At first bite...

So I'd only been on facebook a day when I was bitten by Alexandra and turned into a vampire. But now I can't bring myself to bite other people so I'm going to have to stay at lowly vampire status and at the whim of others who are moving swiftly up the ranks. Yes, on facebook I am feeling my age, not least because I am trying to stay well away from the teenagers I know who are also on there. At least, at least, I haven't lied about it (my age)(or not yet anyway). Not like one of my daughter's friends who told me over breakfast about one of her friend's friends (stay with the story, these are teenagers who have hundreds of friends while I just have seventeen at last count). Anyway this friend of my daughter's friend's friend found her dad's profile saying not only that he was ten years younger, but that he was single too. Oops. He should have just joined one of the groups I'm now a member of - 'A nice cup of tea solves everything.'

Good looking event...

Another Scatterlings evening at the Marlowe on Wed 10th October
2007

On Wednesday October 10th at 7.30pm in the Marlowe Theatre Bar, in
Canterbury, Scatterlings are putting on another of their evenings of poetry
and music.

A varied programme of thought-provoking, entertaining and (sometimes) comic
poetry from the prize-winning trio of poets - Mark Holihan, Geraldine Paine
and Sue Rose - two of whom are shortlisted for the 2007 Canterbury Poet of
the Year Award; sharp lyrics and heady music from Steve
Antoni, London-based singer-songwriter, who has performed all over the
country, including London's Ronnie Scott's and Maidstone's Soul Café; and
jazz and classical standards from Kevin Kay-Bradley, trumpeter and pianist,
who has played at Westminster Palace, among other places. The evening, which

will be MC'd by Lynne Rees, should be great fun - so why not come along?

Tickets (£7.50/£6.50) from the Marlowe Box Office on 01227 787787

We would also appreciate it if you could send this email on to any lists you

think may find this of interest.

We look forward to seeing you there.

Sue Rose/Geraldine Paine/Mark Holihan for Scatterlings
Scatterlings@hotmail.co.uk
http://www.poetrypf.co.uk/suerosepage.html
http://www.poetrypf.co.uk/geraldinepainepage.html

At last...

...a soap opera worth watching. This news story about the death of Flower, the queen of Meerkat Manor, has whetted my appetite. I love meerkats, and this paragraph from the studio executives about the consequences of Flower's death is just classic:

Up in the air now is the fate of Zaphod, Flower's partner and the dominant male of the Whiskers mob. If losing his mate proves too much to handle, his brother Youssarian—a former top meerkat who has been pegged as having "social problems"—could rise again.

Flower and Zaphod's son, Mitch, also has exhibited leadership qualities in the wake of his brother Shakespeare's death, and he could be a force to be reckoned with, as well.

It's also unsure who will become the new female leader of the extensive clan. Flower's daughter Mozart is a possibility, but despite being caring and compassionate, she has estranged herself from the family more than once.

And just to get me even more excited, there's a good game here. Anyone want to join my mob? You get free lemonade and a special handshake... Alex, where are you?

Friday Fact

(Cor, can't seem to stop posting today. Blogging vomiting - must be an after-effect of the virus.)

Anyway, this fact just exemplifies why I LOVE fashion - and it's how the pencil skirt, this season's must-have, was inspired. Apparently, it was influenced by Mrs Hart Berg, the first American woman to fly in a plane, and who tied rope around her skirts to keep them from flapping in flight.

So now you know - it'll certainly be a comfort to me that I don't have to look like a pencil as I hobble around.

What would you rescue?

One of the best writing exercises I do with students is to give them a random object - even a half-used bottle of bubble bath once - and they have to invent the character who would rescue this object above all others from their burning house, and why. It's amazing how the stories come tumbling out. Well, this is definitely something I'd rescue...



I just love looking at it - there's something so soothing about the colours, but also in the texture of the textiles, which is why it hangs just outside my bedroom. It's designed by Anne Kelly, and, because I know Anne, it's been fascinating to see how an artist develops her work through the years and also the influences - travel, family, life - that seem to form a dialogue between her and her work. This is, of course, the same with writing but it takes longer for books to come out, which means its harder to read the clues. And there's always the feeling that, by the end of the book, you aren't the same person who started out writing it. I'm not sure whether it's the same for artists, but I'm interested in that.

And because the picture above doesn't do Anne's work justice, here's something I nicked off her website.

Because sometimes you need to be childish....

...pop a few pink bubbles and listen to them fart.

All clear now...

At last the virus has gone. Pesky thing. And I can go back to the important things in life, such as being amazed at how much Neil Gaiman's dog is the mirror image of him and wondering if the same applies to me and my dog. To be honest, this isn't a new thought as I was once asked whether I'd picked her especially because she looked like me, a question I might have appreciated more if she'd been a graceful greyhound rather than a rather scruffy, fat and bearded border terrier. Anyway, I'm going to put some pics up of Tally and me just to see if you can tell the difference.... (ps I'm the one without those spooky green spots in my eyes but it has to be said we both look a little confused)

Argh...

My computer is sitting there internet-less at the moment due to an outbreak of 'Dialer.generic'. Can't quite work out what this is, or more infuriatingly for deleting it, where it is - but it apparently causes my internet connection to ring high-cost phonelines for no reason I can work out. So if you've emailed me recently, or if I haven't emailed you, be patient. The wonderful Danny is on his way to put me back on the internet highway!

The Kids Company

I felt incredibly proud and excited when a publication came through the door the other day with my name printed inside. For once it wasn't something I'd written, but the newsletter for the Kids Company. Can't tell you how happy I was to see my name on the list for major donors. I might whinge about it sometimes, but I know how lucky I am to be writing and when I got the first cheque for my advance for Tell Me Everything, I knew I wanted the Kids Company to benefit from my publication. This wasn't just because of the subject matter of my book, but also because the charity is about something I really believe in - using creativity and fun, whether it be writing, arts, theatre, to help vulnerable people find a different route through life.

I heard about the Kids Company first when the founder, Camila Batmanghelidjh, was interviewed on the radio about the constant struggle to get funding and I couldn't help wondering what it must be like, day in, day out, persuading people to give money for something she could see was working so well. This is a quote taken from the newsletter from one of the kids involved in the recent 'Demons and Angels' exhibition:

'That night was special but also a bit sad once the night was over. Something really special happened in creating the exhibition, people worked together and work was created that was honest and painful. It was an absolute privilege to be part of this. I really think that something has shifted in me by having my piece in the show, perhaps a part of my childhood has been laid to rest.'

And yet, probably the day after that first night Dawn talks about above, the team who organised the exhibition were back in their offices begging for more money just to keep afloat.

But this post is sounding like a charity broadcast and it's not meant to be. It's also not about how wonderful I am for giving money - the opposite in fact, being part of the Kids Company is a real privilege for me. And I like the humour of it. The first line of Camila's letter reads:

'I am reporting that my ballet lessons are going very badly. I haven't managed to get into a tutu but the Kids Company is thriving.'

