George Eliot, Whispers & the Tudors

Pinned up in front of me on the shed wall is a card that my aunt, Gerry gave to me several years ago. On it is a picture like the one here of George Eliot and on it are the rather calming words (for me anyway) "It's never to late to be what you might have been". Whenever I feel thoroughly fed up and miserable that I'm not achieving what I want to with my writing, all I have to do is look up and directly in front of me are those words. They never fail to make me feel much better about myself.

So much for watching what I eat, I simply can't have enough of Whispers and cannot imagine why they will only be in the shops for a limited time. Maybe if they came back for good I could slow down (or maybe that's just me kidding myself!) The woman in the nearby shop told me that once they run out they won't be getting any more. Panic!

I have my stash of Whispers and was all ready to enjoy a cosy night by the fire (once I had added a few hundred or so words to my wip - have to do this before admitting to Lane how I've done this week - not bad actually, phew!) Anyhow, I digress (again) where was I? Oh yes, all ready to settle down in the warm on this horribly stormy night when ds announces that the bus won't be coming in our direction late enough for him and so I will now have to venture forth into the miserable weather and collect him. Honestly, there's always something to interrupt any peace and quiet I may have planned!

Chapters, Connect & Gerry Butler

Chapter five is going pretty well and when I've finished posting & making the supper, I shall press on with it once more. It's nearly friday and I have to admit how many words I've done, so better move myself.

At work they asked if anyone wants to join the Connect league that is being put together for fun. You know how it works, you receive the zillionth email of the morning (I take until at least noon to come alive) and click on either "Yes" or "No" and press "Send". Clever clogs here pressed "Yes", vaguely aware that it would be some fun thing that we were all taking part in. Not at all. Apparently out of 200 staff only 40 agreed to do it and not only is it going to be a proper league thing but the Connect game itself is one where you have to stand up to put the discs into it. I have the attention span of a gnat with a hangover when it comes to games - give me a romantic novel to read or six hours of North and South and I can concentrate with the best of them but games... So, yet again, not stopping to think is no doubt going to cause me abject humiliation whilst entertaining my workmates. Not a clever bunny!

Before I discovered Richard Armitage, my passion was (and I haven't forgotten him) Gerry Butler. I never managed to see '300' when it came out. None of the children would go and see it with me - too embarrassing, damn cheek. So I'm going to buy the dvd for myself and not share it!

Editing, PE kits & being blonde

Usually when I write, I edit as I go along and therefore take months to do a first draft. As I'm attempting to finish this manuscript by Christmas - scarily soon - I don't have the time to do that and feel like I'm flying by the seat of my pants. Onwards & upwards though. I have to keep going and I must admit that I'm thoroughly enjoying myself.

Dd announced - on the way to school - that she needs her PE kit for tomorrow. Not a problem you may think but after work I had the hairdressers to go to - yes, I'm blonde once again - and then by the time the washing machine has done its cycle and then the dryer, I would then have to take it in the car to her father's house (where she stays on a Wednesday night). So, for once, I said an emphatic, "No, I'm not doing it." The kit is in the washing machine as I type but I shall refrain from delivering it to her as I normally would. Maybe next time she'll be more organized...then again, maybe not.

Must dash, shed beckons.

Writing Incentives & Looking Glam

This summer I attended an informative lecture by Alison Baverstock who told us about her writing space and discussed some of the objects that she surrounds herself with. For example a picture that may inspire you, a lovely cup to drink out of, that sort of thing.

I have a favoured mug with red chilli peppers (not the band, the veg). It's not at all pretty or delicate but I love it. In the photo, showing part of the shelf by the window in the shed, you can see a basket holding shells collected from the beaches by various children, a fossil (apart from the one sitting in the chair writing), the obligatory Midget Gems, lavender picked from the garden in a coloured glass wasp catcher (there's also a red and blue one further along) and a flag (it's called something else (is it an ensign?) but dh isn't here to remind me what it is.

