What Would Tilda Do?

I like to think I left you all on a cliffhanger last week. Where has she been? What will she have been doing? What excitements have the past week delivered? I can defo hear you thinking this. Or is that just, who are you and why are you eating all that cheese?

As I said last Monday, this week I was going on my holidays. Mostly this was because I wanted a break but it was also an opportunity to scout out locations for Tilda's next adventure. If you haven't read Carry the Beautiful yet, then firstly I am slack-jawed at your bizarre life choices, but secondly, I am going to avoid giving away any major spoilers. So. Any sequel can go in a wide variety of directions, but one thing is clear - Tilda has a specific personality. She likes routine and order. She has lived a life of quiet conformity, not outwardly questioning much but inwardly thinking a lot. Her next chapter (or collection of chapters) won't necessarily focus on her entirely, but she will still be about. And this week I decided where that 'about' will be. So folks, the past few days I have spent in...are you ready?...Aberystwyth!

Aberystwyth

Now, you might be thinking, but Aberystwyth is just a town. It is like Warrington or Stockport or Salford? There's nothing special that defines it. No? Ya reckon? Only a bloody massive bay running through the length of it! Honestly, Aberystwyth is the loveliest place. As someone who dreamt of being by a coastal view for an entire marriage, Tilda would so love being there.

My 'research' (and I use the term loosely) has mostly taken the form of wandering around and taking photos. I checked out a couple of specific locations I might name, and took notice of signs that gave me info about the place. (No booze on the prom, for example.) I also invented a new holiday game. Yeah, no mess! I categorised every activity or pastime in which I partook, between 'Something Tilda Would Do' and 'Something Tilda Would Not Do'. This provided me with MUCH FUN. So much so that I share my categorised activities below. You are SO welcome.

TILDA WOULD...

...TAKE A BOOK TO A COFFEE SHOP ON A FREE AFTERNOON.

TILDA WOULD NOT...

...TAKE A BOOK TO A BAR ON A FREE AFTERNOON AND DO SOME DAYTIME BOOZING.

TILDA WOULD...

...WALK ON THE WELSH COASTAL PATHWAY.

TILDA WOULD NOT...

...GET SIDETRACKED TAKING SELFIES AND IGNORE THE VIEW.

TILDA WOULD...

...TRAVEL ON A CLIFF RAILWAY.

TILDA WOULD NOT...

...REWARD HERSELF WITH A MOFO OF AN ICE CREAM WHEN SHE GOT TO THE TOP. FRIVOLOUS.

TILDA WOULD...

...EAT TAPAS WITH A GLASS OF WINE FOR HER EVENING MEAL - ONCE IN A WHILE, OR ON A SPECIAL OCCASION, ANYWAY.

TILDA WOULD NOT...

...EAT CHIPPY CHIPS FOR LUNCH, JUST BECAUSE. ARE YOU MAD?

TILDA WOULD...

...SIT AND WATCH THE SUN SET AS OFTEN AS SHE COULD.

TILDA WOULD NOT...

...FINISH WATCHING THE SUN SET AND THEN GO TO THE LATE NIGHT TESCO AND BUY A BAG OF HOBNOB NIBBLES TO EAT IN ONE GO ON THE WALK BACK.

So there we are. The few days away provided me with fresh air and sea breezes, plus the space to think about what can happen for Tilda and chums next. I also drank my body weight in alcohol so that was good. It's back to the normal routine now, without a sea view, mid-week wine, or a Hobnob Nibble in sight. Booo to all of that.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Aaaaand relaaaaaxxx

Holidays Are Coming, Holidays Are Coming...

Hey, how is everyone? All tippety top? That's marvellous. I'm light of heart and free as a bird right now. Why's that, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Today I am going on holiday.

I say holiday because it is in lots of ways, but it is also a research jaunt. Yes! I'm doing research. It is definitely NOT a made up writer-reason to have a few days away by the seaside on my own, jibbing off real life for a bit. Not all all, no sirree. It's totally legit.

Fizzy wine and a jumper. It's all you need.

The book I'm planning out at the moment will be set in a coastal town. If you've read Carry the Beautiful you'll know Tilda, our hero, likes the coast. She's all about the outdoors and the hills and the valleys. I'm not so much about any of those things but I do like a good beach. Not a sunbathing, sweaty, slapping-on-the-factor-50 type of beach. No, I prefer the type where you walk along in the howling wind wearing a jumper before getting chips on the prom. That's where me and Tilda converge. I don't think she's got much time for the Algarve either but a blowy beach is right up her street.

So I'm jetting (driving) off and getting away from it all, to get a handle on the type of location the next instalment can be set. In all honesty, as research goes it will be brief. I will take some photos, walk around a bit and reacquaint myself with a Welsh seaside town I already know quite well. Then half an hour later, when the research is over, I will be chilling the frig out. It is likely I will spend significantly more time doing that if I'm truthful.