"We aim to return to children their childhood." This is the main aim of the Kids Company - how could I not feel lucky to be a small part of that?

What's your name?

Lauren obviously knows one or two things about names, her blog is called 'All the GOOD blog names were taken" which made me laugh. This list is inspired by one on her blog:

1.YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car) Charlie Golf – we let my daughter choose the name of our rabbit when she was small and had to live with a Volkswagon in the family!
2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie) Vanilla Blueberry – perhaps a bit too fruity although I love Vanilla as a first name – am going to steal it for a character!
3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name) Ssal – now I sound as if I have a lisp!
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal) Green Dog – hmm.
5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born) Jane Bedford – not going to be the exciting femme fatale I think. More the mousey girl next door who yearns secretly for the hero!
6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first) salsa – fancy a dance?
7. SUPERHERO NAME: The + second favourite colour + favourite drink – The Blue Champagne – sounds as if I’d be too busy partying to do some saving!
8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers) Alfred Albert – am confused, what’s a Nascar anyway?
9. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy) Coco Mars – like this one a lot, I can see the act!
10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names ) – oops, I don’t stand a chance, my mother didn’t have a middle name so I’d just have to be William.
11 SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower) Autumn Rose – I’m not a spy, I’m still stripping!
12. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree) Toast Oak – hmm, time to stop I think!

Want to be happy?

Then join the Happiness Project.

The Petri Project is full of good advice too, as is Nicholas Bate although he is more business-based, but perhaps my favourite 'feel good' blog is Clare's fantastic Three Beautiful Things.

ps and the answer to yesterday's puzzle is, of course, that the surgeon was the mother (and I'm convinced Alex knew that, he was just spoiling for a fight - things can get boring sometimes even in a shed).

Daughters and Wives

In discussion with a writing friend about good books to read, we were suddenly struck by how many authors had used daughters and wives as terms of possession in their titles eg:

The Memory Keeper's Daughter
The Storyteller's Daughter
The Time Traveller's Wife
The Gravedigger's Daughter
The Bonesetter's Daughter
The Rector's Wife
The Pilot's Wife

An admittedly quick search on amazon.co.uk reveals no husbands or sons used in the same way, although there is the film of Steptoe and Son, and the intriguingly entitled How to Kill Your Husband and Other Household Hints by Kathy Lette.

This trend worries me now I've noticed it, although I'm interested in how all of the above are written by women. But more worrying for me is the fact that, without thinking too much about it, I automatically presumed the professions in the titles to be held by men. Reminds me of that old puzzle:

A father and son have a terrible car accident and the father is killed. When the son is taken into the hospital, the surgeon immediately says, 'I can't operate on him. He is my son.' Who is the surgeon?

Why I love being with women...

Actually before you get me wrong, I really really love being with men too, but my time last week in France with six fantastic women was just perfect. It felt like living in one of those character development exercises. You know, the ones where you ask your characters off-the-wall questions in order to bring them to life. Forget the whole parent, childhood, school, work scenarios, we went straight to the heart of the matter and really got to know each other by debating endlessly these questions:

1) Do you dry between your toes or not?
2) Is it important to wear matching underwear?
3) Should you eat one of those little squares of chocolate posh hotels put on your pillow if you have already cleaned your teeth?

And for the record, my answers are:
1) No
2) Yes - the one time I don't is the time I get run over by that bus
3) Just one square?

Behold....

The new cover design for Leading the Dance. I love this so much it makes me feel fuzzy inside, particularly the way the polka dots go over the spine! Look at that fourth dancer, all ready to cha-cha. Who knows, saxophone yesterday, maybe dancing lessons for me tomorrow?

Yay!

Have just done it - booked my first saxophone lesson...

Still time to enter...

Pulp Net/Bloomsbury Festival Short Story Prize
Entry fee: £6.00
Closing date: Sunday, 30 September 2007
Word length: 2500 max.
For stories with a Bloomsbury connection, theme or setting, in any genre. Prizes (1st £500, 2nd £200, 3rd £100) will be presented on Sunday 21 Oct at the Bloomsbury Festival. The winning writer has the option to read an extract from their story at the festival.

Open to all. Bloomsbury Festival has a number of no-fee places for local residents who cannot afford the entry fee; if you wish to enter and may be eligible, please email info@bloomsburyfestival.org

The Bloomsbury Festival is a contemporary, multi-disciplinary celebration of the creativity of this famous area. The 2007 Festival runs from 19th - 22nd October. www.bloomsburyfestival.org

As time goes by..

So, as I lift my head finally from my pillow and assess the state of my post-birthday hangover... no, not at all. In fact, the opposite, I've been away in France teaching and having myself a little bit of heaven. Perfect place, perfect students, and more than a few pieces of perfect work produced. More of which later. But when I came back, I found myself in one of those time-travelling moments. My son had only got himself a record player - now sold as 'nostalgia' - and discovered lots of my old records. Now, I've always been nervous when I get into one of those music coversations, not least because I was the youngest of four siblings so always had to listen to 'older' music about which I wasn't allowed an opinion because I was 'too young to understand', but mostly because I am always being told my taste is really bad and several people have made it their job to educate me into proper music (and normally given up). So I was a bit worried about what I might think of my teenage self. But, hey, it's not that bad, is it? Oh, don't raise your eyebrows like that. I don't really care any more. I loved these records!
And the one thing I'll never apologise for is my taste in heart-throbs. Look at these two men and tell me they weren't worth those nights of weeping over because they'd never be mine...


(Actually I hope my sister doesn't read this because that Who one is hers and having listened to it again this morning, she can't have it back, and if she tries I'm going to tell mum and dad she's being mean to me again....)

Happy birthday to me...

And happy birthday also to Philip, Karen and Hilary (because this seems to be a writer's birthday - any other 11th Septembers out there?) - but mostly because it's my blog, happy birthday to ME!

I've got a dream day ahead - still reeling from seeing a fabulous production of Saint Joan last night, and looking forward to Ten Canoes tonight with a perfect lunch-date along the way. And in between I'm going to do some writing and reading of my own.

I feel...

Actually, I feel fine. I'm just trying to get this blog into Jonathan Harris's research project, We Feel Fine, which has been searching through the world's blogs to accumulate snapshots of how the world is feeling. Jonathan is an artist, storyteller and computer scientist who, through his work, is trying to make personal sense of the web to 'show off a world that resonates with shared emotions, concerns, problems, triumphs and troubles.'

So I feel... happy to have listened to his talk here and excited by this work which links up all of our secrets. 'The soul of the internet', someone called it.

