes stories for Woman's weekly and other magazines.

Me, who does a bit of everything (except poetry and porn), hence my course name for next year's Writers' Holiday - Butterfly Writing.

Paula Williams. Fast becoming the name to go with Teresa and Della when it comes to short stories and serials. Paula took this year's class on short story writing.

Angela Lanyon, playwright and author of a fantasy trilogy - The Swordsman's Reel.

What good company Simon had! You could have company like this too. Everyone mixes and everyone is friendly at Writers' Holiday. Think about booking for next year. Info will be on the website soon. http://www.writersholiday.net/

The Holiday in Writers' Holiday

2011-08-02T13:07:00.003Z

At the last moment, just before leaving home, I made the decision to leave my laptop behind and concentrate on the holiday part of Writers' Holiday at Caerleon. I wondered if I could go cold turkey and give writing a rest. So, for the first half of the week, with stomach churning and hands shaking, I stepped out of my comfort zone and went to the painting and drawing class.

The last time I had a paintbrush in my hand was when I was 14 so nerves were to be expected but once I'd got started I really enjoyed painting this scene.

Several men were asked if they'd like to see my etchings.

Countdown to Caerleon

2011-07-20T06:39:00.002Z

Not long now. Only 4 Big Sleeps and I’ll be there, at Writers’ Holiday which is held at the University of South Wales, Caerleon, Newport each year.
I wish I could go back to 2007 when Jane Wenham-Jones, Trish Maw, Irene Yates, the beautiful Maureen Devlin, who died in 2009, and I shared a floor. (There are five en-suite rooms to each floor.) But we can never go back in time. Each year changes, but every one of them has been good.
I think this will be my tenth year and this time I am a delegate. Usually I teach so this is going to be different again. What is always the same is the friendliness of Writers’ Holiday, the huge amounts of good food, the generous tutors and speakers…
If you’ve never been then think about 2012, when I’ll be teaching and Jane Wenham-Jones will be a speaker, and go to www.writersholiday.net to keep an eye out for next year’s programme and booking forms. It’s worth every penny. And if you can’t wait and can cope with last minute decisions, nip over now and put in a late booking, then introduce yourself to me on Sunday.
You’ll have to be quick. There’s only 4 Big Sleeps remaining.

A word from Wolfe

2011-07-12T08:55:00.001Z

A few words, actually. They are from Humbert Wolfe and I'm not sure when they were written. Definitely ages ago.

You cannot hope
to bribe or twist,
Thank God, the
British journalist.

But seeing what
the man will do
unbribed, there's
no occasion to.

News of the What?

2011-07-12T06:49:00.002Z

My old Gran would have hated it - the death of News of the Screws. She would read it from cover to cover, every Sunday without fail, and all the time she would be tutting and sucking in her breath. And she'd mutter very quietly, 'It's all S...E...X!'

Smooth or ribbed?

2011-07-07T08:20:00.001Z

‘Smooth or ribbed?’ groaned Sir Walter, hose around his ankles, as he reached into his doublet pocket for his trusty Durex.

Think I’ve gone mad? No. I’m just mad about a silly story in The Telegraph announcing that ‘Mills and Boon “cause marital breakdown”. Apparently romantic novels are a cause of marital breakdown, adulterous affairs, unwanted pregnancies, and are a danger to relationships and sexual health.
That is the verdict of an article in the Journal of Family Planning and Reproductive Health Care, which said women struggle to distinguish between romantic fiction and real life. Poor us. Stupid women who can’t tell the difference between the ‘chiselled menfolk' of fiction and the bloke with the beer pot we’re actually married to. (Not the LSO I hasten to add, in case he reads this.)
Miss Quilliam, who is a sexual health professional says her profession ‘like condoms - for protection and for contraception - and they (romantic novels) don't.’
To learn how dangerous romantic novels are to your sexual health and relationships click on the link below to read more extracts from Miss Quilliam's article which was published by the BMJ on behalf of the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/booknews/8620883/Mills-and-Boon-cause-marital-breakdown.html

Yesterday - the final piece

2011-06-17T07:39:00.001Z

Today's post is the final section of my friend Josi's piece on some childhood memories. Enjoy!

Yesterday, when I was young....
We were the “Happy Hoppers”. We went on "Holiday" to Kent every August to pick hops. There were cheap tickets on the railways and we had old fashioned prams to put stuff in because they held a lot and were easy to push. We went every year and were there when war was declared. We didn't go back to Walworth until we were forced to.
Mrs. Tolhurst owned the farm at Paddock Wood where my Dad was a Polepuller. He had to cut the bines that held the hops up until they were ready to pick.
The picking made all your fingers black and sticky and all your food tasted weird because there was nowhere to wash your hands. We knew some lovely people there. They must have been the only real friends my Mum and Dad had because my family was always 'moonlight-flitting'. But every summer there would be the Porter and Collins families from Cable St, East London.
After half a century I would still recognise any of those people.
The four of us slept in a hut about 12' by 12' square. If it rained during the day, we lived in it too. There was one big bed with straw in the mattress. We two kids slept at the foot. Oil lamps, all smoky. Outdoor cooking. Four privies for about two hundred people. So much for hygiene. There wasn't a washbasin with a tap for about two miles. And toilet paper did not exist as we know it.
The Red Cross had a little Hoppers Hospital where first aid was freely given. My Dad was eating a slice of cake one day and rested it on the edge of the bin, (plates were for cissies!) When he bit into the cake he had bitten a wasp in half. The working bit stayed in his tongue. He almost choked and had to hold on tight to a pillion for a motor bike ride to the little cottage hospital at Five Oak Green to get the sting out. That stopped his swearing for a bit.
My Mum was given a grey coat by the lady she cleaned for. She said it was November coloured so she had it dyed maroon. She looked lovely in it, Regal even. She went to Tonbridge for the day and got caught in a downpour. All the red dye ran down her legs and into her shoes. She was helpless with laughing about it but my sister thought she was crying and got hysterical.
Yesterday.......

Yesterday 3

2011-06-16T07:04:00.001Z

Here is more from Josi's life. Beneath this are two earlier extracts. Final one tomorrow.

Yesterday, when I was young........
I seemed to be always hungry as a kid. Mum fed us as well and as often as she could.
I would walk down Dalyell Road and smell the privet blossom in one of the hedges. I would peek round the gate to see if there was a bottle of milk on the doorstep. If it was a half pint I would drink it all and take the bottle. If it was the tall one I would drink some and put the bottle back. I had free milk at school too. I don't know how often or how long I did this. One day a big hand picked me up by the shoulder and shook me like an old yellow duster. I looked up and there was this very big policeman, (about eight foot tall I thought.)
I wouldn't tell him where I lived; it was on the same street. So he took me up the road to Bon Marche and across to the police station. They put me behind the counter and I could not see over it. “A terrible crime!”, they said. Milk was rationed in those days. I wasn't seven yet.
They had to go and fetch my Dad. He wouldn't come and get me until after the Greyhound racing on the wireless. I was very hungry and I cried. The police gave me a jug of milk and a glass. I had a sleep. My Dad still hadn't come. I asked for some tea. They gave me some milk to drink. I thought I was in prison for ever.
Finally my Dad dragged me home and I cried all the way. Then I got a good hiding for stealing and probably because his bets went down too. We had to go to Quinn and Axten's shop because some German named Mister Hitler was coming to get us for my being bad, Mum said. And we were in their shelter in the basement when a landmine dropped nearby. It had not exploded so we were all led out by the Wardens. It was like daytime outside, with long streaks of lights all over the sky.
I could see the police station. Every window had a fire in it and it burned right down to the ground that night.
I was very happy.
I have not drunk milk for sixty years.

Yesterday, when I was young...2

2011-06-15T10:34:00.001Z

Yesterday, when I was young......
I got the cane most Mondays at my new school in Stockwell. The first two or three Mondays I got it for being late after assembly, two stripes on each hand with a cane. After that I got it for insolence. That's what they called it when you can't say why you were late, (or won't.)
On Fridays Mum would give me the two half crowns wrapped in a bit of paper and the receipt to go to the shop on a corner in the Lambeth Walk. I collected the bundle wrapped in a white cotton cloth with a very big pin in the fabric to keep it closed. We had our clean clothes for Mass, altho my sleeves got very short (mum said I was growing too quickly) and we did have to keep them very nice. Sunday night the bundle was placed on the chair in the kitchen near the door so that I could not forget to take it with me in the morning on the way to school. Harvey and Thompson the pawnbroker did not open til 9.
Assembly was at 9. So I got the cane. Just before we broke up for half term the youngest teacher asked me in the playground, "Did I see you in the Lambeth Walk waiting for a shop to open this morning?" I said yes..
"You are there every Monday?” I said yes.
I never got the cane again..

Yesterday, when I was young...

2011-06-14T09:33:00.002Z

The next few blogs are written by my friend and fellow writer, Josi Birkbeck. Josi is 'getting on in years' and her writing is raw and, I think, beautiful. See what you think.