So, now on to the exciting bits. Let me share my holiday reading.

First of all, Friend Request stood out as soon as I saw it. This is because my sister had the very same idea for a book many years ago. Sadly she didn't get any further than that so here is Laura Marshall's actual finished book. Confession: I started this yesterday. Reading holiday books before a holiday starts isn't really on. But still, that's what's happened. Soz. So far it is easy to get into, grippy and intriguing. I'm looking forward to getting back to it.

Next up is Edward Docx's Let Go My Hand. Disclaimer: I am distantly related to Ed Docx. He wouldn't know me if he fell over me but I've read most of his books and much of his journalism to date. (This long read is well worth a look, although the text is firmly in NSFW territory.) The reviews of Let Go My Hand have been consistently decent so I can't wait to get stuck in.

Lastly is The Power by Naomi Alderman. It was displayed with the label 'If you liked The Handmaid's Tale you'll like this'. This concerns me. I LOVED The Handmaid's Tale when I read it twenty years ago. It felt like one of those crazy 'imagine if the world was like this' novels that can be scary or amusing or thrilling. Now it feels that the world really is like that and it depresses me no end. I've avoided Handmaid style novels and the recent TV series because it's all so 2017. The difference with The Power is that the novel depicts a horrifically oppressive society against men. Honestly, I know this is still bad, but if I can picture the controlling male shocker currently on the nightly news having his fictional rights curbed in a book, it might just make me feel less fed up at the state of everything.

Blimey, that got heavy quickly. And today is a flippety gibbet, floaty schmloaty kind of day. It's holiday time! I'll feedback on the research when I'm back next week. For now, have a lovely week, folks. I know I fully intend to.

Bring on Bogo Pogos and Tina Sparkle...

I am not a fan of reality TV. 

Apart from a couple of specific exceptions (more of those in a minute) I avoid all examples of the genre. People judging other people just doesn't do it for me. Not one bit. And I completely despise the type of show that puts together a montage of the worst contestants/auditonees/humans for the baying public's amusement. (You all know who I mean, yeah?) Even the beloved and innocuous Great British Bake Off bugged me. Mel and Sue were brilliant and lovely hosts, but ultimately someone had made a cake. It was a cake that someone had made. There is no down side to a cake. Stop finding a downside, Hollywood, and be grateful. Eat it, say thank you and shut up.

I'm not a fan of early
evening blood sports.

I said I had exceptions. A couple of years ago I watched a series of The Voice. This was purely because Boy George was announced as a judge. Despite my dislike of the format, I ended up getting sucked in and eventually, irrespective of Boy George, I actively looked forward to each episode and the progress of the contestants. No one was humiliated, criticism was constructive and it didn't feel like it was tapping into the baser aspects of human nature by being gladitorial rather than supportive. It was nice. When the next (Boy George-less) series started, however, I was happy to leave it be, having done my time. 

The other reality show I like (no, I LOVE) is RuPaul's Drag Race. Now more or less mainstream, it has elevated the art of drag to a much wider audience than before. Whether that is a good thing or not, depends on your point of view. (There has been some criticism that drag is, and should continue to be a subversive attack on the establishment and therefore can never be mainstream. Alternatively, it's been praised for it's up front and centre LGBTQ presence in a country where the current political situation reminds us that hard-fought rights cannot be taken for granted.) Regardless of the debate, I am IN. Drag queens fiercely competing for the prize, whilst having each other's backs. Lipsyncing, runway presentations and performance art. Skills such as make up artistry, costume design, stand up comedy and dance. It combines trashy TV with a profound understanding of the need for solidarity in the face of adversity. Sigh. It's totes amazeballs and ev.

But still, why go on about all this, I hear you ask? What has triggered a reality show blog post this very day? Well, here's the thing. In January, I made a new year's resolution. I promised myself that I would try to broaden my horizons. I decided that the year of our Lord two thousand and seventeen, would be the first year that I watched...Strictly!

I am assuming it will be exactly
like Strictly Ballroom every week. 

I know. I know. It's so not me. Saturday night judgey-ness and a results show on a Sunday too? Far too much commitment surely? But here's the thing. My Saturday night social life schedule is greatly reduced these days due to old age, so I'm usually in the house near a TV. And in the past, as I've been watching Beverly Hills Cop for the millionth time, I have seen my Twitter feed being stuffed full of joyous appreciation, witty commentaries and die hard passion regarding the dancing people that the rest of the world has been watching. I've had no idea who most of them are or what they are doing and yet Twitter's been having a weekly party because of it. And it's always so positive! Ed Balls brought joy to the world with his Gangnam Style in so many more ways than he managed when he had actual power in Government. At least that's the way it seemed from the gaspy adoration from my timeline. No one laughed at him, but laughed with him. He was living life large and people were loving him for it. Yet I missed it all. I wasn't there. I was probably re-watching something on Netflix. So enough is enough. The time has come and I am ready to join in.