More on Norman

Now it seems I can't enough of Norman Mailer. After reading and making copious notes from his interview in the Paris Review, I was browsing in the Aladdin's Cave of Galignani's bookshop in Paris, and came across his collection of essays, The Spooky Art. This is a good find for me at this time, because I found inside an explanation for something I accept but has often puzzled me. I seem to work best when I get myself into a bored gloomy state - being alone in a strange city or town really makes my creative juices flow. And in retrospect, I'll look at these times as good times, even though I seem to spend most of them watching couples, and friends, and family groups with real, physical envy, wishing I was with anyone else than myself and my note pad!

However, Norman Mailer writes:

I've found that I can't do serious writing without getting into a mild depression. (Note! I am not speaking of a clinical depression.) An ongoing bad mood can be, however, a avital part of the process, because to begin with, it's perilous to fall in love with what you're doing. You lose your judgment. And for the simplest reason - the words, as you are writing them, stir up your feelings too much. Odds are, if they excite you disproportionally, they may do less to others.'

Who was it who said, of writing,: 'Kill your babies'?

Here's another quote of Mailer's I underlined:

Writing is wonderful when you talk about it. It's fun to contemplate. But writing as a daily physical activity is not agreeable. You put on weight, you strain your gut, you get gout and chilblains. You're alone, and every day you have to face a blank piece of paper.

But before we get too gloomy, I like this observation best because it sums up just how lucky I feel most of the time to be writing:

I remember Elia Kazan saying one day at Actors Studio, 'Here, we're always talking about the work. We talk about it piously. We say the work. The work. Well, we do work here, and get it straight: Work is a blessing.' He said this, glaring at every one of us. And I thought, He's right. That's what it is. A blessing.

And I do consider myself blessed, even if I have to be mildly depressed to do it best....!

Dullsville...

That's me. Just popped over to Sophie's blog because she's always interesting, got side-tracked on this quiz and am now going to work out how I can get a life because this is - apparently - me in book (er play, surely,but hey, let's not be too dull about it) form:

You're Waiting for Godot!

by Samuel Beckett

Many people think you're extremely dull, but you're just trying to
patient. Really patient. Patient to the point of absurdity, quite frankly. Whatever
you're waiting for isn't going to just come along, so you can stop waiting. I promise.
Move on with your life. Change of scenery might do you good. Heck, any scenery might
do you good. In the meantime, you do make for very interesting conversation.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

And yet another good-looking event...

Sunday 16 September, 7pm
Telegram books - www.telegrambooks.com - is hosting an evening of new writing by women at

The Cella, Sanctuary Cafe
51-55 Brunswick Street East, Hove, Nr Brighton (01273 770002)

with readings from award-winning Canadian author Alayna Munce, local author Kay Sexton and poet
Maria Jastrzebska.

Alayna will be reading from her new novel 'When I was Young and in my Prime', Kay will be reading
from 'Two Tall Tales and One Short Novel' and Maria will be reciting a selection of her work.

It is free to attend and promises to be a fascinating and stimulating evening. A chance to
support some great new works, network with other writers and have fun!

Alayna Munce will also be reading at 7.30 pm on Thursday 20 September at Queens Park Books, 87
Salusbury Road, London NW6 6NH.

NEW METAPHYSICAL POETRY AT SUSSEX

THE FROGMORE PAPERS

Jeremy Page, editor of the literary magazine The Frogmore Papers
which recently entered its twenty-fifth year of publication
introduces readings by contributors to the 70th issue including

Ros Barber, Clare Best, Ian Caws,
Judith Kazantzis, Rachel Playforth
and Catherine Smith

‘This magazine might exist just to show how good a low cost poetry mag
can be.' 10th Muse

Tuesday 16th October at 5pm
Quiet Room, Meeting House
University of Sussex


A WARM WELCOME TO ALL
£5 (£3 CONCESSIONS, £1 STUDENTS) INCLUDES WINE
NO ADVANCE BOOKING – PAY ON THE DOOR

Written words...

In the middle of a complicated texting conversation aimed at arranging somewhere to meet a friend for lunch, I suddenly realise I have another option and dial her number direct. She answers straight away - of course she does, she's holding her phone waiting for me to text back - but sounds surprised, almost defensive to hear my voice. In seconds, we have our plans all sorted, but when I finish the conversation I have the feeling I've transgressed some (unwritten) rule - that there's something strange now about actually speaking to someone rather than relying on the written words of email or text. At lunch though we can't stop talking. A minute after we part, the text alert tone on my phone goes. 'It was lovely to see you,' I read. This time I don't call her back but text instead. 'You too,' I write. 'Let's do it again soon.'

Seeing sideways

Now I'm an expert at procrastination, but even I hadn't thought of being this crafty. Puts a whole new light on writers seeing things from a new angle...

Here's one I made earlier...

You don't get to be a writer without being obsessed by books. I've never understood writers who profess never to read anyone else's work, or have found one who didn't use to haunt libraries or other people's book shelves when they were a kid. BUT it's not solely for the words, there's a deep pleasure in the physical being of books, the way the covers open and sometimes - if you're lucky - slap back together with a satisfying noise, the slight flaws you get sometimes along the edge of the paper, how it feels in your hand and the smell, oh the smell. One of my best moments ever was finding Bloomsbury had put one of those thin red bookmarks in the hard cover of Something Beginning With. It really was like a present.

Anyway, I've just come back from a week learning how to make books for myself. It was surprisingly hard work. The group I was in went into overdrive from day one - starting at 9am and sometimes not finishing until we were chucked out of the workshop at 10pm. But what a luxury to concentrate on one thing for so long. Our first day was spent visiting Khadi papers for possibly the most orgasmic half hour of my life. So many colours, so many papers, so many textures. Yum, yum, yum. Then we calmed ourselves down by realising we were going to have to do something with all the papers we'd bought.

This is one of my books. I wanted to do something with one of my poems, Night Letters, and what better way to package it than to make a bed?


The poem unfolds in concertina fashion from the headboard - each stanza slowly following the next in a way I like much better than just reading it on the page:


And although my handwriting might not be perfect, I did get to write with a gold pen:


Just spending a week concentrating about the structure of a book (and for the purists among you, I did spend most of the time learning how to make a book 'properly' with sewn on covers, careful measurements etc before letting myself loose on having fun with the bed), makes me think even more why we haven't moved on from the basic shape of a traditional book. Of course, B S Johnson did try to change everything, particularly with his The Unfortunates, but I can't help noticing that even this positive review uses both 'infamous' and 'notorious' in the first sentence as if he's done something he should be ashamed about.

But children's publishers know all about tactile pleasure in books - Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar must be as popular with parents as well as kids for the way you get to play with the pages. I remember from when my kids were small, books that rattled, or scratched, and, of course, popped up in surprising ways.

Maybe it's just that strange shaped books don't fit easily into bookshelves once we become adults? Can't be tidied away and forgotten about? I'm on a mission now to find adult fiction books that let me play as a reader, not just with the words, and won't let themselves be tucked away. Any suggestions gratefully received.