Yesterday, when I was young...
Real carrier bags made of shiny brown paper with little cotton handles. Every week we would walk from the Walworth Road to Smithfield Market, no mean feat when you are seven and your kid sister is five and a half. My Mum was like a wraith. At Smithfield the chicken man would give my Mum big parcel of offal called giblets. He rolled them up in a newpaper parcel and then put them into the carrier bag. There was a tea wagon near London Bridge and we could have a sip of tea and a custard cream each before we crossed over the bridge. I used to look through the bridge railings up the river at the ships unloading at the back of Tooley Street.
Then we walked home again. It would take all morning.
I would help my Mum separate and wash all the parts of the meat. There were five kinds. Mum would be happy if there were lots of livers so we could all have them for tea that day. Then we helped to wash them all and cook each type seperately. Mum would make a pie for the next day and a big soup for the day after that. Every time Mum would say, "The best sixpence I could ever spend."
The giblets would just about last the week. Sometimes the man who served my Mum at Smithfield Market would slip in some other chicken part, like a leg or breast, and when she opened the parcel on the scrubbed kitchen table she would give this lovely smile. Every week. My Mum didn't have much else to smile about.

And the winner is...

2011-06-10T09:38:00.003Z

...seen here being pulled out of the Boss Hogg hat.

And it's CekaTB.

I'll send you a copy of Ghostwriting, Ceka, if you let me have your address. Contact me at lynnehackles at onetel dot com

70% of nothing is nothing

2011-06-10T07:40:00.003Z

Take a look at this link -http://www.booktrade.info/i.php/34122 and read about some of the realities of self-publishing. One of the biggest self-publishing companies admits that is has published the worst collections of poetry the world has ever known - not that the world will read it as most books only sell to friends and family of the so called author.
It's as a writing friend said to me the other day, 'The public are now reading the slush pile'.
And a non writing friend said she had been given a novel to read and if it had been her first she'd never have read another book. I knew the author and had to explain about real publishing and self-publishing. The public don't know the difference but most know good from bad.
I'm not saying all self-publishing is bad but do read the link. I could have written it myself, but didn't. And I didn't ghost it either!

Lorraine Mace

2011-06-04T07:19:00.004Z

And here she is! Lorraine Mace, fellow columnist in Writing Magazine.

Lorraine kindly asked me to contribute to her blog. The subject, Ghostwriting. Thanks, Lorraine. You can find me over on

http://thewritersabcchecklist.blogspot.com

A reminder. You still have a chance to win a copy of my book, Ghostwriting - How To Write For Others. Just visit the blog entry two below this one and answer a ridiculously simple question, or copy everybody else's answer and I'll pull a name out of a hat - yes, a real hat, on June 10th.

And in case you missed it, I've a double page spread about ghosting in the new Writing Magazine.

2011-05-24T10:02:00.002Z

The LSO and I were in Cornwall all last week and we searched for this phone box. I'd seen it in a newspaper. The locals have transformed an out-of-use phone box into a tiny library.

Don't you just love it?

Win a copy

2011-05-21T11:54:00.003Z

OK. Another book means it's time for another competition. The winner gets a free copy of Ghostwriting, signed by yours truly.

Ghostwriting is rife now and absolutely anything can be ghosted so how do you think the reality of the New York bestsellers' list really reads?

1. Are all the books on it written by the names on the covers?

2. Are they all ghosted?

3. Have almost half the books listed been ghosted?

Put 1,2 or 3 in comments and I'll pick a winner on June 10th.

And here it is

2011-05-11T07:37:00.002Z

My new book finally arrived yesterday. It's been quite a wait.

Why did I write about ghostwriting when it's been done by the greats, like Andrew Crofts? Two reasons. First of all I was asked to write it (and who would turn a request like that down?). Secondly, Mr Crofts had covered life stories and I knew that it was possible to write a completely different book. I have covered lots of little ghosting jobs over the years and know they can bring in extra money for a competent writer.

If you need to be making a bit extra and like people or learning new skills then there may be something in my book to help you.

Cuts and Bruises

2011-05-01T17:22:00.003Z

Thanks to Teresa and Suzy for awarding me The Versatile Blogger award.
Now I have to write seven things about myself so I thought I’d forget writing and dysfunctional family and do accidents. When I was growing up my mother refused to move house because we were ‘nice and handy for the Casualty Department’. In other words I’m accident prone. The following is not for the faint-hearted.

1. I’ve a six inch scar on my left thigh. I was seven and fell through a window. When the stitches were out and the scar still raw I visited everyone I knew to show them and they all gave me money. Was this the beginning of a career in accidents?

2. I was eight when I tried riding my bike no hands and no feet. Pity the road had been re-gravelled. It took two years to pick the gravel out of my face and then I had what would now be called facial reconstruction which involved over 100 stitches. The day after coming home from hospital I returned to school. Mom wrote a note to say I wasn’t to swing on the bars – just in case my face exploded. I visited everyone I knew to show them and they all gave me money.

3. When I was ten I invented the skateboard by balancing a short piece of plank on one roller-skate. I then took off down a steep hill, fell on my face, blacked both eyes and broke my nose. I visited everyone I knew to show them and they all gave me money.

4. At eleven a boy stuck a piece of glass in my finger because I wouldn’t kiss him. I’ve an inch scar. I visited everyone I knew to show them and they all gave me money.

5. My back started hurting when I was twenty. At thirty I had discs and bone removed. The scar is twelve inches long.

6. The slash across my wrist is where I had a ganglion removed. It looks like a failed suicide attempt. Don’t have ganglions surgically removed. Mine was back the day after the bandage came off but a friend hit it with a Bible (to drive out the devil) and bandaged a penny over the spot. It didn’t come back after that.

7. Before I actually joined the line-up on Deal or No Deal I was sitting in the audience when one of the crew asked me to leave the studio, ‘quietly and discreetly’ to get ready to take part in the show. I fell down the stairs and knocked myself out. When I opened my eyes the audience were on their feet to see what was going on. The 22 in the line-up were going Nee-naw (ambulance sounds) and the warm-up man, Mark, was standing holding the mic. The producer took me to hospital. I’d damaged the tendons in my foot and ankle and spent a year recovering. Noel was very impressed with my bruises.

Being creative

2011-04-28T06:52:00.003Z

When I’m not writing I like to bake. I fill the freezer with large cakes and small ones, make pies and pasties and get all creative in the kitchen.
When I am writing we’d go hungry if the LSO hadn’t learned to cook years ago.
Sometimes I buy ingredients for a recipe and then never get around to making it because I start writing. So what do you do with an old celeriac and a bunch of wilted chives? You make a little friend!

Malvern Hills

2011-04-21T09:15:00.006Z

Each night throughout the long winter I have been visualising myself walking again. I’ve had a bad spell when a wheelchair was needed. Now, along with the weather, I’m improving and yesterday managed one of my visualised walks.
The LSO drove up the Malvern Hills and through the Wyche Cutting – a pass between Worcestershire and Herefordshire. We then parked up and walked a parallel path on the hills, no ups or downs, until we reached The Kettle Sings. Don’t you think that’s a wonderful name for a café? And there we had cake and cold drinks and read a few obituaries before returning. This morning my leg muscles are like bricks and my back aches, but I did it.

The obits were from the Telegraphs’s Book of Obituaries. My favourite was the self-styled Lady who listed many jobs but drew the line at being ‘a whore or a spy’.
The cake? The LSO had coffee and walnut. I had lemon sponge with inch thick cream filling and lemon icing on top.

I've added before and after pictures.

Circus Mania reviewed for World Circus Day

2011-04-16T07:45:00.000Z

Next time the circus comes to Malvern I’m going to see it. I’ve often seen the big tent set up on the common but never been attracted, but I am now. After reading Circus Mania by Douglas McPherson, modern circus intrigues me. I’ve learned all about the history of circus – in fact, the circus chronology begins in 329BC. I’ve heard the circus people telling Douglas about their lives. It’s been explained that Laurel and Hardy, Morecambe and Wise and Ken Dodd are all clowns so why are so many Brits clown-phobic? It seems that this particular phobia is a British one. Circus has changed over the centuries and continues to change. The ‘traditional’ circus, the sort I went to as a child, and ‘contemporary’ circus, such as Cirque du Soleil which attracts large sophisticated audiences, are both covered. Actually, all circus is covered. The love of circus and the amount of research the author has put into this book shines from the pages. And for those who automatically link circus animals and cruelty there is an explanation of how loved these animals are and how different official bodies have never found any evidence of animals being mis-treated. Douglas has not written a one-sided book. He has carefully and thoroughly given all sides to every argument. Having had dealing with the Arts Council I wasn’t in the least surprised to hear that traditional circus has to carry on without help whilst some of the new circus troupes get hand-outs for performing acts that baffle the public. Baffle here has nothing to do with ‘How the hell do they do that?’ when watching someone execute a seemingly impossible feat on a trapeze. In this case baffle means, ‘What’s it all about?’ (Someone being a tree. Think Emperor’s new clothes.) Circus Mania is one of those rare non-fiction books that you end up reading as if it is a novel. It has great characters and plots and beautifully written descriptions. Recommended by Lynne! You can save £5 off the recommended retail price by ordering Douglas’s book direct from the publisher, Peter Owen. £10 postage-free in UK (£2.75 postage worldwide). Send cheques to: Peter Owen Publishers 20 Holland Park Avenue London W11 3QU Or phone: 020 7373 6760 (office hours).

I was Millie T Wakefield!

