TIM LOVE'S REVIEW

I must be careful how I get out of bed. Last night my writer was very over-excited, because she had something called a review. Whatever that is, she was pleased.

There's this place called Tim Love's Literary References. He does something with computers, or er (I don't know) at Cambridge University.

Cambridge University is a few old buildings and a few old professors. I am still in Infants myself, and am just starting Red Book 3. We have new buildings and I like that. Less spiders.

However. This person has this great website that's chocca with information and links and this and that all to do with his love of literature.

That's why he is called Love. I don't know why he's called Tim.

But HE says I'm OK.

So that's good.

He even says I've got enough good stories in me that I could be used to teach how short stories ought to be written... Wow.

That means I am nearly better than Red Book 3.

TIM LOVE'S REVIEW HERE

Finalising Launch Party Arrangements

So today, I got stuffed in a bag and taken to London. I was left under a table while my owner (the batty writer) had lunch, then taken in a taxi... (I like those. The engines make a good noise. Better than her car).

Then we were in this amazing place full of pictures, and exhibits about a foundling hospital, and something to do with G F Handel...

My writer gave me to a lady who said I was beautiful. (I like that!!)

Then there was a lot of talk about a party with 110 people so far and some haven't replied yet...that seems a lot to me. I'd tell a few not to come, myself. Parties should be nice and intimate...



But then we went into this room where it's being held. I have to say it is great. Beautiful, and huge, with these extraordinary paintings. The nice lady held me the right way up too.

(You see, books like me hate being held upside down. It makes the words rush to our heads...)

Anyway. We had a private tour round. Just like the guests will on the night. It IS amazing.

The writer can take up the wine and the books well before the party. Which is good, apparently.

And they might be selling me in their shop. I have to behave though, or they won't.

The 'Is one of those for me' issue

It is fascinating. Seems people assume that the books in the box are freebies.

NO they aren't.

They cost me to write. Time and tears. Why should they be freebies?

My Second Outing

I reckon there is something odd about this person who takes me out of my box.

This morning we went to a church, at Berwick.

"Not to worry, "she says "I'm not a churchy sort..." then she sticks me down on a pew and starts doing stuff with spray polish, dusters and a bright red Henry hoover.

Haven't been in one of these places before, although they are mentioned in one of my stories.

And I was wondering if they are all covered in paintings like this one is. Just covered. Not old paintings. Newish ones.

Anyway, when she'd done with the hoover, this batty woman I've been landed with propped me up on the chancel steps (she said) and took my picture a couple of times.

Seems like the paintings are by something called The Bloomsbury Group. People called Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant and their mates. Quentin Bell too. What sort of name is that, then?

Apparently, this Vanessa had a sister who wrote a bit, but committed suicide just before the paintings were done. I wouldn't know anything about that.



I would like to ask this person I've been landed with why she cleans the place. I expect it's because she's fond of it.

MY FIRST OUTING!

Well. I was let out last night, taken out of my box, and driven all the way into Brighton! Oooh it's a scary place.

My writer was one of the judges at a short story slam event at the Komedia, put on by Short Fuse.

She had to kick start the event with a reading, and she chose something out of my pages! I was so proud, I can tell you! She read two flashes from a story called Closed Doors.

And people clapped! It was lovely. Then she put me on a table while she listened to twelve stories read out and I think I had some Budweiser dripped on me at one point.

What DOES she think she's doing? Think's she owns me, I expect... huh.

Actually, I quite liked the Budweiser. And the stories, some of them. The winner was really great... she won the Small Wonder Festival Slam too, last autumn. Gosh I was tired when we got home.

Its all very well being born, but all this activity is a bit much so soon.

The Strange Case of the Boxes in the Hallway...

"Watson?"

"Yes, Holmes?"

"Watson, did we find the drinks cabinet?"

"I'm afraid not. That will remain a total..."

"...mystery. Thank you Watson. I have the good lines."

"May I ask what that is on your head, Holmes?"

"It is a bandage, Watson."

"Ah."

"Precisely. Some confounded idiot left a load of boxes in the vestibule."

"Ah"

"And I fell over them. However..."

"...however?"

"I am assured that I will recover fairly quickly and will only require calf's foot jelly in the afternoons for a week. No more."

......


"Watson?"

"Yes?"

"Where are you going?"

"To catch a calf, Holmes."

"A what?"

"A calf. So I can remove it's feet, to make ..."

"...calf's foot jelly. Right. get to it. But before you leave..."


"Yes?"

"Pass me something to read, will you?"

"One of these? I found them on the floor of the vestibule...they seem to have come out of those boxes you fell over."

"Have to do, I suppose. Fetch my monocle, Watson. What is the title? Who's written the thing?"