The end of the world and terrible danger ahead...

I should have known better than send Lemony Snicket a fan letter, but I got bored tonight so re-read one of his Series of Unfortunate Events. Loved it all over again, looked up his website and fired off an email. Here's the reply....

Dear Writer

Thank you for your message. When you wrote it, you probably thought you might receive a reply from Lemony Snicket. You were almost wrong.

I’m sorry to tell you that a letter from Mr. Snicket could put you in terrible danger. For instance, Mr. Snicket wrote a number of letters to a woman named Beatrice, the most alarming of which are contained within the book The Beatrice Letters, and she subsequently died a sad, horrible, awful death that still plagues me to this day. This is an extreme case, of course, but you can see why you would never want to receive a letter signed by Mr. Snicket.

There is at least one thing more dangerous than a letter by Mr. Snicket, however, and that is a book by him. Each of the books in A Series of Unfortunate Events have been more dreadful than the last. The End, the thirteenth and final book in the series, is the most upsetting of all.

Sadly, your message to Lemony Snicket suggests that you may have already read one or several of his books. While I’m sure he is somewhat grateful for your interest in the Baudelaire case, hopefully it is not too late for you to stop before The End. Wouldn’t you prefer to read something else?

With all due respect,

Anonymous Representative
HarperCollins Publishers
Department of Vital Fan Disclosure

p.s. You also probably shouldn’t visit www.lemonysnicket.com , sign up for AuthorTracker, or view The Vile Videos.

But just in case you panic and think I really have been captured by Count Olaf, I should probably tell you I'm away for the next week. In hiding. Normal service will be resumed in September.

Healing through stories

I've been a fan of Frida's notebook for some time now, and - like a few other blogs - it's become an extraordinarily privileged part of my day in that I can visit so many different worlds from the comfort of my computer. Today's post really hit home though, when Frida talks about how hard it is just to listen to other people's stories, but also how important that listening can be. I do encourage you to start visiting the blog yourself. The photographs are amazing, and there's humour here as well as an insight into what's happening in this desperate situation, but this post is particularly moving. She describes compellingly the conflict she feels about her need to record certain facts as part of her job as a human rights lawyer, and her understanding of how the story needs to be told in order to be part of the healing process (and I do hope she won't mind me using her words):

"Where is the time to simply listen? To listen to the story as the teller wishes to tell it. To let it be, perhaps, for today, explaining that I would like to document this story as a human rights case but that in order to do that I will need to ask more detailed questions. To ask if I could return to do that another day, once the storyteller has had time to think about what he or she wants to get out of telling the story to me. Where is the time to do that?"

I've done a fair bit of listening to other people myself as well as reading and researching into narrative therapy, but reading Frida's words tonight made it clear once again just how important stories are - outside books, as well as in them. And why I need to find time to just stop talking myself and listen more. I don't mind saying I feel in awe of her sometimes - she's doing amazing work.

Home is Where Hatred Is

The powerfully titled pamphlet - 'Home is Where the Hatred Is' - is a collection of poems by seven women writers, all of whom share the experience of having to leave their country of birth in order to find a safe place to live and write. Many of the poems hit a punch - as good poetry does - through their simplicity, showing more than any newspaper report what it must be like to have to leave everything familiar behind, including (maybe especially) language. I must have re-read Huriye Gunes's 'My Sister' many many times and although it's only seven lines long, it still moves me to tears every time. 'Read the biographies,' asks the editor Lynette Craig (see below) and when I did, I was struck by the energy of the poets involved; it made me realise why creativity can - and should - matter so much. 'Life-enhancing' is the apt description on the back of this book, and that's what I was left feeling after I'd read the whole of it. Very very lucky too.

Because I was so impressed, I asked the editor Lynette Craig to explain a little about the project behind the poems and this is what she wrote:

"I first met Soheila Ghodsitinat in a workshop for exiled writers, which I was running under the auspices of Exiled Writers Ink and Islington Enterprises. She is an energetic and determined writer who had the idea of getting several of her writing friends together to put out this booklet. She didn't wait for approval but set about finding the funding and organising its production herself. Of the seven women whose work is in this collection, five are London based and actively engaged in writing and performing projects. They are typical of the vibrancy in the exiled community.

"Often exiled writers have endured hardship and suffering; some are only too aware of a lack in language skills. Undeterred by all this they seek out courses and individuals who are sympathetic to their aims. So this is where I came in and agreed to edit the booklet. Loss, persecution, wandering, a need to belong, nostalgia are all themes in this collection but tempered by humour and endurance. When you have read the poems, read the brief biographies at the end of the booklet. Then try to define 'home'."

The poets featured in the pamphlet are:
Nora Armani
Valbona Voca Bashota
Sofia Buchuck-Lluvia
Soheila Ghodsitinat
Huriye Gunes
Sifundo Msebele
Nela Melic

editor Lynette Craig; design Maryam Hasemi
ISBN 978-1-905599-32-5

Copies are available from Soheila Ghodstinat at sghodstinat@yahoo.com.

The novel as war

In the current edition of the Paris Review, there's an excellent interview of Norman Mailer by Andrew O'Hagan.

At one point in the interview, O'Hagan asks:

'Might it be said, in any event, that writing is a sort of self-annihiliation?'

Mailer replies:

'It uses you profoundly. There's simply less of you after you finish a book, which is why writers can be so absolutely enraged at cruel criticisms that they feel are unfair. We feel we have killed ourselves once writing the book, and now they are seeking to kill us again for too little... yet if you're writing a good novel they you're being an explorer - you're getting into something where you don't know the end, where the end is not given. There's a mixture of dread and excitement that keeps you going. To my mind, it's not worth writing a novel unless you're tackling something where your chances are open. You can fail. You're gambling with your psychic reserves. It's as if you were the general of an army of one, and this general can really drive that army into a cul-de-sac.'

There's an videoed interview here.

Look at me! I've joined the Simpsons. You can be simpsonized too... (but that link's not working - so here's the website - http://simpsonizeme.com/#)

Signing off

Probably it's not a surprise that I really love letters - the shape, the sexiness, the joy of them, what they can do, of course, but just letters on their own really - so I'm really excited to find out about The Boneyard - a three acre site in Vegas for decommissioned neon signs.

And you can see an aerial shot of it here (although the marker looks as if its in the middle of the road).

More photographs here. (Link, as in all good links, from BB)

(ps talking about photographs, I'm not sure why I've suddenly gone such a funny shape in my own mugshot. Any advice would be welcome!)

Killer heels...

Isn't this exactly what happened to Carrie in Sex and the City ... but somehow it's even funnier with these newsreaders laughing.



