But What Can an Ice-Cream Taster Do?...

Isn't it lovely how nice people are being? National clapping en masse, neighbourhood WhatsApp groups all over the show, sporty types streaming PE content to children everywhere. Even Candy Crush have been giving away free lives, willy nilly. Proper heartwarming, it is.

I'm sure it's not intentional, 
but Snow White looks like she's 
taking the piss here.

But living with a frontline NHS member of staff tends to put my own worth into perspective*. Even though I KNOW I'm marvellous, the question has to be asked, 'Does the world REALLY need me to spend an entire day tweaking a paragraph to make it flow better? DOES IT?' 

Well, you know what, at some point the answer will be a resounding, 'YES, IT DOES'. Frivolous, silly, and escapist fun will be back in our lives before long. It might even be keeping some of us going while we're in lockdown. But while creative endeavour has its well-established place in society, I'm happy to accept it's not important with a capital I. Not really. Pharmacists, nurses, doctors and all varieties of NHS workers are definitely worthy of their collective clap, no arguments there. On top of that, there's a fairly large amount of perspective being drawn about a host of other roles too. Cleaners, carers, dispensers, drivers, supermarket staff, refuse collectors, and many many more, are now considered vitally important roles that allow society to tick over in the face of threat. We should have known that already, but it's clear as anything now. 

So what can I do? Well, at the moment I appear to be - touch wood, hello Mr Magpie, stand back as I throw salt over my shoulder etc etc  - the only Bond within a sixty-mile radius not having to isolate for fourteen days. So I can still get groceries and medication to those that can't. But that's not all. Oh no. I can also give you the gift of free books! Yes, there's no point having a couple of novels going spare, if you can't share them freely with the world when there's a global pandemic, is there? That's just basic. 

But there's a snag. Those pesky beggars at Amazon won't let me make my ebooks any cheaper than £0.99p. I vaguely remember having to ensure any price I set ended with .99 so they were standardised. So, if you want the ebook of either Carry the Beautiful, or Leeza McAuliffe Has Something To Say then it's as cheap as it can be via the links above.

Leeza McAuliffe Has
Something To Say FREE
Child-friendly - puberty gets
 mentioned, as does a bit of Y6 SRE. 
I'd say around the 8+age range.

But, I can do more! If you want to get your hands on either book for absolutely-definitely-for sure free, I can offer you the PDF docs of both novels. There is very little difference between those and the ebooks, anyway. Click the link to whichever you fancy, (below the cover picture) and they should be there for you. And you don't need an eReader or Kindle App to access them. Just the old 'tint. They might pass the time for a day or so. Alternatively, they might make you realise that if this is the sort of thing that passes for literature, you could do much better yourself. Rise to the challenge and use the lockdown to get that novel out of your system! Go on, have a go, there is literally nothing to lose.

Carry the Beautiful FREE
Adult fiction. Tilda starts to
wonder about her past?
She pulls a thread that
won't stop unravelling. 
How will it all turn out?

If you want something even more brilliant and interesting to read than my own output (What? Yeah, it's hard to believe, but it's true) here is the link to the screenplay of Knives Out (and some others by Rian Johnson) that I read recently. Rian Johnson released it to help those in lockdown and I read it and it passed a very happy afternoon. Seeing the film is infinitely better, but reading the script afterwards always makes me view things much more deeply. Have a look, if you are so inclined.

So there we go. Free books, links to a cracking script, and heartfelt appreciation for all the people making sure we can function as much as possible. Remember, when all else fails, and books and scripts aren't doing it for us, there's always Candy Crush. Get popping those candies and distract yourself mindlessly for a bit longer.

Have a lovely week, folks.


*This sketch from Mitchell and Webb nails it perfectly and makes me laugh too. It also explains the title of this post.

Let's Cut to the Chase...

No need for preamble, we know where we are. While the Government take measures for our physical safety, it's on us to safeguard our mental health the best we can. Here are some ideas. Not tips - they won't all be appropriate or effective for everyone - but ideas. Take them, adapt them, ignore them. No worries. 