2011-04-15T06:26:00.001Z

‘Everything except poetry and pornography,’ I answered when asked on BBC Radio Hereford and Worcester what sort of writing I did. That’s not always been strictly true. Last night I remembered when I was Millie T Wakefield producing ‘poetry’ for the local newspaper. Yes, it’s a strange name to pick but at the time I was a shop assistant in Wakefield’s and our opposition was Milletts (Millie T. Get it?) This was many moons ago when I would produce not poetry, more doggerell, for anyone who asked. And then for my husband who complained about his sandwiches being boring. The fillings remained the same but little notes were added, like this one – (you should know first that I have a severe allergy to eggs) This egg I boiled and mashed and spread With some sauce upon the bread. It won’t mean much to some, I know, But to me it means I love you so. When you bite into this sandwich thick, Remember the sight of it made me sick. Yes, it’s bad but these little bits were my first attempts at writing and I gave up ‘poetry’ quite early on. The LSO still has all his little verses. They are now over 30 years old.

a limerick competition

2011-04-14T16:10:00.002Z

Pop over to Frances Garrood's blog. She's holding a competition for limericks. It's under L for Limerick. That's because Frances is blogging her way through the alphabet. K for Knickers is worth a visit too! http://francesgarrood.blogspot.com

Fudge brownies

2011-04-14T09:47:00.002Z

My brownies are cooling so I've made my way to the keyboard. Today I am being creative in the kitchen. We have guests coming to dinner - our gift-son, Andy, and his partner, Emma. It's an excuse to make some of Lorraine Pascal's fudge brownies. The recipe includes two whole bars of dark chocolate (70% cocoa solids) , plus a whole packet of Oreo biscuits. About a million calories and I'm up in my room so that I'm not tempted to test one, or two, or...

The Andrew Easton Show

2011-04-13T07:27:00.001Z

I wore bright red with lime green. Had on green shoes and carried a green handbag along with a copy of Diamonds and Pearls and Writing From Life.
I’d visited BBC Radio Hereford and Worcester several times in my pre-Wales life so felt comfortable there. Andrew Easton was lovely and so easy to talk to, not that I ever have much of a problem talking.
We discussed both books, talked about Deal Or No Deal – he’s a big fan and couldn’t believe anyone could take the risk that I had (10p or £75,000 just in case there’s anyone out there who hasn’t heard. There can’t be.) Malvern Theatres also turned into a subject as I mentioned one of my many jobs was working in the box office there when Nureyev came to dance on his final tour.
The half hour raced by. I had a good time and am now a Friend of Radio H/W. I was even told I’d be asked back.
The only thing I missed was I had to do my own make-up. Clever make-up ladies did it for me when I was on Deal.
And it was nothing like the first radio studio I visited after winning their short story competition, back in the early 80s. A girl sat on the floor under the desk and, while the DJ tried to speak sensibly into his mic’, she plucked hairs out of his legs trying to make him squeal.

Whatever next?

2011-04-11T14:51:00.002Z

Two posts in one day from a not so regular blogger? 'Whatever next?' I hear you ask. Well, a radio chat is next. Tomorrow in fact. I am to appear (can one appear on radio?) on BBC Radio, Hereford and Worcester, on Andrew Easton's show. 2.30 Tuesday 12th April. I'm wondering what to wear. The LSO says it doesn't matter - it's RADIO. But it matters to me. If I look good I shall feel good and will therefore be more confident. Shame it's too late to go and buy a new outfit.

Inspiration in a garden

2011-04-11T08:41:00.002Z

I saw it advertised in the local paper. A garden open to the public so off we set in this glorious spring sunshine. Moors Meadow was just across the border into Herefordshire, at Collington. We drove up a very long track to it, wondering if we were on, well, the right track. We were and it was worth it. These gardens were established over 50 years ago. I can’t believe I’ve never been there before. They were the magical sort. Not manicured with flowers in rows. No, this garden looked simple and beautiful, which every short story writer will know means a lot of work has gone into it. It had everything I love in a garden. Lovely plants, trees and shrubs (I won’t bore you with the names though I do know lots of them) as well as plenty of wild flowers – violets peeping from beneath trees, cushions of primroses, a few shy bluebells starting to open. Little offshoots of paths led into secret corners. Then there were sculptures, including a pale blue dragon whose name we had to guess. I stroked her long nose and she whispered that she was called Moonshine. And there were plenty of places to sit and admire the views and to wait for the butterflies to settle so we could enjoy their colours too. I should have taken pictures to show you but I forgot the camera. (I can see Simon W shaking his head at that admission.) They are all in my head though and I shall be going back to watch this magical garden through the coming months. Did I find inspiration there? Not really. I found peace and pleasure and a break away from writing that we all need every so often. I suppose it could be used as a setting but it's usually people who give me inspiration and ideas. That dragon might come in useful.

In good company

2011-03-29T09:36:00.001Z

I wasn’t expecting to make an appearance in Jane Wenham-Jones’s new book, Wannabe a Writer We’ve Heard of. I had forgotten I’d written a piece for her to include. This book, a follow-up to Wannabe A Writer, is all about getting publicity once you’ve had a book accepted, and there are lots of ideas I shall be using. It was good to see my Deal Or No Deal experience in the section on how to get on television. I was about to use Jane’s tips on how to get on to radio when the most unexpected thing happened. An email arrived asking if I would be prepared to be interviewed about Writing From Life on Talk Radio Europe. It was to be a fifteen minute slot, live, on their Book Show. The email said that other writers interviewed included Marian Keyes, James Patterson and Fay Weldon. You can imagine my first words on reading that. After the expletives came the thought that this must be a hoax but I clicked on the website and there it was. Talk Radio Europe, Spain’s largest English speaking radio network, broadcasting to approx half a million listeners. www.talkradioeurope.com I said yes then read Jane’s tips on how to be prepared for all sorts of questions and, on the day, waited for the phone call. It seemed more of a friendly chat than an interview, thanks to Hannah Murray who appeared really interested in what I had to say. The LSO, listening in downstairs on the laptop, reckoned I did all right and there weren’t too many umms and arrs but I have to admit that doing this via a telephone was far more daunting than any face to face interview.

More tales of the unexpected

2011-03-25T07:10:00.000Z

My Gran always used to say, ‘You never know what’s around the corner’. I wrote a story with that title once. The message though is that life is full of surprises and we should enjoy and make the most of the good ones. It’s my belief that writers get more surprises than non-writers. Why? Because we send work out into the unknown and there’s no way of telling what might come back. Yes, it might be a rejection but it could be an acceptance and a reason to celebrate, or a request for more work, or a letter from someone who has read your work and written to you. I’ve had all of the above. One such letter came from a long-lost cousin of the LSO’s. She lives in Australia but has been over to visit twice so far. Another was from another lost relative, this one from New Zealand. And, of course, I got my sister, Glynis Scrivens, via my writing.

Tales of the Unexpected

2011-03-22T09:30:00.000Z

(From my regular column in FLAIR FOR WORDS)
No, I’m not going to be writing a Roald Dahl type short story with an incredibly clever twist at the end. This is going to be about all the unforeseen things that happen when you are a writer - the unexpected emails, invitations, new friends…
Many years ago, as secretary of Worcester Writers’ Circle and therefore a creative person, I was asked to join the Worcester in Bloom committee. I wasn’t expecting that! Oh, the ecstasy of waving regally at friends from the back of the Mayor’s chauffeur-driven Limo’ as we sailed past them. And the added bonus of getting to look around hundreds of gardens and meet the gardeners. And all because I was a writer.
The experience provided me with enough material for several stories. At least three were published in women’s magazines but couldn’t be sold to an Australian market as they were too English.
But all that was a long time ago. What’s been happening recently? I’ll be telling you over the next few blogs.

Do It Now

2011-03-20T11:48:00.001Z

Get over to www.authorsforjapan.wordpress.com and make a bid, or just read some of the bids and see how kind most of the world is.

Another good cause

2011-03-16T18:13:00.002Z

There are so many good causes around but don't overlook Diamonds and Pearls. The authors have donated their royalties to the charity, Against Breast Cancer.

This is the perfect book for anyone who wants to write women's magazine stories. A lot of the stories in it have been published in magazines, including my own - I'm the final entry. A chance to enjoy a good read, analyse some stories and support a charity.

Mrs Mozzie-rella

2011-03-12T08:13:00.002Z

Writers are always on the look-out for characters but some, when they arrive, are so over the top that they’d need to be diluted before any magazine would accept them as ‘fully rounded’. Take this one, for example.
The LSO and I were in an Italian restaurant when this magnificent character with man in tow, burst in through the door, looked around the empty tables – it was early evening – and plonked herself down next to us. Her conversation was loud and entertaining and had me reaching for my notebook. It was obvious that this couple weren’t used to Italian cuisine and, according to the waitress, had only turned up because they’d cut an Eat for Half Price coupon from the local paper every night that week and were working their way through the menu.
This large lady, draped in a gentleman’s grey overcoat which she didn’t remove, checked the menu and declared loudly, ‘I don’t want any of that mozzie-rella,’ and leaning towards her own LSO, informed him, in a booming whisper, ‘It’s Italian for hard boiled egg white.’ Then Mrs Mozzie-rella, as I christened her, joined in with the backgroundmusic and serenaded us, between mouthfuls of pasta, with -
‘All over Italy they know his concertina,
Poppa Piccolino, Poppa Piccolino,
He plays so prettily to every signorina,
Poppa Piccolino from sunny Italy.’
I quietly joined in with the last line. After all this was a childhood favourite that my Dad used to sing to me. The LSO gave me one of those looks and, being telepathic, I knew he was warning, ‘Don’t you dare ask for an encore.’
What a gift though. A great meal and a fully formed character for a short story.
(Mrs Mozzie-rella is mine. No borrowing please unless I haven’t used her before this time next year.)

Seven Things About Me

2011-03-03T12:10:00.002Z

Thanks to Teresa Ashby for giving me the Stylish Blogger award and something to blog about because I am now obliged to tell you seven things about myself.