I picked this up from here when I was hoping to find some serious business advice, but it's better to have such a good laugh. Mind you, now I've stopped giggling, I'm worried as to what she was doing carrying a watering can anyway. I really really don't want to have to lug one around to complete my outfit next season - especially if it's still raining.

Mood Music ...

... quite literally here. Choose how you feel and let the site choose some music that's just right for you. Is it me or is it quite a beautiful design too? Something really pleasing about all those little diagrams, a kind of nerdy DJ who would definitely alphabeticise every song. What do you mean you're happy? We're still only on the L's of feeling blue...

And here's a cold shower for those of you who got a little excited by my last post...

Googling

So this is Sexy Sarah here, with poems about grandparents, birthdays, and cherry trees; tips on writing porn; cleaning ears safely; ways to write your name; pictures of camels; a how-to of bathroom etiquette; fathers singing; confessions of solitaire addiction; gluten-free recipes; top sheds; dark characters and the last word on all your homework problems....

Nope, haven't gone mad - just off for a couple of days and have been checking up on how people reached this site through their google searches in a pathetic attempt to make sure I still get visitors. Welcome!

And my writing prompts for while I'm away are going to be all of the above - I particularly like 'Tips on Writing Porn' as a short story title...

Superheroes

Don't ask me why but I have been thinking a lot about the need to be a superhero recently. One of those questionnaires I had to fill in for publicity about two years ago asked me what superpower I'd like to possess, and I said 'invisibility'. This worries me now - maybe it's all those readings I've been doing recently, but if I'm going to save the planet I want everyone to know about it. Yay, yay, yay, go supersarah! But in the meantime, here are some superheroes teaching yoga. I know, I didn't believe it either. How cool is this site?! Just look at that little playmobile pirate doing downward dog, he's going to get dissected by his sword if he's not careful! And here are Spiderman and Barbie having a go. Spiderman's in there with more than a chance, if you ask me....

Anyway, superpowers or not, it seems, according to this site anyway, I'll be signing a happy song as I fly merrily around. I rather like this too - something's definitely up with me, all this cheeriness and merrily popping my head up above the parapet. Still, as my grandmother would say, enjoy it while it lasts because a pigeon's going to poo on you soon enough (well, she'd never have mentioned the actual bodily functions but we'd have got the message). Have a beautiful day everyone!

Your Theme Song is Beautiful Day by U2

"Sky falls, you feel like It's a beautiful day Don't let it get away" You see the beauty in life, especially in ordinary everyday moments. And if you're feeling down, even that seems a little beautiful too.

What's Your Theme Song?

Saving bookshops

I can't remember the first time I was taken to Heffers bookshop in Cambridge and allowed to choose my own book. I can't even remember what book it was, although I was always a sucker for stories about posh girls (being absolutely not one myself) so it was probably a Madeline. Or at least, I'd like to think of it being a Madeline book because those twelve little girls in two straight lines still give me pleasure every time I re-read them. What I can remember though is a full size mirror in the children's bit of the bookshop that made you look as if you had a funny shape, that moment of panic when there were TOO many books I wanted, and the excitment when I had chosen and rushed up to my father, to see then what my two brothers and sister had chosen. God, how lucky was I? Not just to be given books, but to be allowed to treat bookshops as somewhere normal, even fun, and not places you might not be allowed to go into if you're not the 'right sort' (as some people think). Because the four of us Peplow kids were absolutely not the right sort. We never learnt the art of staying still and not sticking our fingers up our noses and respecting personal space - and all those things the kids who won the Blue Peter badges seemed to know. With us, there would always be an argy-bargy even as we went through the bookshop door, with one kid shoving another out of the way; as the youngest, I was born with an effective elbow-technique. In fact, that's probably where I learnt it. Let me out first, mum! Only to find out I was last. Doomed to disappointment from day one.

Anyway, I digress. These trips were probably monthly and they were different from our weekly visits to the library. The library was wonderful, but part of the pleasure was that it was for everyone. The bookshop and the books we got were simply for us. We'd all be clutching our books as we drove home, and then retreat to separate parts of the house to read them. It was probably the only time we were quiet.

Now, if I have any time to spare in a town, I'll head straight for a bookshop which probably expains my to-be-read pile. Someone once told me that buying a book is actually buying the time to read that book. I've got at least a year saved up for me by the side of my bed alone.

So this a long preamble as to why I've signed this petition to save the Waterstones in Wood Green from Me and My Big Mouth. This is what Scott says:

This would be a complete disaster for the area. We do not need another clothes shop, mobile phone shop or fast food shop. Our kids need bookshops. We have started an online petition in the last few days which has already gathered over 200 signatures including those of writers Chris Salewicz, Jonathan Harvey, Lucy Gannon, Chris Lang, Paul Gilroy and Rafaella Barker. We have also complained to the local councillors, Lynne Featherstone and David Lammy MP, the Mayor and alerted the local press. There's no spam, no junk mail, no access to your email address and no money required and it only takes a minute to do. This is purely about supporting the idea of keeping the only good bookshop in our area and helping kids develop a love for reading.

Wood Green High Street is already full of clothes shops and this is the only dedicated bookshop for miles around. As you may be aware, Wood Green is an underprivileged area with quite a large ethnic minority population and it just seems that closing the only decent bookshop in the area will have a devastating effect. It does not seem to be an accident that Waterstone's are trying to do this in the school holidays when we cannot contact local schools and colleges.

This is not just about somewhere to buy books. This is about supporting a place where mums can have a coffee while their kids browse the books and develop an appetite for reading at an early stage, where the staff are actually knowledgeable and helpful, where kids can meet local authors at signings which bring books to life. We will certainly be opposing this move to the last and contacting all the local papers. We very much hope that Waterstone's will reconsider.

The link to our petition is below where you can read some comments from local people about this decision. Please sign it and forward on to your friends. If you have any other writers, celebs who you think might be willing to email-sign please forward it to them.....go on, this is your chance to show off that address book!

You can sign here.

Three Wednesday Things

Some favourite fashiony sites today - these are ones that make me smile because clothes should, above all, make you smile, and sometimes I think I forget that.

1. Starting with the anti-fashion The Brown Dress blog - Alex Martin decided to wear the same dress EVERY DAY for a year. This is the diary. (Her recycling project is equally fascinating - I'm tempted to join her 'slow fashion movement'.

2. A Dress a Day is almost the opposite, in that it is a different dress every day. But these are dresses with a difference - I have to say this blog has become an obsession for me, and my sewing machine is slowly inching out from the pile of dust it's forgotten under.

3) And now for something completely different, The Budget Fashionista is all about shopping. But who can resist a headline like: 'Can you wear a cocktail ring?'....