Above the shelf hang coloured chinese lanterns and below is another shelf holding reference books, novels etc. On the opposite wall I have photos of family members/the dog etc and paintings by the children, a few crystals and various other bits and pieces that inspire me. It all helps create a very 'me' atmosphere in there.

I had a moment of horror earlier when I realized that next Friday (7th) is my company's Christmas Party. This doesn't leave me with the necessary time to lose the stone and a half that I had intended! After a brief panic and rather a lot of angst I have decided to go the Gok Wan way (tonight Ch4 8pm) be happy with the curves that I possess and enjoy myself anyway.

Solitary Poppy, Midget Gems & WIP

Look what I found yesterday in the garden, a beautiful solitary poppy. I can't believe that there is still one left this late in the year, mind you we did have a late summer I suppose. Anyhow I had to take a photo of it. Sorry about the photography, obviously not a skill I possess.

After the usual Sunday morning doing the dreaded ironing, which actually didn't take that long, but seemed to take forever. I enjoyed an exhiliarating walk on St Ouen's beach with dh, dd and Grumpy. We strolled along watching the surfers and enjoying the fresh air as he raced back and forth attacking the odd bit of seaweed.

Then it was back to the shed and onwards with the wip. I ate so many Midget Gems that I felt rather sick but at least I managed to push on with the novel and naturally had no problem polishing off a tasty roast chicken supper prepared by dh who is only too grateful to have the house to himself whilst I'm in the shed.

The company I work for moved into a new building today. There are now 200 hundred staff over four floors whereas before we were in four buildings. It was all very strange, however, at each desk was a mug with our names on. Quite a thoughtful touch I thought and immediately found the kitchen and filled mine with hot chocolate!

Sir Guy of Gisbourne & Plotting Novels

Yes - he survived his bath. I just about did too.

What is wrong with Lady Marion? She has this perfection of maleness, all 6ft 2ins of him head to toe in leather and she kisses him (quick fantasy of self in her place...) then she turns round and tells the poor adoring soul that she's made a mistake and races back off to that damp wood with it's distinct lack of facilities. She then dresses (for want of a better word) in the worst pair of trousers that I personally have ever seen and I've had a few horrors sitting in my wardrobe I can tell you. Sorry, but I've been very restrained in the Richard Armitage devotion stakes for the last couple of weeks. I needed a fix.

I'm working on Reading Paige in between sending ds off to buy various items for a school camping trip in the next couple of weeks. I know, who the hell would want to go camping for three days in December. It is some sort of survival thing in a forest. What is it with forests?

My wip is coming along - was going to say "swimmingly" - but I'm confusing myself plot-wise and need to sit down and try and figure this out a bit. I've typed out a Synopsis, which I usually do and the story is taking off in different directions to what I had originally thought. Again, this is the usual state of affairs, but I've reached a bit of a wall, hence taking a break to watch Robin Hood and now blogging for a bit. I shall go back now and work through it.

Word counts, wrestling & creased jeans

Well, I'm nearly blind but have managed to raise that pathetic word count from 6,000 to 11,213. Please excuse me posting the exact number of words, but each of them matter a great deal to me. The more the merrier, that's what I say. I'm only grateful that it's the weekend tomorrow and so the only computer screen I will have to look at is the one on my laptop and not the one at work.

Naturally, this doesn't mean that I can recline in front of the television just yet. I still have to wrestle Grumpy into the bath. I've been meaning to do this for a few days but have used first the cold as an excuse, then dropping off and picking up children, but now that dh has seen fit to feed him spagetti bolognaise, he is now sporting a not too fetching orange beard (the dog that is, dh doesn't have a beard) and so I have no option but to take my life in my hands and bath him. I'm sure this was a cunning plan devised by dh and one that has worked!

Can anyone enlighten me as to how an academically bright chap can manage to study for five 'A' levels, but not be able to work out how to pick up a pair of jeans from the bedroom floor once he has stepped out of them? Drives me crazy.

Oh well, enough of the delay tactics. It's off to the bathroom I go, with a distinctly reluctant schnauzer and several large towels to dry both of us off afterwards.