1. Keep the endorphins pumping. Feeling rubbish can sometimes be eased with a spot of exercise and this is my suggested spot. Here's a link for a five minute Bollywood workout. Five minutes, indoors, with cheery music. I've done it every time I've had to step away from social media and it's done my head wonders. (And my fitness levels.*)

2. Step away from social media. My Twitter feed, whilst lively and often informative, makes my head ache. The family WhatsApp group can be the same at the moment. I'm limiting what I read. I'm trying to stop commenting on anything other than nice things, and I'm forcing myself to do other stuff instead. Writing, when I can. Bollywood workouts, of course. Plus a bunch of other distractions. More of them below.

A shared cake for the two
birthdays of the household
 this week. Cream cheese
topping to follow.

3. Bake a cake. Supermarket shelves are patchy and there are restrictions on popular items. Ingredients, however, tend to be available, especially for the more obscure or interesting recipes. Smaller shops and online providers are stepping up and then there's always the random stuff you've got left from that one time you made that birthday cake, remember? So, flour, butter, and sugar? That's a tray of biscuits right there. Or flour, yeast, and not much else? That's all that goes into a basic loaf. When your head's gone, think how therapeutic all that kneeding and pounding will be. Then if you're up for something a little more adventurous, how about this white chocolate tea bread? In fact, Jack Monroe's entire website is a delight - full of interesting food made from simple ingredients. There's bound to be a recipe that uses whatever tins you've ended up with. It's nourishing, and keeps your hands and mind busy, all at once.

Fresh air, a change of scenery,
lots of endorphins, and definitely
 two metres away from anyone.

4. Change your environment. Walks are good if you're allowed out and you keep your social distance. More of those endorphins along with the natural light has to be a positive thing. But if you're inside all day, it's time to be creative. Work from one room in the day and move to another for the evening. Change the lighting so it feels different. I'm switching on my fairy lights every night now. (A fairy light's for life, not just for Christmas!) because it makes me happy. Ditto candles. I only usually light them when people come round, but now it's a dusk ritual.

5. Music Therapy. It took a few days for me to work this out. I'd wake up, feel fine, read the news, and my head would immediately ache. So now, I wake up, feel fine, and play Walking on Sunshine as I make my first cup of tea. When that gets tired, I've got a list of instant mood-lifting bangers in my back pocket. Flashdance, I'm Your Man, The Story of the Blues Pt 1. Songs that put a momentary spring in my step and make me feel braced for anything. When my birthday hits tomorrow, I'll be bringing in the big guns - Loreen's Euphoria, of course.

I bought one pair of shoes, that I
hated, and that I eventually sold on
eBay after they sat in my wardrobe
 for years. But even Gucci are
reaching out and checking in on me.

6. Communicate with others. This is a tricky one. In normal life, I tend not to bother, day in day out. I'm used to being around people at a distance but not necessarily chatting with them, so communicating is new. But it's interesting how the situation has forced a few changes. I've sent more messages and emails to people I won't be seeing, than I have for years. I've chatted to my most local family member a lot more than normal, as we work out the logistics of family stuff. I even had my first phone conversation last week! I know! Like it's 2003. Times change when they need to, and here we are. 

Book recommendations are
cheering me up. I've
saved this screen shot
so I can look these books up,
 when I need a new distraction.

7. Delay some gratification. Last week I talked about stockpiling quality television. I've since downloaded the first episode of Last Tango in Halifax. It's there in my planner, waiting for me to dive in. The anticipation of that is almost as thrilling as the eventual viewing will be. Knowing it's there is giving me something to look forward to, no matter when it ends up taking place. Likewise, last Saturday, Knives Out became available to buy. I realised there's a bunch of quality films that'll be released over the next couple of months, that I saw in the cinema at the start of the year. So I can eagerly anticipate the release of Jojo Rabbit, Little Women, and It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood. And then there are all the classic Eurovisions I'm going to revisit. (My brother was talking in similar terms about old Everton matches.) Looking forward to viewing plans, for an unspecified future date, raises my mood. Anticipation. It's as potent as actual enjoyment, and lasts longer. 

My brother's standard Saturday
cafe breakfast, in new takeaway format.