Sheds

The only slightly obsessional Alex at Shedworking has started a fascinating series of Great Fictional Sheds. So far, he's put up the shepherd's hut in Far From the Madding Crowd and Yoda's hut from Star Wars, but now, just when I was really enjoying myself, he's gone on holiday, presumably with a great stack of books to search through in the hope of finding a shed or two. Alex has put in this paragraph from Hardy which made me laugh, as I could just imagine Hardy putting in as an aside: 'and that's why women should never be allowed a shed of their own. They just don't understand why us men need to be alone sometimes...' (The 'she' of course is Bathsheba):

"It was not exactly the fault of the hut," she observed in a tone which showed her to be that novelty among women -- one who finished a thought before beginning the sentence which was to convey it. "You should, I think, have considered, and not have been so foolish as to leave the slides closed."

Mind you, if Alex finds other photographs of the young Alan Bates to accompany future postings, I shall leave him in complete peace in his shed.

Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow...

Neil Gaiman's reading ME, and not only that I've got my own label on his blog! I love Neil Gaiman's labels. Actually, let's be honest, I just love Neil Gaiman. This calls for a shake of the Mighty Oracle at least. I am one happy woman tonight - and thanks to Nik for letting me know!

I'm often moved by posts I read on other blogs, but nothing's hit me quite so much recently as this one from the paris breakfast blog. It just makes me think of how many other dreams have been lost like the one this woman had, and how lucky I am to live even a little bit of one. I can't stop thinking about the mother taking pleasure later on in inspecting how the garments were made, rather than just what they looked like. It's like writing - one real joy of reading is taking apart a story, novel, whatever, to see how the writer created it. And the post is certainly well written, with just the perfect proportions and absolutely straight seams.

Arvon Magic

So it's over, but if I ever had any doubt that there is such a thing as Arvon magic, any day over the last week would have convinced me. From the minute we all arrived, separately and a little defensively maybe, at the Hurst for our short story course, the sun shone and it didn't stop until we left on a grey Saturday morning. Of course, everything was helped by the fact taht there were sixteen (eighteen including Jean and I) committed writers present, and we even managed to have fun as well. The last two nights were spent enjoying fantastic short stories, some of which had been written over the previous three days, and there was even a short story slam, won by our youngest contestant, sixteen year old Clemmy who came up with alternative deadly sins. My highlights included sitting writing by the lake, the 'saucy' chocolate pudding, hearing complete stories I'd seen just one day earlier as little more than notes, and being shocked into silence (for probably the first time in my teaching career) by some of the secrets held by the 'characters' produced in a writing exercise. Thanks to everyone who participated - it was a real celebration of writing of the best kind - when a 'how to do it' turns into a 'this is how I've done it'. I'm not sure I've heard so many different writing voices in one room as I did during the evening reading sessions - proof that writing courses don't turn out clones. That was magic enough.

The best view in England

So this is where I'm off to next week. The Hurst is the former home of playwright, John Osborne, who called the view down to the Clun Valley 'the best view in England’. Now, it's one of the four Arvon centres in Britain, and we're going to spend the week looking at short stories in particular. There is a full house of students so I'm guessing there won't be much time for admiring the view, but in the meantime I'm enjoying the perfect 'glimpses' in the stories of my fellow tutor, Jean McNeil. I'll be back in a week.

Friday Fact

Now, I read a fact like this and I automatically want to prove it wrong, but I've been trying all morning and I can't find another word that'll do. Hmm. Anyway, apparently, ALMOST is the longest commonly used word in the English language with all the letters in alphabetical order.

How to kiss

Kissing, cakes, good books - never say I'm not good to you....



And sunny kissing is my writing prompt for today.

The art of editing

Wonderful piece about what an editor does and why we need them here.

Good Game!

Japanese Tetris - Watch more free videos

Have watched this far too many times than is good for me - why don't they all do what that clever one did, just make themselves really small and dive through? Oh how much I'd love a go at this.

Thanks to womagwriter for the link.

Who likes this rain?

From theWooster Collective website (and found via the ever inspiring BB-blog)

Fleeting Passions

God, how much I love the short story. Even spending a whole day talking about them, and having them analysed by academics, surely the ultimate of all passion killers, isn't enough to stem my obsession. Instead, I left Saturday's conference with a clutch of story ideas, books to try and notes I've been chuckling over ever since. Some of my scribbles seem like post-modernist story ideas in themselves. What did I mean exactly by 'Cooking pot - ideas in body?' or 'don't think and then finish it'? I'm sure it made perfect sense at the time. Luckily, I did also come away with some solid questions to ponder. Alan Wall, my fellow reader and hero of the key, posed the idea that the difference between an oral tale and a written story is that the story contained two worlds that bumped into each other, while a tale is dependent on a unified world where everyone involved understood the signifiers. You could tell a tale easily because of its simplicity, while a story had to be read in order to be understood. This led to some good discussion in the coffee breaks.

In her paper, Dr Paola Trimarco, of the Open University, looked interestingly at how the reader fills in the gaps in flash fiction. One example of hers was Graham Swift's six word story -

Funeral followed honeymoon. He was 90.

As she expected we would, we all laughed when she read it out, but our assumption that it was funny was based on the fact that the funeral followed swiftly after the honeymoon - all honeymoons will be followed by funerals of course, but hopefully years apart. Also that the 90 year old was the groom, and that the bride was young. And that it was the over-enthusiastic sex that had killed the groom. She was right, of course, and looking again at the story, it's clear that the author is expecting us to do a lot of assuming, otherwise the story is meaningless. It's made me want to try to write a story using parallel narratives of both the given statements and the story about the gaps.

And my third aha moment came with Phil Nichols from the University of Wolverhampton who presented on the adaptations of Ray Bradbury's short stories. One of the reasons Phil gave as to why these short stories had been translated into stage and film quite so often was that (as so often in SF) the landscape is the hero, and by foregrounding the landscape it could be adjusted to different forms. Again, I kept thinking about a story just using landscape - could you write one without people at all? Has it been done?

I had a great train journey home reading Dave Evans Portrait of a Playboy and other stories, a collection that ought to be much better known than it is, but as always with these conferences, there were plenty of papers I would have liked to have gone to, but just couldn't fit in. I'm still cross at missing 'Writing Gothic Fiction', because it was definitely calling me, but I compensated this morning by ordering two recommended collections, Karen Russell's St Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves and Kelly Link's strange looking Magic For Beginners.

And, joy of joys, this morning, Philip O'Ceallaigh's Notes from A Turkish Whorehouse arrived. I wish I could remember who recommended this to thank them, because although I've just dipped in so far, it looks brilliant. A positive short story orgy ahead.

Harold's Planet makes me happy

I know I've written about them before but getting a weekly cartoon into my inbox from Harold's Planet is one of my HOORAY moments of the week. And now I've just found out they've got an exhibition coming up in London, at the Dray Walk Gallery, Old Truman's Brewery, 13-16th September (which conveniently happens to be around my birthday. Are you listening, F?) In the meantime, the artwork is being showcased here.

