Once again, my blogging has taken a back seat. Whilst I accept this causes you no real pain, you are not bereft of my words, you do not mourn my silence, I do also acknowledge that it’s only with consistency can we make our dreams come true. So, here I am.
Christmas happened. Didn’t it. Didn’t it!?
Before it, I hung up my typewriter (I don’t have one) and my writers shawl (I don’t have one) and the pen that I hold in my hand because my typing slows down without it (that bit’s true), to indulge in much fine wine and good food… or to indulge in much cheap wine and turkey at least. I ‘d finished the first draft of my book, cause for celebration. I knew it was ropey, but I was cool with that. It was a lot of words of ropey so at least, in terms of quantity, I knew I could do it. I would put to one side the fact that come January I would have to try and make those words good, like.
I went to London, didn’t see the Queen but did see Midnight’s Pumpkin at Battersea Arts Centre, along with some friends and old colleagues. A good dance, a few drinks and a dirty midnight KFC later, my head hit the pillow safe in the knowledge I didn’t have to get up early. No London meetings, no traipsing across the City to catch up with business. Being out of work has its benefits, that’s true. Cut to me… and the rest of my ex-colleagues… at 4am, in the middle of the street, in Battersea, in our pyjama’s due to a faulty fire alarm. So that was nice.
Anyway, I got back. Did lots of Christmas sorting, planning, wrapping, drinking (a theme), and indulged in many movie afternoons on the sofa with the kids, watching the rain lash down against the window. All in all, December was lush.
So here we are, January almost over and my New Year started well. A new column in Octopus Magazine, which was lovely to write till I realised that the playground would soon be awash with people who’d read it, and suddenly the pressure to perform kicked in, which bodes well if I were ever to be published. Which leads me to my next. I’ve started the re-write, which is as tortuous as I imagined it would be, but as exciting too. It’s starting to drop in to place, the wholes are beginning to fill and the sense that even if it is never published properly, I will finish it and be proud. And of course, by properly I do mean in print – because that’s all we ever really want isn’t it.
So with that in mind, along with a post on Novelicious today about The Elevator Pitch, I wrote blurb.
And in light of my sister in law’s suggestion that I should start sharing, I thought I would do so with this. I hope to share the beginnings of the book with some trusted allies soon, but for now – here is a first draft of a blurb:
What one person says, is not always what the other will hear.
What one person thinks, is not always what they actually say…
…and second guessing is where the real trouble lies.
Mark is engaged to a girl on the other side of the world. Five years together, she is the love of his life and yet he sets off to end their relationship, because that’s what she wants. Sarah is a happily married mother of two, off on a business trip. Two whole days away from her life, not that she thinks she needs them. Or so, at least she says.
Paths cross, words are spoken, decisions are made. Or not made. Or made and then regretted.
This is a story of will they, won’t they? Can they, should they?
A story about what happens when the talking stops
No title for now, I’m still ruminating that one. And the above is probably massively naive and I should probably be fairly embarrassed by its clichéd-ness, if that is such a word, and if it isn’t such a word then it should be. But still. Onwards. All feedback welcome… I think.
Have just read this back. Its a bit earnest isn’t it. A bit dry. Perhaps I should lighten the mood, keep you engaged, draw you back in ready for my next. How to do that? What to say…
Sorry. Its the best I could do. 😉