8. Be helpful. There are a million ways to help others that can make you feel proactive rather than passive. Offering to get someone's shopping. Spreading the word about an online service that a local business is offering. Ringing or emailing someone you know will be glad of the contact. It doesn't need to be massive. There's also satisfaction to be found in making a note of the companies that are treating their employees well. I've already made a few decisions about where my money will be going after all this blows over, and conversely, where it won't. 

9. Do your best. Everyone is interpreting the news messages the best way they can, whilst taking in the grim realisation of the financial implications. Everyone is making tough decisions based on a balance of their responsibilities and their own health needs. Sometimes it sounds like it's fine to go to the shops as long as you keep your two metres distance. Other times it sounds like you'll hospitalise someone if you look at them through your window. Stick to the official news sources, check them once a day, and then move on to something else. Cakes, TV, Bollywood workouts, whatever. 

My kitchen wall. Positive activities
blu tacked on at eye level. I see them
every time I get a cup of tea.

Like I say, some of these ideas won't work for everyone. We've all got different guidelines to follow, depending on our own and our family's health. Some of these ideas won't be appropriate for some. But some might be useful. Some might help. Keeping a routine, keeping busy, and keeping away as much negativity as possible will help towards easing some of the stress. If my head feels like I've got a never-ending OFSTED now, it's only going to get worse if I don't plan how I can support myself over the forthcoming weeks. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

*My aim is to be able to complete it in full, without getting out of breath, by the time normal business resumes. Then I might move on to something in the 6 minute category. The fact I am advocating exercise shows we are in uncharted water.

It'll Take More Than Loo Roll...

Booooo to panic-buying. Can we all have a minute? Whenever there’s a bit of snow forecast, or before Christmas week when the shops are shut for a day, people go mad. Remember the petrol crisis in 2000? The pumps were drained, not because of the protest, but because upon hearing about it, people drove en masse to fill up. If everyone calmed it for a sec, there may well be enough for all. Now, supermarket aisles are decimated and you can only get a sliced loaf in exchange for a lung. Coronavirus UK. Literal scenes.

This made me chuckle.
God love you, Kathy Burke.

But what do I know? I’m lucky. I take no essential medication and I've got a drawer full of OTC basics. I bulk-buy my loo roll every ten weeks online, and it’s not long since the last delivery. I won’t be scrapping in the Asda for half a roll of Cushelle, not this week, anyway. Food wise, I’ve no reason to panic, either. Over the years, I’ve inadvertently cultivated a shelf of half-full pasta bags and a mishmash of rice. As long as I’ve no problem mixing shapes, and combining different grains, it’ll be fine. Then there are the remnants of my No Deal Brexit Drawer. (Don’t worry. It’ll be gradually restocked if no extension's agreed in the Summer. I’m not daft.) I’ve mostly got tinned tomatoes, butter beans and spices left. In the event of getting symptoms and self-isolating, or experiencing a national lockdown, my meals would be uninspiring but I’d manage. There are a million worse positions in which to be.

Chickpeas, mustard, and Philadelphia. 
It looks shocking, but it's a meal. 
(The chip in the bowl does
 nothing to lift the bleakness.)

For me, the bigger panic of a lockdown comes from not being able to leave the house. Despite isolated-working as standard, I need to stretch my legs and see daylight every so often. Be it Tesco, Costa, or a walk in the park, I get antsy if I don’t break up the indoors with a burst of outside every couple of days. It’s with this in mind that I’ve started to stockpile something more important than basic groceries. I’m stockpiling ideas. Yeah, I know. I sound like I’m stoned but it’s true. I can’t be caught short with no plan in place. If it’s suddenly announced that the schools are shutting and everything's closed, I’ve got a list of strategies to make it work. To keep me sane. To delay the claustrophobia and provide some mental respite. Wanna hear them? Oh good. That’s a relief.

Plenty of old favourites
to re-read here.

   1.  This is home-working 101 but important to remember. I can’t sit in the same room all day. I need to shower at some point. And the TV can’t go on until 6pm. I’m used to this a few days a week. I just need to be consistent.
   