Literature in Translation

A discussion on Literature in Translation with Robert Chandler, Daniel Hahn, and Amanda Hopkinson will take place on Thursday, 26th July at 7 pm. The venue is Waterstone's, 68-69 Hampstead High Street, London NW3 1QP. Tickets cost £3 and are available in person or on 020 7794 1098.

Robert Chandler is one of the foremost translators of Russian literature at work today. He has translated Pushkin, Vasily Grossman, Andrei Platanov and others.

Daniel Hahn won the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize 2007 for his translation of Jose Eduardo Agualusa's The Book of Chameleons. He sits on the English PEN’s Writers in Translation Committee.

Amanda Hopkinson (Chair) is Director of BCLT, Chair of the Writers in Translation Committee and a translator of French, Spanish, and Portuguese into English. Her latest translation (co-translated with Nick Caistor) is of Rodolfo Fogwill's "Malvinas Requiem", just out with Serpent's Tail.

Out of The Tunnel

There's been a lot written about Rachel North recently, but even so that's probably not enough. I had heard her story before I read her memoir, 'Out of the Tunnel' - how she was raped and left for dead by a stranger who knocked on her door one night, and, two years later, she was one of the passengers on a 7/7 tube, only surviving because of the crush of other passengers around. And if that wasn't enough, she's recently been stalked through her blog and then, just when her book was finally being published and everything was looking good, her mother had a stroke. It's the kind of series of events that makes you want to hear just how someone could survive all that intact. Well, this book makes it clear how they do - Rachel's not just a victim, and doesn't want to be treated as one. She certainly doesn't want to be cynically used as one by people with ulterior motives. Reading this book made me think how easy it is to pigeonhole other people - ah, poor girl - and how dangerous that can be. It's the way Rachel is prepared to speak out, and really search through to the truth, that cuts through all that. The experiences she's been through seem to have made her more determined to help other people cope with their lives, and not in a sickly sweet way either. This woman can get angry, which just makes her all the more likeable and impressive. She really does care - and so should we. I get the feeling that Rachel sees information now as the most valuable thing she can offer, and she's a powerhouse of facts and thoughts - just take a look at her blog. In fact, that's what I liked most about this book - how it felt like Rachel wanted to share these experiences with me as reader even though it wasn't going to be easy and the responsibility I then had to listen. I found myself cringing in lots of bits, but I couldn't stop reading. You never forget Rachel's a real person, not just a photograph or a news report, and that's the most valuable lesson for me from this book. The joy in just being ordinary - in being able to wish someone an 'ordinary year', in having someone look at your battered face and seeing, not that, but the ordinary, old non-perfect 'you' underneath the bruises. And there's plenty of joy in here too - in fact, that's what I was left with, a feeling of pride and inspiration. A great book.

Reading tart

So, I'm off in the rain for my third reading of the week. This is definitely NOT normal for me. Three years ago, I would have rather gouged my eyes out than stand up in front of a group of strangers and read out something I'd written. In fact, my first reading was kept an absolute secret in case anyone I knew turned up, because I was so sure I was going to a) fall over b) burst out crying c) be heckled d) lose my ability to see (and therefore read) or e) realise that what I had written was absolute crap and not be able to carry on. But slowly, slowly, I grew to like it. And now I like it very much indeed.

I don't even hear all those voices from my childhood any more - Sarah Peplow, what are you doing showing off like that! Come and sit down and be a nice quiet girl! As if anyone wanted to hear what you have to say!

No siree, it's very difficult to get me out of the spotlight these days. I wasn't even embarrassed recently when I had to be asked to leave a recent seminar I was a guest reader at because they wanted to get on with the next bit and I had outstayed my welcome. If the host hadn't done that, I would have stayed talking all day.

So of course, at tomorrow's conference, I will stand up and a) fall over b) burst out crying c) be heckled d) lose my ability to see and e) realise.... you get the picture, but even so I don't think that will stop me aching for the next go! And I still get nervous too, but now I have certain people I can yelp at beforehand and who will always offer calm advice. My favourite text came as I was travelling by train to a reading recently - 'Tell yourself loudly and clearly: 'I am a Goddess', and then grab a large gin from the trolly'.

Seriously, I think the biggest change in my attitude towards readings came when I realised that actually what the audience wanted was to be entertained rather than to physically and mentally torture me. It wasn't supposed to be a painful ordeal. Going to see other writers helped a lot. Sharon Olds, in particular, is a fantastic reader, talking rather than pronouncing, and funny too. You feel you've spent some time with a real person, and a person who is enjoying herself too. This recording highlights everything that, to me, is good about a reading. The poem she reads about catching sight of her middle-aged rear view made me laugh so much (in a bitterly empathetic way!)

How I Feel Right Now...

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

First lines...

Ooooh I love a quiz like this, and at least I came out 'Well Read' (if only just).

And perhaps reading more about the Jane Austen case where an academic and would-be writer sent off a lightly changed extract and received rejections left right and centre, it's not altogether surprising. After all, it was only recently that Jane Austen was considered 'too ugly' to have her likeness on the cover. I'm not laughing - alert readers of Tell Me Everything have pointed out my photograph's nowhere to be seen in that book either!

Poetry Thursday

Neil Gaiman reading 'Instructions'. Silly, but I like it.

And if you want more Poetry Thursdays, go to the original site and look through the comments to visit plenty of good blogs. Or you can click on this pretty button:

Paris Parfait is always one of my favourites - beautiful photographs too.

What if...

..the human race was wiped out? How long would it take for our traces to disappear? According to this, fragments of radio and television broadcasts would be travelling outward forever, so although our physical presence dissolves, our voices will carry on. This is all from the Alan Weisman's website, author of The World Without Us. I can't stop watching the video of the house slowly falling down. Is it me or is it strangely calming?

The Star of the Show...

... at my reading yesterday was definitely the venue. The independent and charitably funded Bishopsgate Library is quite possibly the best place I've ever had the pleasure of reading in. As well as being a beautiful room, just look at that ceiling, it also hosts world famous collections on freethought, the labour movement and London. It felt a privilege to read in there, and with a great audience too. The questions thrown at Shaun and I varied from creating a 'realer world than the real world' in novel writing to thinking commercially in the writing process - and it ended up being the best possible discussion, one which certainly left me thinking until far too late for much sleep!

The library is open every day, although accesss to the collections needs to be arranged in advance. I really would recommend it - even if you're not normally in the area. It must be an inspiring place just to sit, read, work and write.

Ella Minnow Pea

When Scott Pack first told me the idea behind Mark Dunn's book Ella Minnow Pea, I could feel myself go rigid with excitement.

