bluster

rain and more rain and my veggie patch is the saddest ever. I am reviewing the novel on the other side. I never knew grammar so intimately before. Grammar currently lives on my shoulder wearing an orange jacket and sipping a cup of tea. We are becoming shifty friends.

I sent a good story in for the Wasafiri competition. It is a story that for me signifies a big release in personal terms, although the subject matter is all indirect. I love the heavy lightness in play in the work, although I haven't read it back lately.

My story 'Nathalie' is coming out in The View from Here in August. Do read!

pushers

I've been pushing it. Waiting for replies about stories I've sent out. Three months ago. At four can I write a weakly worded query the colour of thin tea?

I just want some good news dammit, something to brag about. For the novel editing, publicizing, cover job is starting to weigh in - I am losing even more sleep through the powerhouse nights!

Whoever remembers snow, and legging it dressed like a sherpa up the stairs?

all systems go

For some reason the heat, the trips to the dentist, the summer visitors, the night time romancing under the walnut tree - not to mention the woven green Costume National chunky heels purchased in Milano in the sales - have wired my brain in the most alarming way. Shouldn't I be drowsy, half-dumb, moaning with the heat? Instead I am fired up, but really. Why and why? My novel across the way has been accepted for publication. And while this means more copious editing and risk, a slinky breeze has crept in through the window. It is the breeze of relief.

Oh yes. Better than the night time cool and the woven sandals. Some might even say the romance in the night. Writing satisfaction comes so rarely but when it pours in it is almighty, is it not?

Have just finished another short story for the collection. It feels good. I'm putting it in the Wasafiri competition if I can work out how to use Paypal or borrow a fiver.