1. I often start a blog and then realise I could use the content for a Novel Ideas column (Writing Magazine) or something longer. The downside of blogging is that you can’t sell what you write. (Or can you? Someone contradict me, please.)
2. I’ve been writing for a very long time.
3. I’m no longer a daughter but I am still a mother and a grandmother and a wife.
4. I haven’t seen my son for ten years. He married someone who couldn’t share him with anyone else. (Do I want to tell you this? I’ve deleted it twice and then put it back again.) I have never seen my granddaughter but have almost finished a book about the subject of grandparents not being allowed to see their grandchildren. It’s a book for children. Perhaps she’ll read it.
5. My daughter’s son, my grandson Dan, was recently described in a newspaper as a ‘prodigious golfer’. He’s 12 and is going to buy me a red Jaguar when he hits the big time.
6. My daughter is coming to Writers’ Holiday, Caerleon with me this year. I usually teach and am now going to experience the other side of the week, being a delegate.
7. I try to be positive all of the time, fail some of the time. Am becoming more in tune as the years pass (psychic) and receive a daily message from The Universe. You can too if you sign up with www.tut.com

Sharing

2011-02-14T10:59:00.001Z

I wish I could say the LSO hurt his back when he was carrying a body on a stretcher across the hills on a dark night in sub-zero temperatures. He did that as part of his Search and Rescue training but the truth is he was cutting his toenails when his back locked up. ‘Facet joint lock-up,’ said the physio and handed him a pair of crutches. ‘Terrible pain,’ said the doc and handed him a prescription for hefty painkillers. ‘No alcohol,’ he added so LSO didn’t tell him it was our birthday. (Yes, we share a birthday.)
We went out for a meal with friends, “A” and “E”. They are young enough to be our children so were able to manhandle LSO into their 4x4 and yank him out at the pub. We all pushed and heaved him in through the door. ‘Every table full. Sorry,’ said the landlady. We heaved and pushed the poor LSO back down the path and into the car. Eventually we found a pub with an empty table (Recession? What’s that?) I couldn’t see the menu because it kept moving – got an ear infection which affects my balance. The LSO drooped over his cutlery trying to ease his facet joints. “E” filled two chairs, one for her seat and one on which to rest her poorly knee. “A” set off for the loo, ear cocked (Oops!) to listen for any pings in the pan. He’s waiting for kidney stones to pass. We didn’t mention ailments all night. The meal was excellent and a happy time was had by all. I'd recommend the trio of school puddings with a jug of custard. Pure comfort food!

Making the best of a bad germ

2011-01-31T10:14:00.000Z

There’s a great aspect to being a writer. I’ve been ill for a week. It’s not flu but it’s definitely a horrible cold and sore throat and that affects the asthma. Fortunately I’m a writer and work from the next door bedroom to my sick bed so I can crawl out of bed, write a bit and crawl back. No need to look presentable as I would if I was employed in an office. No problem if I’m coughing and spluttering as I have no co-workers. I sit at the keyboard surrounded by inhalers, nasal sprays, cough sweets, Vitamins, hot lemon drinks… OK I’m milking it but only because the LSO likes looking after me. (And I am really poorly – all say Aaah!)

Exclamation marks!!!!

2011-01-29T12:48:00.002Z

Many years ago, in the days of typewriters, I sent a children’s book to a publisher I picked from a list, using a pin, and with my eyes closed, of course. Then I waited for the contract to arrive and old Walt to get in touch and discuss film rights. (Weren’t those days of ignorance sheer bliss?)
I got a no but a kind editor gave me some advice. He pointed out that his company didn’t actually take the sort of book I had written and told me about something I’d never heard of then – The Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook.
I had asked, in a cheeky covering letter, if he thought I should sell the typewriter and buy a knitting machine. He was kind enough to tell me to hang on to the former but to learn my craft and then came the sentence that has stuck with me ever since. ‘The overuse of exclamation marks is the sign of a true amateur.’
Nowadays I am always surprised how many I see scattered around students’ assignments and stories sent to me for critiques. (I shouldn't be because I probably used even more when I started out.) Naturally, I have learned that ! is not necessary at the end of nearly every sentence and should only be used for exclamations. The clue is in the name. It’s an Exclamation Mark!
Save them for real exclamations such as Ouch! Help! Look out!
As every rule is broken you will discover that the children’s stories in certain magazines contain, on average, fourteen exclamation marks, most of which are not needed. But, if a magazine likes them and uses them I advise students to write their piece first and add the ! later.

Brisbane

2011-01-16T10:21:00.004Z

This is Brisbane where my sister and fellow writer, Glynis Scrivens, lives.

She was not directly affected because she lives on high ground but the garden was underwater and now there's the problem of shopping. There's been no milk or bread for a while now.

100 stories for Queensland

2011-01-14T10:10:00.003Z

http://100storiesforqueensland.submishmash.com/Submit

"100 Stories for Queensland" is a charity anthology to assist the victims of the Queensland floods. Stories are donated by writers from across the globe. 100% of the sales profit will be donated to the Queensland Premier's Flood Relief appeal. http://www.qld.gov.au/floods/ The anthology will be available in digital and print form, and is expected to be ready for release late February/early March. Copyright of all work remains with all authors. Please read the submission guidelines carefully and ensure your story meets both the guidelines and the word limit. Thank you ~ Jodi Cleghorn
(doc, rtf, jpg)Size limit: 500 - 1000 words By submitting a story authors are granting eMergent Publishing the non-exclusive rights to publish their story in print, digital and audio. Copyright of all stories remains with the originating author. If you have any questions please email 100storiesforqld@emergent-publishing.com. GUIDELINES 1. Stories must be original and of an uplifting or upbeat nature. Stories with gratutious violence, demeaning content or narratives dealing with death and destruction will be automatically removed from consideration. 2. Stories are welcome in ANY genre and for any age group. 3. All stories must be beta read, line edited and proof read prior to submission. 4. ONE submission per writer. The first of any series of multiple stories will be accepted and the rest removed from consideration. NOTE: Stories previously published to personal blogs are acceptable for submission on the understanding the original blog post is taken down if the story is accepted. DEADLINE: Friday, 28th January 11:59pm (Australian Eastern Standard Time) Please include a short bio of less than 50 words in your covering letter. Biographical information will only be used on the website to assist with promotion and will not be included in the final anthology. Please ensure your story meets ALL criteria before submitting. Submit

Fancy a three book deal?

2010-12-15T12:31:00.001Z

This arrived in my in-box the other day. I'm passing it on in case anyone's interested.

Win a three-book publishing deal!Contact Publishing (www.contact-publishing.com) is a boutique of independent publishers, with a mission to nurture fresh writing talent; bring fresh ideas and news format of books to the readers. The Page Turner Prize is our annual competition to invite budding authors to submit their work to be considered for publication. We would like to invite your group to take part in this competition. Further details of the competition are below and on our web-site www.pageturnerprize.com

I said I'd help. Can you?

2010-12-13T14:54:00.000Z

Raj Lal has asked me for help and now I’m asking you. Raj is doing an MA in Writing at Warwick University where the students want to continue the tradition of producing an anthology of their writing. In order to do this they need to fundraise and have come up with the idea of asking writers and publishers if they would be willing to donate books, and if possible, signed books. These will be used as raffle prizes and/or auctioned during fundraising and launch events.
Could you donate a signed book? Do you have any writer/publisher friends who might be willing to donate? Raj needs as many donations as possible! Perhaps you could pass the word along together with Raj’s email address? Rajklal1@aol.com She will then give you an address to send books to.

If you would like to authenticate this fundraising venture and student anthology, please contact the MA in Writing course leader Maureen Freely at maureen.freely@warwick.ac.uk

Raj says to thank you all and send warmest greetings for a wonderful Christmas and New Year.

Winner Takes All

2010-12-10T09:12:00.003Z

That's what it says. A story competition where the winner recieves all of the entry fees as their prize. This is being run by FLAIR for Words, see http://www.flair4words.co.uk/
and go to the News page (I think, if not have a look around) for a competition entry form. It's an open theme so no need to write anything new. You've probably got some really good stories lying around and are wondering what to do with them. Now you know.
Give it a go. Good luck.

I entered a competition to win a copy of Catherine King's new saga and heard a couple of days ago that I was a winner. I found the competition on http://patsy-collins.blogspot.com/ where Patsy gives lots of information about competitions.

A treat

2010-12-03T09:17:00.002Z

It's perfect writing weather with all this snow. Who would want to go out in it? (Don't answer that, Simon.)
I was sent this link instead of a Christmas card and it's so good I wanted to share it with all of you. Do take a look and, if you are like me or Teresa Ashby, have some tissues at the ready.
Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXh7JR9oKVE

Do you know what it is yet?

2010-11-12T10:25:00.003Z

'I've got a present for you,' said the LSO. He'd been for a walk and he could have passed shops but this wasn't from any shop.

It was a tentacle. I can't call it a branch because it doesn't look like one. Tentacle is far more suitable and it had been blown off a monkey puzzle tree.

Here's a close up. Brush it one way and it's quite smooth. Try in the opposite direction and you know why it's the only tree a monkey can't climb!

It's the best present I've had in a long time. I love it. Now all I need is a monkey.