The book's premise involves a statue of Nevin Nollop, the author of the sentence 'The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog' on the small island of Nollop. Nothing much happens in Nollop, but then one day a Z falls off the sentence and the Island council decree that no one should use the letter Z as a result. The islanders see this a quaint decision to begin with, and even plan Z farewell parties, until reality hits. They are faced with a death sentence (appropriately!) if they ever use a Z in their spoken or written language. Then a Q falls off, and more and more letters are banned as they drop one by one off the sentence. Eventually - guess what - only L,M,N,O,P remain - Nevin Nollop lives on!

The book is billed as 'A Progressively Lipogrammatic Epistolary Fable', but what I love about it is that it's so much more than a great idea. I started reading it thinking it would be fun, but found it swiftly chilling. It's got one of the sweetest love stories in it - in fact two, and the book even becomes a thriller as the search for an alternative sentence develops. One page of the book is this simple decree:

Nollopians:
G go tinite at mitnite. No more 'G'. So long 'G'.
Penta-priests

I often worry I'm too geeky in how much I love wordplay, but this book makes me feel better. I can't believe I missed it first time round, but am so happy to have discovered it now. If nothing else for these alternative days of the week when 'D' drops off the sentence, and therefore out of the language:

"For Sunday, please use Sunshine
For Monday, please use Monty
For Tuesday, please use Toes
For Wednesday, please use Wetty
For THursday, please use Thurby
For Friday, please use Fribs
For Saturday, please use Satto-gatto.
Parents: you may wish to help your children absorb these new words by turning the process into a game of some sort, simple flash cards also constituting a tried and efficient course"

Have a good Toes today everyone....

Need a mummy?

When we were kids we used to always ask Mum whether it was a 'jacket or coat' day before we set off for school - we must have been convinced that among her magic powers, she knew what would happen with the weather. There have been plenty of times this Summer that I've missed that oracle, so nice to find this, possibly the most useful service I've come across on the internet. And comforting too - do try it with the sound on. It's fixed on Mexico City because that's where my teenage son is at the moment, and I can at least be prepared if he should ever email me and ask 'jacket or coat, Mum?'.

You're a little bit early, love!

Good practice dictates you should arrive at a reading about half an hour before, but here am I, reading and waiting at the Second Life centre more than TWENTY FOUR HOURS before the reading was due to start. I was petrified I wouldn't be able to get my avator to sit nicely (and in that short skirt too)! Anyway, my host, Adele Ward, kindly rescued me and took me off for a virtual jacuzzi, and I managed to calm down a bit. The show was fun, although it was slightly strange, actually extraordinarily strange, not to be able to see the audience's reaction. They seemed to enjoy it, and I quickly learnt to prod my avator every so often because even it fell asleep as I was reading at times! There are going to be weekly readings from other authors which I plan to attend at the same time and same place, The Joysco Stadium, Sunday 10pm (GMT), but in the meantime, thanks to Jonny Austin, everyone who came and most of all, Adele, for the experience! And if you weren't there, and want to catch my reading, it's here. I'm still cringing about the bit I said 'she threw her head over her shoulder' instead of 'hair', but hey, it's Second Life, anything goes!

And I'm wondering now how it will compare to this week's 'real life' reading. Certainly it will take a lot to beat the virtual champagne we shared after the event!

Pulp

The latest edition of this brilliant on-line magazine is now up. I particularly enjoyed Nuala Ni Chonchuir's story, "To The World of Men, Welcome".

Exciting blogging stuff...

Press the Bookarazzi magic button at the side and you will be transported to a magic kingdom of clever bloggers, advice, fun, and Lucy Pepper's clever drawings. Go on, press it. You know you want to...

(And major thanks to Clare for doing all the hard work.)

Friday Fact

In Japan, apparently, a man's 60th birthday is commemorated with a special ceremony. He is given a red kimono, which denotes that he no longer has the responsibilities of being a mature adult.

(whereas in the UK he buys himself a red sports car at the age of 45 and calls it a mid-life crisis. Oooo, put those claws away, Salway.)

Poetry Thursday

Foreign countries...

"Men like women who write. Even though they don't say so. A writer is a foreign country." Marguerite Duras

You Are Invited To A London Reading...

An Evening with Sarah Salway, Shaun Levin and other writers - Tuesday 17th July, 7pm
At the Bishopsgate Institute, 230 Bishopsgate, London EC2M 4QH

Sarah Salway's work has been called hilarious, heart-warming and darkly funny. She will be reading from her new novel, Tell Me Everything, and answering questions in this evening of literary delights and surprises. ‘I galloped through this - couldn’t stop once I started…spiky, sparky, pithy and deep’. (Kate Long, author of The Bad Mother’s Handbook.)

Shaun Levin, author of Seven Sweet Things and A Year of Two Summers, will also be reading from his work, alongside students from Bishopsgate Institute's creative writing workshops.

Tuesday 17 July

7.00pm
£5, concs £4; advance booking required - Call our ticket line on 020 7392 9220 between 9.30am - 5.30pm, Monday to Friday.

Starting as you mean to go on..

Let's start the week with some good news...

The lovely and wise Clare Grant is finally going to have her blog made into a book we can hold in our hands and admire. Far too good for a loo book, I say.

And because Clare is from Tunbridge Wells, and so am I, and so is Dan, who I sat next to at Live Earth (despite the fact he'd gone there specifically to get away from people from Tunbridge Wells), and because we had the Tour de France whizz through our town on Sunday, here is the proof that Tunbridge Wells can do it best...

Eek, I'm not going to survive the zombies!!!!

39%

Ok, 39% isn't very good, but looking at these questions, I'd be very very worried about anyone who did any better.

At last, at last....

I can hardly breathe from excitement. Just a couple of hours before I get to finally see my favourite boys...


And what do you mean, there are other people playing?

Friday Fact

Surprise, surprise, researchers have found that men talk just as much as women. What does interest me though is this quote:

The most talkative man in the study used 47,000 words while the least used a little more than 500 over a few days.

I am trying to think of what type of person could only use 500 words a day. I just have to write a story about him! Teaching in a university as I do, this admission made me laugh:

The researchers admit that their findings may not apply to all men as they only studied university students.

And the last word, aptly, goes to a relationship therapist, Paula Hill, who advises:

"The problem is not how much people talk or don't talk, the problem is how well people listen.

"If women listened more we might find men talked more than we thought, and if men listened they might find that women actually don't talk a lot of rubbish all the time. Some of what we say is actually valuable."

Well, I have to admit it did pass me by, but luckily Alex was on hand to remind me that this is the first ever National Shed Week, and the photograph above is the winner of the unique category of the Readers Shed competition. Although to me it looks more like a temple, but this what the organisers said:

"Tony has done what most sheddies would love to do, turn their normal garden shed into a unique building that's not afraid to stand out from the usual shed crowd," says Uncle Wilco, head sheddie of readersheds.co.uk.

Oh, I so much want to be a sheddie...(but am taking some consolation in the fact I'm whipping Alex in Scott's Fantasy Tennis Tournament, shed or no shed. Hey, I never said I wasn't competitive.)