The Coal Face Calls

Right, come on. Enough is enough. I've spent the past month reading other people's manuscripts, pontificating on blogs, celebrating friends' publishing deals and generally doing anything other than writing. But now I am ready to return to the coal face, re-energised. Well, perhaps not quite re-energised. But writing is a bit like any other exercise - stop using the muscle and it turns flabby. I am definitely going to do some new writing ... tomorrow. So shoot me! It's mid-afternoon, the sun is out, I've been working for four hours and if I don't get some fresh air soon, I'm going to crumble. (I love you, Royal Festival Hall, but whoever controls your heating system has tropical tastes.)


I have a new book idea! That's a start, isn't it? Yes, Karen, if you're a fan of Jeremy Kyle. I ran the strapline for my idea past a friend and asked, 'Too trashy?' Dear blog reader, we all need honest writer friends. 'A bit trashy,' she admitted. So I've tweaked my new favourite idea and still think I have something there. Hopefully not something that could be an episode of the morning TV show we all love to hate.

Honest Friend mentioned above is in the same writers group as me and we met this week. I bemoaned my inability to talk coherently about my manuscripts - to sell my ideas. So we've all tentatively agreed to meet up at our next meeting with a pre-prepared pitch. I am determined to sound confident yet relaxed, succinct yet punchy as I reel out a novel summary that will send publishers falling at my feet. Either that, or I will blush, laugh nervously, wave a dismissive hand in the air, forget my rehearsed speech, lunge for a glass of wine and swallow it down the wrong way. That's how I usually behave when things really matter.

I have two more things to mention before I race out into the sunshine. Have you visited An Awfully Big Blog Adventure recently? Please do, as I have blogged there today about the quiet secrets of publication day. And please click on the 'conspiracy theory' link as it takes you to a comic strip that I put together all by my self.

The second thing? Next week, I turn 40. I'm throwing the Party Of Dreams to celebrate. The last time I threw a party on this scale was probably when I turned 18. I hired out the bar in Chesterfield Football Club. (Oh, the heady glamour!) As a birthday surprise, my two allegedly best friends booked the town's notorious Tarzan-ogram. Do you know what it feels like to have an oiled muscle man with a Derbyshire accent and tattoos throw you over his shoulder? Neither do I, I've worked hard on erasing the memories. Let's hope no surprises are planned for this party. I don't think the venue would appreciate fake tan, blonde highlights and a Tarzan outfit.