Feeding the habit

2010-11-07T08:07:00.002Z

I've done it. Finished the book and sent it off, only one day late. As Simon said, I should have expected problems when the deadline for a book about ghostwriting was Halloween!
While I was working on it I wrote every day, even weekends, and now I've got into the habit of writing every day. I took one day off after completion and tidied my writing room. That's when I found a children's book that needed revision. So that's what I'm returning to every day now. I don't want to lose the habit so I must keep feeding it.
By the way, the book, Ghostwriting, is out in February, can be ordered from Amazon and gives loads of way for writers to ghostwrite and make extra money. It's not all about celebrities and their life stories.

thoughts from my golden notebook

2010-10-31T18:11:00.002Z

As we approach home, in the dark and in torrential rain, the Malvern Hills are hidden but I feel them like a loving arm around me.

The Universe sends me the perfect message - Visualise, Show up, Happy dance. Lynne, you can do this. (That arrived on the day I was so nervous about having the MRI scan.) You too can receive messages from the Universe by signing up at www.tut.com

A duck sits on the tree stump sticking out of the water. Her feet are huge and dayglo orange.

Three beautiful things

2010-10-29T13:36:00.002Z

1. Colin (LSO) tiptoes into my writing room and leaves me a cup of tea and a big glass of raspberry and cranberry juice.
2. The mist outside lifts and the sun comes out just as I start printing out the pages of my book.
3. The tightness in my shoulders disappears, like the mist, as the printer churns out the final page. It's going to be all right.

Why did I do that?

2010-10-22T13:33:00.003Z

Almost every day, I try to go out for a walk. I've not been very mobile this year so every walk is an achievement.
Yesterday I found myself in the park, tip-toeing past the pond because the ducks were all fast asleep, heads tucked under wings, and I didnt want to disturb them.

Sweet Friends Award

2010-10-19T08:04:00.003Z

Thanks to Teresa Ashby for awarding me this - the Sweet Friends Award. Now, as part of the package I have to tell you six things about my writing. Ooo-er!

1. As a child I always had my head in a book, reading one or writing one. My mother thought I should be running around and always told me I was lazy. I grew to believe it. Now I fight against that belief but still don't think I work hard enough or write enough.

2. When I began writing, back in 1080 (that was meant to be 1980 but who knows? I could have been writing in previous existences), I used lots of different names, now I'm comfortable with my own.

3. I have a Hit List of people who have annoyed me during my lives and am bumping them off in stories. I'd recomment this. It helps disperse anger and resentment. It is also the reason I am the only member of my entire family who does not suffer from high blood pressure.

4. I found a sister through writing. Glynis Scrivens contacted me about writing short stories and later adopted me and allowed me to adopt her as a sister. I'd always wanted one.

5. I keep a golden notebook filled with beautiful things. It's where I write about the good things that happen in life and is somewhere to turn to when I feel low. Actually I can't remember the last time I felt low.

6. I am so glad I'm a writer and not a writer's partner. Sometimes I feel sorry for the LSO having to put up with me but he's had lots of practice. We've been together since 1067. For this time around read 1967.

SWWJ weekend in Cambridge

2010-09-29T10:54:00.002Z

Frances, me, Pat and Ivy, from left to right. New friends made over the weekend spent at the Lucy Cavendish college, Cambridge. While I was there I led two sessions on 'Using Personal Experience in your writing' which is what my book Writing From Life is all about. And now I'm off to Titchfield in Hampshire, followed by Hastings for more workshops.

Next week I get my MRI scan and I'm not looking forward to it but the doctors need to know why my back won't hold me up for more than a few minutes. 'Then we'll know what to do with you,' I was told. For my many friends who have wondered the same thing, watch this space.

On the bright side

2010-09-21T14:39:00.003Z

I had difficulty putting on my Pollyanna head lately so I can't say with real enthusiasm that I'm glad my email packed up allowing me more time to write. I found it very hard to smile when the memory failed on the computer and then, three weeks later, the hard drive conked out. I didn't exactly suppress a giggle when I discovered that the book I'm writing wasn't on my memory stick, even though I'd copied it there and the computer had confirmed this. It was telling lies at the time, just before dying completely.
Now I am smiling. I'm back online. There are hard working and reliable new innards in my computer and I've rewritten everything I had lost. Now it's over to you. One fatality was my address book so if you think you were on it before, or want to be on it now, email me so I can keep you. Please!

Help in naming characters

2010-08-11T07:21:00.002Z

Do you have trouble when naming characters? How about names for folk living over 100 years ago?
Fear no more. I have great news for you.
At Writers' Holiday a lovely young lady called Katey was selling spreadsheets of the most popular names through the years since about 1860 (I think), right until present day. She was asking the astronomical sum of £2 for these and the money was to go to a charity to help young Ethiopian girls. These girls are married at 12, have children and because they're not fully formed themselves they sometimes become doubly incontinent and are then thrown out by their husbands. £400 pays for an operation for one girl. £400 gives them their life back. Katey was hoping to make enough money for one operation but has now decided to aim higher so spread the word.
If you want all those names, and I don't see how any writer can not want them, then go to
http://justgiving.com/ipreferhappyendings
It takes you through to a justgiving donation page. When you donate (and do you really think £2 is enough?) it automatically sends you an email with the download link.
This is a great tool for all writers. Spread the word.

And the winner is...

2010-08-08T09:10:00.004Z

Jayne Hall! A copy of Writing From Life together with a Handy Little Book for Writers will be packed and posted to Jayne.

If you'd like to buy either (because you didn't win or you'd love to read me) then contact me and we'll arrange it.

Competition news

2010-08-01T07:41:00.002Z

After a week at Writers' Holiday I returned home to discover a message on my computer - 'All physical memory dumped!' it said, on a cheerful blue screen. The techie who came to the rescue told me the cheerful blue is actually called The Screen Of Death.
The good news is that he managed to rescue all my files. The bad news is that all my email files disappeared, apart from the address book. This means that the sub-folder labelled Competition Entries no longer exists. The LSO cannot pick a winner today as planned. I am going to have to ask you all to resend your emails to me so we can pick a winner in a week's time. Next Sunday, 8th August. No need to go through the rigmarole of going to the website to discover my pen-names. You've already done that. Just send me an email or leave a comment here saying you want to re-enter. It's Sod's Law, isn't it, that the file I most wanted has disappeared?
Sorry for the inconvenience. I was intending to reply to any questions you'd asked or comments you'd made in your emails so do try again now my 18 month old pc has a new memory.
And if you didn't enter last time Fate has given you another chance to win a copy of the second edition of Writing From Life together with a copy of the Handy Little Book For Writers.

Three Big Sleeps

2010-07-22T06:11:00.002Z

Only three Big Sleeps and I'll be setting off for my favourite week of the year.
Writers' Holiday at Caerleon, near Newport, South Wales. (www.writersholiday.net) There's still time for a last minute booking if you want to join me. Gaynor Davies, from Woman's Weekly, is going to be there. Plus Simon Whaley, Catherine King, Irene Yates, Alison Chisolm, Stephen Wade, Jane Pollard, Marina Oliver, Brad Ashton, Janet Laurence, Susan Moody, Kate Walker, Myra Kersner, Simon Hall (tvdetective), James Nash, Trisha Ashley, Hugo Summerson, Elizabeth Hawksley and Lionel Fanthorpe. Sorry if I've missed anyone. Andrew Earney is there too, being very patient with people who want to paint or draw so you could drag a partner along and send them to him to be creative.
I am soooo looking forward to it. And don't forget that, while I'm gone, you can still enter my simple competition to win my book. (see previous post)

Writing from Life - The New Edition

2010-07-18T10:24:00.002Z

Here's the new cover for the second edition of my How To book, Writing From Life. A sort of stripy cover was sent to me and, just as I was getting used to it, it changed. This one is remarkably similar to my Handy Little Book for Writers. Maybe all my books will end up with

purple covers!?

Several people have been waiting for this to come out - it wasn't due until December, but tomorrow a boxful should arrive here and I'll be posting them out to those who requested copies. I'll also have a load to take to talks and workshops. Coming up is Writers' Holiday, Caerleon where I'm tutoring the short story class (replacing Adele Ramet who can't make it). Then there's the SWWJ weekend conference in Cambridge, followed by a day with a group in Titchfield, then Hastings, then Dartford and, in December, Wolverhampton.

I've never had a second edition of anything before. Thanks to everyone who bought the first edition and, if you didn't, here's your chance to get a copy of the second.

Go to my website www.lynnehackles.com and discover what other names I write under. Email me your answers - you can email direct from the website - and I'll get the LSO to pick one name out on August 1st and they'll get a free copy of Writing From Life with a copy of Handy Little Book thrown in.

Tanabata

2010-07-07T09:49:00.003Z

It's Tanabata today. A Japanese tradition when people write their wishes on coloured paper and hang them on bamboo branches outside their house.
No bamboo here. There are trees and various shrubs in the communal gardens but the neighbours might get concerned if I start pegging multi-coloured scraps covered in writing on them and I don't want the neighbours reading my wishes, or the birds using them for target practice. So I've customised Tanabata to suit me.
There's a palm plant in the dining room. That's my bamboo. It looks very pretty today. The splashes of colour give it an extra beauty.
Will my wishes come true? Of course they will - if I believe enough.

You Gotta Get A Glory

2010-06-25T06:22:00.002Z

I'm missing my books. We had to temporarily leave most of our collection at the house in Wales. I thought that was all I missed but yesterday I looked at the wall above my desk and the words were missing. You see, I used to have a postcard with some uplifting words from an old Negro song, stuck above my computer. I remembered them well but wanted to 'see' them so wrote them out and then thought I'd share them with you. I changed one word - write was originally tell.