"Words from a Glass Bubble. By someone calling herself Vanessa Gebbie."

"A bloody woman? Forget it, Watson, bring me The Times.... and Watson?"

"Holmes?"

Hurry up with that calf..."



.

The Strange Case of the Disappearing Books...

"Watson," said Holmes, "bring me my violin. I feel a need for melancholia. And a small glass of claret."

"Ah."

"Ah? A simple request, I believe, Watson. My violin. Nothing to shake Baker Street's foundation, my friend."

"The claret, Holmes. Why not concentrate on the claret?"

"That will not do at all, Watson. Prior to claret, I must have melancholia. I need high, mournful notes, minor keys, the distant wail of a child in distress..."

"No can do, Holmes."

"What sort of futuristic language is that? And do I sense a mystery? has my violin gone missing? Never fear. We shall examine every square inch of the house, leave no corner unsearched..."

"No, not your violin, Holmes. Your books. The entire library... and the drinks cabinet..."

"Not the claret?"

I'm afraid so, and you recall I have no doubt that your pipe rack was on the cabinet..."

"What! Gone, my pipes? Call a bloody detective!"

---------------------

Which is, in a roundabout way, saying that yesterday, my books were delivered to Jen In Great Wilbraham, and somewhere between Great Wilbraham and Ringmer, there is a lorry parked up with the driver deep in a book.

It's THAT good folks!

Numbers creeping up...

We are now at 85 for the launch party...still waiting for lots of replies... and are struggling with the logistics of carting me, husband, wine, books, friends, up to London in a small Golf.

Between the covers!!

Hilarious things happen...

I've had some lovely people pre-ordering the book, giving me a cheque.

One was popped though the door yesterday from a squash partner of the husband. The accompanying note said: 'I am very much looking forward to climbing between your covers...'


hmmm.

A week today?

It's possible that a week today I will have boxes delivered full of my book.

I can't quite... you know... (she said with the ultimate in her articulate toolkit...)

Launch list going well. Son's godmother Jane coming from deepest Wales (my oldest friend, who has never met her godson. Well that will be interesting. He's coming up 30...)

Sue Booth Forbes from Anam Cara Writers' and Artist's Retreat coming on her way back to Ireland from the USA. ( work that out for me someone)

Tania is coming from Israel (yes, I know... not only for this, she is reading at several UK events...)

Fictionbitch and bloke!

Some party. ...

Conversations, conversations

I spoke to an organiser at Cancer Research yesterday, inviting him to the launch party. All royalties from this book are going to them, (I lost my mother 17 years back to cancer, and my friend Jan to whom the book is dedicated died just over a year back, and since then three good friends have gone, all in their early sixties....)

I can't do much, but this I CAN!

Besides which it was Jan who said "Writing is your gift. Use it," or words to that effect. And I am, as much as I can. I often wonder if I'd have given up during the down patches over the last few years if it wasn't for her positive take on things even when she was seriously ill.

So.


Launch part admin going well so far. Fifty three coming... still waiting for lots and lots of RSVPs.

Endorsement by Zadie Smith...

It's been a roller coaster over the last week, reading the Willesden Herald Blog, and Zadie Smith's wake-up call to writers of short fiction to do do better. Her refusal to award the prize this year has caused ripples, and they are still spreading:

The Sunday Times carried almost a whole page: HERE

Yesterday's Daily Telegraph followed suit: HERE

But hey:

If people want to know what she does like, there are two in this book... In Words from a Glass Bubble.

One joint first prizewinner from 2006 (Dodie's Gift), and one runner up from 2007 - the title story that went on to take second at Fish.

Making writing work...

What better way to get the message about the book 'out there' than to get a few acceptances, and put a mention in the bio?

Acceptances this year so far:

Beat the Dust ezine (Neo Punk)
Right Hand Pointing ezine (nice, small lit zine)
Innisfree Poetry Journal (poetry)


Current: GUD print journal (cult cutting edge literary/fantasy/genre)
Birmingham Arts Journal print (nice little print magazine linked to Birmingham Arts organisation, USA)

Forthcoming: Night Train ezine (strong literary outlet)
See You Next Tuesday Anthology of Sex Stories...Better Non Sequitur Press.. (er...sex stories?)

THE COVER SAGA

Although the painting is beautiful, Chris at Salt had worked on something quietly, and he surprised me with this...

and I LOVE it. So here you go. This is the new cover:

COVER STORY CONTINUES

I know the most fabulous artist,Cecil Rice. And I have several of his paintings. And his book.

It suddenly struck me that one of his paintings would make a very strong cover...

watch this space.

He had agreed, and the image is gong through to Salt for them to have a look, to see if it's suitable. Fingers crossed...