Craig (?) approves of my TV plans

At the time of writing, there has been a contestant reveal each day. I have taken a smidge more interest this year (what with it being my first time and all) but other than a quick glance, I've been mostly in the dark about who they are. Until Friday. On Friday it was revealed that Richard Coles is contestant number 5! This has upped my excitement levels massively. I am a long time fan of Richard Coles. The fact that he is an Anglican priest AND he used to be in the Communards already blows my mind. Then there are his talking head appearances on the most interesting of documentaries. He contributed to How to be Bohemian with Victoria Coren Mitchell in 2015, a sumptuous feast of a series to devour, and then more recently, he appeared on Queer as Art for the BBC season of programmes marking the partial decriminalisation of homosexuality. Basically he rocks and I cannot wait to see what he does on Strictly. 

My one stipulation of my new Autumn/Winter Saturday night viewing, is that it has to be kind. I have heard on the grapevine that Len (?) has left and there is a new judge this year. I need them to be nice and encouraging not cruel and cutting. I need the editors to show the progress and effort put in, not the mistakes and humiliations for an attempt at cheap comedy. And I need Twitter to keep up the party atmosphere every Saturday so I feel like this huge life change has been worth it. Is that all right with everyone? Thanks in advance.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Let's Just Write First Drafts Forever...

Writing a book is easy! Except when it's not. OK, there's loads of hard bits, but the first draft - the time when you can type any old nonsense because you know it will all get taken out at a later, unimaginable future time - that's the easiest bit of all.

Exactly what I look
like at the moment

I'm currently in the middle of the first draft of book two, and what a jolly old time of it I'm having. I sit in my usual Costa place (back wall, soft leather bench seat, individual table) and crack on with churning out the words. They come reasonably easily - not least because at this stage I simply don't care how terrible it all is. With no quality control, getting words on a page is the sole aim. 

Contemplating the ease
of a first draft in Costa.

If this were the sum total of all that was needed I would be laughing. I could write first drafts of all kind of things. I could branch out into non-fiction! Textbooks on subjects about which I haven't the foggiest could be my bag. First drafts are great. 

What follows a first draft is a whole other ball game. Second, third and eventually fiftieth drafts can be wearing. Forcing your eyes to begin the umpteenth read through, or knowing there's something wrong around Chapter 15 but you can't figure out what, are definitely the non-fun parts of the process. Then allowing people to read it for the first time is perhaps the scariest feeling ever. And when you hear something positive from the carefully selected people you've asked, the relief lasts only seconds. The immediate thought is then, 'But they would say that because they know me and are being nice.' This results in never fully knowing if what you're putting out into the world is any good. Self-doubt hinders everything.

Waiting for feedback is intense!

But even all that isn't the worst part. The worst part is most definitely the marketing. This is where I am up to with book one. Carry the Beautiful has been out for four months. So far everyone who knows me that is likely to buy it, has done. My weekly Facebook and Twitter links to the Amazon page have reached everyone they are going to reach. So I need a game plan. The trouble is, I haven't really got one.

I've gone down a self-publishing route - Ingram Spark - that means in theory, I can walk into any bookshop, convince them my book should be stocked, and they have the means to order it through their bookselling channels. If I'd gone with other Print on Demand companies, that wouldn't necessarily be the case. Except the thing is, I have to convince people in bookshops to stock it. I have to pitch. I have to sell. This is something I absolutely don't want to do. It's not that I don't think it's good enough. I think the complete opposite to be honest. It's a cracker! A curl-up-on-the-sofa-can't-put-it-down-stay-up-all-night-page-turner. Obviously I'm biased but even so. It's gripping and funny and well-written (hell yeah!) and moving. But I'd so much rather the world worked that out for itself instead of me having to shout about it. It's just the way I prefer things.

Look how well my
baby suits sitting on
a bookshelf.

I am working on this though. If you follow me on Twitter, or like the Carry the Beautiful Facebook page you'll have noticed I post screen shots of good reviews. I know, the brass neck of me! It's not who I am at all. But retweeting praise is the first step to becoming the cocky self-promoting, bookselling machine that I need to be. Perhaps at some point I will go on an all-dayer round town, and when I'm tipsy enough not to care, go and have a natter with the poor sod on the till in Waterstones. That could be one way of progressing. Maybe? Hmmm, maybe I'll give that one a swerve. In the meantime however, I'll keep going with the weekly tweets and Facebook posts, and screen shot the reviews. Let's take this slowly, everyone.

Have a lovely week, folks.