Oh, you gotta get a glory in the work you do.
A Hallelujah chorus in the heart of you.
Paint, or write a story, sing or shovel coal
but you gotta get a glory or the job lacks soul.

Escape from the screen

2010-06-18T08:34:00.004Z

I've discovered since moving back to Malvern that there is life other than staring at the computer screen. In the last place it was all I had to do. Here, I write in the mornings, play in the afternoons and I get more work done than when I worked all day.

On Tuesday our power supply was going to be intermittent so I took the day off and we visited Ledbury. Good choice. Some of the crew of HMS Ledbury were there to lay a wreath to honour the war dead. Their ship is named, not after the town, but after the Ledbury fox hunt. This is because it belongs to the Minesweeper class, or Hunter.

The Town-Crier was there too. He's called Bill The Bell and I asked if I could have my photo taken with him.

Three cheers for my cyber-sister, Glynis Scrivens

2010-06-15T09:02:00.003Z

I'd always wanted a sister and then Glynis, who lives in Australia, found me via my website and we adopted each other.

Today Glynis gets the distinction of being my first (and maybe only) guest blogger. Over to Glynis -

THINKING OUTSIDE THE SQUARE

Writers need to learn to see things from different angles. We can be in a situation that stresses us but need to rise above this if we're to use these feelings and experiences in a story.

Here's an example.

A few months ago our dog, Benny, kept getting on my nerves. He's a lovable mongrel, don't get me wrong, but one day I said to a friend, "Icould kill that dog today."

"Do it," said Bruce. He's a writer too and knew I was dabbling in whodunits.

"No editor is going to use a story about a dog getting murdered," I said.

"Then make him a man," said Bruce.

And I did. I gave him the qualities that'd been bugging me about Benny - and I gave him his name so my feelings would come across in my writing.

It worked.

Woman's Day bought the story last week.

Next time something or someone bugs you, tap into those feelings. But do it from a perspective that works for you. Step outside the experience, don't be limited by it.

End of an Era

2010-05-28T11:24:00.002Z

This morning we waved goodbye to Win. Here's her picture. Over the past three years we've had so many adventures in her and I started to write a book about them. The beginning was about how I won the money on Deal Or No Deal, after Colin's multiple heart attacks so I've cut that and gone on to the next bit. You can see it here.

TWO OLD CODGERS IN A CAMPERVAN

The whole winter lay ahead of us, plenty of time to plan our dream journey and search catalogues and websites for motor-homes which had everything we wanted in them. Now the money was in our bank account it was getting a bit scary.
Our only previous experience of camping had been when the kids were little. We’d borrowed a tent from neighbours and set off to Cornwall.

‘There’s always a Know-All around to give advice,’ the tent-owner had assured us, ‘so, if you’re stuck, don’t panic.’
We got stuck. Practising tent erecting on a flat lawn in the shelter of our back garden was slightly different to coaxing canvas into a recognisable structure in the middle of a sloping field in a Force 8 gale - until the Know-All turned up all togged out in green cagoule and matching wellies and a beard, which wasn’t green.
‘Easy,’ he announced as he kicked at a tent-peg. ‘My wife and I camped for years.’
‘Is she with you now?’ I remember asking, as I searched the field for a woman in matching gear.
‘Oh, no. We got divorced.’
It sounded like an omen to me.
Things got worse once the tent was up and we began organising dinner. We weren’t about to experiment with the camping stove because I’d sensibly brought salad, cold potatoes and a cooked chicken with us. Doing my Pollyanna stuff I announced brightly that dinner was imminent. A red gingham cloth had been placed over the dandelions and thistles. It looked really pretty with the white plates on it and the food laid out enticingly. (This was around the time I’d been reading Superwoman by Shirley Conran. The Waltons, a happy family who always seemed to be sitting around a large table covered in gingham, eating loads of interesting food, had also affected me.)
A solitary crow swaggered by. It reminded me of a tramp in top hat and tails. I smiled at it and, wishing I was the owner of a dinner gong, turned to shout the family.
‘Dinner!’
One second with my back to the feast. Maybe less. When I turned it was to see the ragged tramp hobbling along its grassy runway, trying to achieve take-off with our chicken in its beak. Like a Hercules transporter, one of those huge impossible flying machines, it finally left the ground and sailed into the sky. Twice the chicken attempted to escape and parachute down to the red gingham landing pad but the zealous crow pounced and retrieved it.
We ate salad and potatoes, filled up on bread and went to bed to discover that our son had a snoring problem. A full bladder woke me in the middle of the night. The toilets were miles away and Colin was called upon to do his dutiful husband bit and wait by the open tent flap, waving a lantern, so that I could find my way back to the right tent in the dark.
The next morning we packed up and set off in search of a caravan. It had to be an improvement. It was school holidays and the only cheap accommodation available was two delapidated caravans in a field. ‘The bedrooms,’ the farmer’s wife proclaimed before leading us, as she probably led lambs to the slaughter, into a dilapidated outbuilding housing a sink, an ancient cooker and a sagging sofa. ‘Living room cum kitchen. Three pounds, ten shillings for the week. All in.’
I wondered if that included the spiders dangling from the dusty beams, and the snails who were dawdling along a gulley which ran from the sink to the door and which was the only way for the water to escape once the plug was pulled.
Surely things had changed since then, I told myself. But even if they hadn’t we were committed. Colin had announced our intentions on television in front of millions of witnesses.
We had to do it.

And here endeth the first taster. More may follow depending on whether I can paste text into my blog. Thank you to Anita Loughrey for pasting this in for me and trying to explain, over the telephone, how she did it.

Did you miss me?

2010-05-23T08:50:00.005Z

Apologies for being quiet for such a long time but I've been having fun. Now I'm back in Malvern I remember what life is all about. There's always so much going on and having stimulation makes me want to write. Take this caterpillar for example. It tells me I should be writing children's books.

On May Day there was a theme in the Winter Gardens. Alice. The LSO (Long Suffering One aka husband) was accosted by a white rabbit. And this wonderful caterpillar was reading from a book whilst smoking some dubious substance from a pipe.

On the same day the wells around Malvern were dressed. There are too many of them to count but the best known were allocated to different groups and individuals who dressed them and then they were blessed. You've all heard of Malvern water, haven't you? Apparently Madge has her cars washed in nothing else!

We drove around some of the wells and springs and spouts and took pictures. Next year I'll be organised and do them properly. This tells me I should be writing articles.

To the left is the spout in Malvern Link. And here's the one depicting Florence Nightingale. She used to come here for the water cure. This tells me I should be researching history.

And this is where we collect our drinking water. It's a spring on the West side of the hills, just above the Schweppes factory. They bottle the stuff and flog it. Locals know where to get it for free.

The girl guides did an amazing job dressing this one.

Now I've got almost used to having shops within walking distance, seeing lots of people, having a proper library and a theatre I must knuckle down to some work. Got a contract the other day so now I have to write a book on ghostwriting.

And for the ladies - I went to a play starring the wonderful Tom Conti. This tells me I should be writing erotica. Now to tell the LSO I'm only joking.

Fancy a Spring Break?

2010-03-31T08:16:00.003Z

How about a week or a few days in beautiful unspoiled North Pembrokeshire in a unique house which is completely private and not overlooked by, or attached to, any neighbours?
I'm renting my house out as a holiday let while I'm living away and it's at half price (£300 per week or £50 per night) for anyone who wants it if you come via my blog or website. Go to http://www.lynnehackles.com/ and email me via the link.

Can you spare 2p?

2010-03-18T08:27:00.002Z

My friend, Lamin, runs a charity to help children in the Gambia - www.fsfgambia.org He tells me that 2p is what it costs to feed one child one school meal a day.
Lamin went to school there but now lives in Worcester. He wants other children to have the opportunities he has had so he began his Fresh Start Foundation. His latest newsletter had a section on school meals. I'll quote -

'FSF's first school meal appeal has been a success with all children at Kwinella Lower Basic School guaranteed a meal until the end of the summer term. As a result of the appeal the school has seen an increase in its enrollment figures which means more children learning and less working on the streets. Now FSF want to feed more children. We are appealing for support to feed 770 hungry bellies and the funds will be allocated between 3 schools and 1 nursery. Schools and nurseries charge 2p as a contribution for a school meal. However, for some families living in abject poverty this amount is simply too much to pay. As a result some children go the whole day without food.'

What's 2p to us? Could you tip all your tuppences out of your wallet/purse into a jar and collect them for FSF? Could you ask your family to do the same?
If you've got this far perhaps you'd like to direct readers of your blog to this one. Perhaps blogland could help Lamin feed his 770 children.

Lift Up Thine Eyes

2010-03-16T08:21:00.002Z

This is a view from the window of our new place in Malvern. Between those trees and those hills is Great Malvern with its shops, cafes, theatre, cinema and people.

We moved in, in a little way, last Wednesday. The move proper is this weekend so I have to decided what to take and what to leave here as we'll be returning one week each month so that Lord Hackles can see to his reflexology clients. (Yes, he got a title too.)

As well as moving I have my regular columns to write, got to finish a proofing/copy-editing job, have an article consisting of half a dozen interviews to write up and now I've heard that the proofs of the second edition of Writing From Life should be arriving today - and could I check them please and return them before April 12th?

It's going to be all go but I know now that if I feel lethargic I need only look at the hills and the magic of them fills me. It always has.

When I was a little girl, living in Kidderminster, my Grandad would lift me up to look over the garden wall and there in the distance were the Malverns. I vowed to live there when I grew up and, eventually, I did for many happy years. Then circumstances meant a move to rural Wales and I've done eight years of exile here. Now I am going home.

Malvern's motto is 'Lift up thine eyes unto the hills'.

Maybe it was the mookaite

2010-03-05T07:42:00.003Z

A few weeks ago this piece of mookaite called to me from hundreds of crystals in a shop. Since then I've held it every day and keep it on my desk. I've also been using lots of positive thought. The reason is I'm a townie and living in the country is simply not for me. The house is still for sale and nothing's happening so the LSO came up with the idea of renting a place in Malvern. That was Friday. Saturday we checked the internet and booked to see six places. Monday we went to Malvern. Tuesday we looked at a few places and the third agent we met took us to something we hadn't considered. We fell in love, signed up and we get the keys next week.

The plan is to divide our time between (now Lady Hackles is about to speak. If you don't know about the title see previous post) our town house and our country house. The LSO, as a reflexologist, has lots of clients here. I can work anywhere if writing non-fiction. To write short stories I need a constant supply of ideas and I don't get them here. I need people to watch and to listen to.

In order to finance this move we are going to sell Win, our American motorhome. Details will be appearing soon on my website so if you know anyone who is looking for a 2 berth, rare breed, left-hand drive recreational vehicle with many extras please steer them in this direction.

Post-Fishguard weekend

2010-02-23T09:09:00.003Z

The weekend for Writers & Artists at the Fishguard Bay Hotel was intensive. I was tutoring the short story course and had some very talented writers there. As well as the six one-hour sessions we had a rather long introduction on the Friday evening (an hour and a half and that was my fault as I was so excited to have people to talk to) and another extra when we went through stories the delegates had sent in for me to read.

I was so hyped up that I couldn't sleep well at the hotel so I've been spending extra time in my bed since getting home.

Now I am being very brave and posting a picture of me, in bed and with no slap on! The tiara is because I am now a Lady. My daughter bought me the title for my big birthday. No need to curtsey but please let's have a little respect if you post a comment here. (This means you Whaley!)

Job application

2010-02-15T10:46:00.002Z

Yes, the LSO has found a job he fancies. It's advertised in our local freebie and says, 'Cleaner wanted for young female. 2 days a week.'
He reckons he could see himself rubbing down a young female.
We both love reading the small ads. There are so many weirdly worded ones around. How about ' Pensioner wants someone to cut parrot's toenails.' Or our all-time favourite, under For Sale. 'Very old black lady's bicycle.' We were tempted to phone and see how the old lady was.

Milking it!

2010-02-04T14:27:00.002Z

Oh no, not Deal Or No Deal again!

Yes, it is but possibly for the final time. I've milked this experience for as much as possible and this week an article on it appears in the Real Life section in My Weekly (wk ending Feb 6 which date just happens to be a BIG birthday for me). There's also a horrible picture of me on the front cover, in the top corner. One consolation is that Noel doesn't look too good either.

I sent the above picture, along with several others, to accompany the feature. I call it tip-toeing through the tulips. It was taken last Spring at Osborne House when we took Win (our motorhome) to the Isle of Wight.

This feature is proof that you can use Writing From Life, get published and get paid.

Quiet but busy

2010-01-30T10:15:00.003Z

I've been quiet lately because I've been busy. My year began with a rejection. I sent a story off one day (email) and it came back the next. My mistake? It was sent when the moon was on the wane. That's what I reckon so, in future, I shall only send out work when the moon is waxing. It's a full moon tonight - good for performing spells. Perhaps the key spell should be refreshed so this house sells.
Busy? I decided to clear all the paperwork that's been waiting for attention. I've ploughed through it all this week, at the same time as interviewing authors for a forthcoming article. Life is going to get busier as the new book is getting started on Monday. Not sure when the deadline is yet but I want to get well ahead in case we get a buyer and move house in the middle of writing.
Now the decks are clear I actually feel like working. That paper wasn't just clogging up my office. It was clogging up my brain.

death of a snowman

2010-01-16T10:21:00.003Z

I loved him for a while and then he got boring. It wasn't that my affection towards him cooled, rather that it got too warm. His epitaph has possibly been heard before but here goes -

Now he's dead and gone away

Let's hope the bugger's there to stay.

Hills of green

2010-01-14T15:16:00.003Z

Here it is! The new cover for my book. This will be what it looks like in its second edition which should be out around June. (buy from amazon or www.howtobooks.co.uk)
I'd grown used to the first cover with its blue sky with little white clouds, like ideas, sailing in it. This one is beginning to grow on me now. Change is always hard for me. Jane Wenham-Jones and I once got quite faint because the table in our kitchen at Writers' Holiday, Caerleon, had been moved so that it faced North to South instead of East to West. (www.writersholiday.net)
There is another change going on and this is one that I've looked forward to. The THAW!
Green looks really strange now. Instead of staring out of my window at white hills, white valley, white garden, there are now patches of green and they look very very bright. The snow has made me lethargic. Hibernation was appealing. Perhaps with the return of green my brain will re-awaken.
Here's hoping.

Mr Freeze

2010-01-03T12:00:00.003Z

This is a cheat really. It's not a snowman. It's only a head. Why? Because my back seizes up when it's cold so I had limited time outside, and because my back is bad it's difficult to bend. But I so wanted to make a snowman that I compromised. This head is sitting on the picnic table and Mr Freeze is looking through the kitchen windown at me - he was quick to build and involved no bending as the snow was already on the table.

The top picture is the front garden and all that white behind is not sky. It's snowy hills. It all looks very lovely but I don't want to be out there. Perfect writing weather.

The LSO here

2010-01-02T10:48:00.002Z

Hi! This is Colin, Lynne's husband, also known as the LSO - Long Suffering One. A title well deserved. You see, I didn't marry a writer. She became one. No-one said 'for better or worse, when writing or making your life a misery when not writing'.
Over the years I've got used to rejections, celebrations, tears and wails and all those calls of 'Colin, Colin, I've forgotten the word I want, can't find the disk with the photo, lost the file, can can you read this, check that, do you know this, that and the other.' And the one most often used - 'Are you putting the kettle on?' Apparently this is Venusian for 'I want a cup of tea.' Lynne once gave me Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus to read. It didn't tell me where writers came from.
I also didn't reckon on becoming sort of famous. Apart from being on telly when I was in the audience while Lynne played Deal Or No Deal, I have become a character both factual and fictional. I've made an appearance in a children's book, many short stories, and an unpublished novel (Hell, the stress that one caused me). She's told all and sundry about my parents, my jobs and even my heart attacks. Is nothing sacred? Thankfully, so far, she's not got involved in erotic writing.
And what does she say if I complain. 'But darling, no interesting woman is easy to live with.'

After the clearing out

2009-12-30T10:46:00.003Z

This is one of the cleansing rituals that works for me. I'm telling you all about it as Julie asked for details. We've both been having a good clear out of all the rubbish from our writing spaces but cleaning and clearing aren't always enough to get rid of the negativie vibes.

I use these tiny dishes, one for each corner. They contain the elements of air, fire earth, and water. I use salt for earth, a candle for fire and this morning a leaf fell into my hand so I'm classing that as air. After cleaning my room I place one dish in each corner. Light the candle and leave for an hour or more. It always works for me.

Other methods are -

Using a mister filled with water and a few drops of your favourite aromatherapy oil. Spray around the room.

Light some incense. Walk around the room leaving a trail of perfumed smoke.

Shift energies by clapping, putting a wind chime near an open window or ringing a bell.

I know this isn't going to be suitable for everyone and I was a bit dubious about posting it, and then I thought why not share my methods. After all there are no negative vibes in my writing room. And I happen to love little rituals like these.

Mr Squeal

2009-12-17T14:56:00.002Z

This is my friend, Mr Squeal. He's called that because our grandson, Dan, when tiny, couldn't say squirrel and it came out as squeal.

Mr Squeal is on the bird table. I can actually go outside and talk to him. He's not spoken to me yet but he listens to what I say to him, which is more than the LSO does on occasions.

I feel a bit guilty about Mr S because we've been away for a week and returned to find that the nuts and assorted food had run out. Just to compensate we've just put out some cooked rice and crumbled Digestive biscuits.

Pink Stinks continued

2009-12-08T10:30:00.002Z

My daughter, Leanne, was brought up to have wide horizons. Yes, she, like today's girlies in pink, wanted to be famous but she tried everything, not just pink and girly things. This is what today's little girls should be allowed to do. It doesn't take a pink bicycle to compete in a time-trial. Leanne's bike was blue and had a cross bar. Cross bars make a bike stronger. Girly bikes without crossbars were made when ladies riding bicycles wore long skirts.
I could go on and on and on but I won't. Take a look at Pink Stinks and you'll see what this campaign is all about.

Pink Stinks

2009-12-07T17:58:00.002Z

Three cheers! Someone is finally doing something about Girly Pink. See www.squaresunshine.blogpsot.com and follow the link from there. I can't do links but I expect someone out there will soon tell me how. (And square sunshine is a brilliant blog to have a mooch around.) Little girls do not have to live in a pink world. They are not all little princesses and it's about time some parents got a reality check. Isn't blue for boys and pink for girls a little outdated now?
I am allergic to pink. Furthermore my grandson, Dan, is allergic to 'girlies in pink'. A few years ago I used to have to check the supermarket aisles before we turned each corner just in case there was a girlie in pink in that particular aisle.
One of my husband's reflexology clients when filling in medical details put pink under allergies.
I love red and orange and green. Come to think of it I'm all traffic light colours and would never even use a pink comb or toothbrush. Pink is fine in the garden. A few pink things for girls won't hurt but this obsession with stinky pink makes me see red!

Long live the King

2009-12-02T10:25:00.003Z

I remember the days when the sun warmed my bare arms, when the grass was dry and springy, when the sky was blue.

It seems a long time ago. It's still raining here and it reminded me of a Ray Bradbury story I read many years ago. The title has disappeared along with the sunshine but the story remains fresh in my mind. Britain was being evacuated because the weather here was unfit for humans. (Amazing how fiction can become reality.) At the final airlift one man refused to be moved and, as the helicopter (I think) took off, that man ran around, completely insane, declaring himself King of England.

I'd taken a picture of a miserable grey landscape to add to this blog and then decided to spread some shunshine instead. The picture was taken while we were on our travels around the coast of Britain. It's sunshine and blue sea on the Isle of Skye.

Where do I begin?

2009-11-30T11:50:00.002Z

Monday again. A new week and I've no idea where to begin so I've been playing Spider Solitaire. My problem is I've too many projects on the go. I blame a clairvoyant who shall remain nameless. He suggested I should finish off projects that had been abandoned and I've discovered so many that I could keep writing for many years in order to complete them all.
This morning How To Books asked for new blurb and other bits for the new edition of Writing From Life. I think that needs to go to the top of the list.
I call my current dilemma, Writers' Jam. It's like a traffic jam. Too many vehicles all waiting to get through. It's possibly the opposite to Writers' Block. So what do I do?
I'm about to make a cup of tea, take out my new notebook and make a To Do List and put projects in order of priority. Wish me luck.
Per aspera ad astra. Through difficulties to the stars.
Yes, I did a bit of Latin at school though have to say the best remembered bit is a rhyme made up about the Latin teacher, the lovely and patient Mrs Tate.
Tatibus sittibus
on the deskolorum.
Deskibus collapsibus.
Tati on the floorum.

Kettle's boiling. I'm off!

Blowing One's Own Trumpet

2009-11-27T10:34:00.002Z

This is something I'm not good at. (When I typed the title I managed Bowing and then Bowling.) But it has to be done.
Let's do the picture first. This year four of my short stories have appeared in four separate anthologies by Bridge House. This one will be out shortly and available at Waterstones and other stores.
I've just been asked to write a book on how to ghostwrite. It's not started yet so that's all the info I'm giving out.
My latest book, Writing From Life, (How To Books) is currently undergoing revision and will appear as a second edition, complete with new cover, next June.
No news about the gift book. I don't even have a title but it's in the pipeline and will be about ancient, and not so ancient, cures.
In the past week or so I've received half a dozen emails via my website, asking where I will be teaching, or speaking in the future. Well, if you fancy February in Fishguard visit www.writersholiday.net. A long weekend in a hotel and I'll be there tutoring writing short stories. You could opt for Poetry with Alison Chisolm, Contemporary Romance with Kate Walker, or novel writing with Catherine King. And if you want a change from writing, or you want something for you non-writing partner to do while you sweat over an empty notebook, then there are painting classes with Andrew Earney. I might give my class a load of work to do and pop off for a bit of painting myself. Only joking!
And now that's it for today, folks. I'm going back under my bushel, whatever that is.

An Amazing Clock

2009-11-25T10:50:00.002Z

This clock is the reason why we have to live in a detached house. It's got the loudest bong on the hour and half hour.
I bought it in a sale many years ago because it reminded me of the wall clock my grandparents had. Their clock used to fascinate me as a child and one of my Gran's expressions was that my Grandad loved me so much he'd give me the clock off the wall.
Once I'd bought the clock and carried it home the LSO hung it on the wall and wound it up. The first time it chimed we didn't know whether to laugh or scream. It was so loud that the wall seemed to vibrate. It should have been a church clock as it could be heard halfway along the road. The LSO suggested I took it back the next day and got a refund but when I got to the shop it was boarded up. You can guess what the family said. They all told me the shop owner had seen me coming. But we've grown to love the clock. It fits in with us. We never know what we are going to do next, and neither does our clock. It still ticks loudly and strikes every half hour but you can't trust it. It will strike as many times as it feels like it. Yesterday at five it struck four and at six it struck three, and that's why I love it. It's always up for a bit of fun. So far it's never struck thirteen but I live in hope.

Cotton Wool Head

2009-11-23T10:49:00.002Z

It's one of those day when my head feels as if it's stuffed with cotton wool. Probably due from a lack of fresh air. I can't see any point in going outside and getting soaked - unless it's to clear the cotton wool, of course, so I may have to brave the rain later.
I've been all over my computer this morning. I tried to do a bit on my latest book, tried to start an article, tried to write a letter and now I'm attempting to blog, and all this through a cotton wool brain.
I'm not going to be easy to live with today but as I often tell the LSO 'No interesting woman is easy to live with'. I don't know who said that originally. It may have even been me.
This one was from Phil Cool and may also apply to life here at Penrhiw House today.
'I don't suffer from stress - but I think I'm a carrier.'

Here I Go Again

2009-11-20T11:07:00.002Z

Yes, it's another post about Deal Or No Deal. Three years ago today I was in agony waiting for the show to be broadcast. I'd kept my win a secret since the show was filmed on October 11th.

Colin and I took a few friends out to lunch, then had to hang around until 4.15 when the local pub was going to show it on the Big Screen. I couldn't wait for everyone to know the outcome. Keeping quiet was doing me serious harm. Dave, the pub landord, was asked to give everyone a drink. 'But don't let it go over £50,' Colin whispered to him.

'Oh, I'm sorry,' said Dave, thinking I'd won a tiny amount - as he was intended to.

When it came down to those last two boxes everyone in the pub must have thought I'd got the 10p. But here's Noel giving me a big hug and telling me, 'You were fantastic.'

If you've seen the show and think all the contestants are a bit OTT with their comments about loving each other and missing each other then you're mistaken. It's a big thing in our lives and we're all in it together. A lot of us still keep in touch.

The show gave me more than £75,000. My confidence increased, I got over my phobia of cameras, and I made some new friends. And there's something about Noel Edmonds. He's such a professional and puts everyone at ease. I still begin each day with Gratitude. Thank you Noel. Thank you Deal or No Deal.

For LSOs Everywhere

2009-11-18T11:57:00.002Z

It must be difficult to live with a writer. As a writer, have you ever considered what it's like for your other half? I call my husband the LSO, as many of you will already know. It stands for Long Suffering One. Here's a typical conversation with him.

Me: Why are you painting that wall green?

LSO: You said I could.

Me: I didn't.

LSO: When I asked you said, Mmmm, lovely.

Me: I thought you were asking if I wanted a cup of tea.

It can be problematic living in the same house yet on separate planets but I've come up with a solution. The LSO is being trained to become a PA. He's learning how to type by transcribing notes of our adventures in Win, the motorhome. I talked them onto tape. They go something like this.

Me: Look at that gorgeous blossom.

LSO: Forget the blossom. Look at the beeping map.

Me: Take a left, or is it a right? Hang on.

LSO: Hang on? How the beep do I hang on going around a roundabout?

And now I have pages and pages about our adventures complete with all the swearing.

So what's the photo about? We saw a horse on the horizon and as I'd rather like the LSO to beome personal photographer as well as PA I suggested he took a shot.

I think we should have a National Thank The LSO Day but possibly not in Nano month.

A quote to suit the weather

2009-11-16T10:05:00.002Z

Seeing as the surrounding countryside is now a mystery - where are the fields and which bit exactly is the river? - perhaps we should be thinking about building a boat. I chose a boat quote for today. It's from Barry Sheene.
'Don't wait for your ship to come in; swim out and meet the bloody thing.'
He was right, you know. It's no use sitting around hoping to become a writer. You have to get out there, or at least get your work out there. You have to keep working towards your goal - swimming out to meet it.
Two months ago I didn't have a single piece of work 'out there'. Today I have thirty-nine. Stories, articles, letters and a couple of book proposals. So do my arms ache from typing, or swimming?

The uninvited editor

2009-11-13T08:00:00.003Z

Some of you NaNoWriMo-ers might find this useful.
Once upon a time I thought it would be fun to write a novel and I managed the first chapter no probs. Then the Uninvited Editor kept pestering me. 'You can't say this, you can't say that. And what the hell is all that about?'
A little later my Mother joined him. (Don't know why my inner editor should be male.) She stood peering over my shoulder when I was doing the sex scenes. 'Oooh, our Lynne. That's disgusting.'
How did I get rid of them? I decided to be someone else. I chose a name that had absolutely nothing to do with me or any of the family. I gave myself a new look. I gave myself new parents. Joan Collins was my Mum and the actor who played Indiana Jones (his name now eludes me - it is early morning) became my Dad. Liberal parents. I got so into the part of this new taller, slimmer, sexy, confident me that no-one could bother me when I wrote.
Try it and see.
I had to cut the sex scenes. My agent said it sounded as if I was enjoying myself too much!

Remembrance Day

2009-11-11T10:14:00.002Z

Written by Edgar Billingham, a founder member of Worcester Writers' Circle, this poem appeared in his book, Midland Poems, in 1944 and was praised by JB Priestley and described as 'one of the most poignant fragments of this or any war.'
TRUE REQUIEM
Not for you, soldier, mourn we,
Young, and dead quickly,
But for you, schoolgirl, who never knew him,
Yet who must now go unloved and childless to the grave,
And for you, father, so proud,
And for you, mother,
Remembering the little hands.