2.  If all the funtime venues are shut, there’s a gap to fill. Italy are kindly providing their citizens with free Pornhub, so that’s sorted. But with no cinema, no going to be pub, and no communal hobbies, what to do with all the spare time? The TV can’t do all the heavy lifting so it’s time to read some books. I'll re-read old favourites, I’ll make a dent in my TBR pile, and then download new stuff willy-nilly. I recently read Nick Hornby's Juliet, Naked, which reminded me how much I love Nick Hornby books. Revisiting his back catalogue would be a very happy way to lose myself in the long evenings of not much else.

   3.  Most nights I’m happy to watch repeats of Murder She Wrote as I eat my tea. Or Father Browns, Poirots, and Murdoch Mysteries. Whatever’s on the Alibi channel; I’m not that discerning. But these aren’t normal times. The TV can’t be background noise like a bog standard evening. Not when it’s the only portal to the outside world. In the event of a quarantine, I’ve already decided. I’m going to re-watch Last Tango in Halifax. Every single episode. It’s a masterclass in writing, acting, and directing, and the latest series has been a treat. If I’m hauled up inside with boring food and cancelled plans, then I’m bringing out the big guns. It's Last Tango for me. Alternative quality TV is also available.*

Just a cheeky 9.5%er left
over from Christmas.
I've got a few random
 bottles like that, that
would make an empty
evening fly by.

  4.  Wine. Wine and beer. Wine, beer, and gin. I’ve got a drink stash left from Christmas so my Friday and Saturday evening’s alcohol intake can carry on for the foreseeable future. But there's more to life than booze. No, really. The other luxuries and vices that pepper my week need to be planned for. Chocolate? Face packs? Cigs? I don’t smoke, so that’s covered. But my dry skin would hate to run out of moisturiser, spoilt cow that it is. And even though I don’t usually keep chocolate in the house, it feels remiss to assume I won’t get a sudden craving mid-quarantine. I need to think of the lovely things as well as the basics. I do understand people’s urge to ensure their household supply of toilet roll is robust. I get it. But if ALL you’ve focused on are literal basics, then it’s going to be a long, hard road ahead. A clean-bottomed one, but still. We need to remember the nice things too.

Abso-frigging-lutely.
Perspective and empathy are always handy.

Maybe I’m overthinking. It’s highly possible. But the need to be in control is an embedded part of my personality. I’m not happy when decisions are made for me. So if we’re told to shut our doors and ride it out, at least I’ve given it some thought. If I get a cough or a temperature, I can self-isolate in the knowledge I'm mentally prepared. But for now, things are positive. I'm in good health and don't think I’ve had contact with any coughing, face-touchers. I am still going about my business whilst maintaining a clear buffer zone to preserve my personal space. No change there, then. It’s just reassuring to know, that in the event of a national emergency, I will spend the evenings with wine, books, Sarah Lancashire, and mis-matched pasta shapes. As I said, there are a million worse positions in which to be.

Have a lovely week, folks.


*I've also earmarked a rewatch of Queer as Folk, all of Taskmaster, and the film Reality Bites - which I loved when I was 20, and I want to see if it holds up.

LeezaCon Can't Be Far Away...

On Saturday it was a year since Leeza McAuliffe Has Something To Say was published. It's flown by and it's dragged. It depends on my mood as to whether I feel like it's ages ago or if I'm still caught up in the frenzy.

Happy birthday to this gal!

One of the things I've learnt since getting my books out there, is how far apart the peaks and troughs really are. The ebbs and flows. The highs and lows. Back in the day, I think I assumed that if someone had written a book, then that book would be sold at an even rate throughout the year. For well known people, writing much-loved stories, that might be several hundred a day. For less known, less established writers, that might be one or two a day. Either way, I assumed there was a consistency to the sales rate.

Obviously, that's rubbish. Course it is. The frenzied thrill of sales graphs, climbing numbers and money to be made, takes place on publication week. That's when it all happens. I think this is as true for the big names as it is for the wannabes like me. Amazon charts, Times best seller lists, algorithms taking notice? All that get sparked off on the week the book hits the world. It might carry on for some weeks after that, if the author is a Legend. But a year on, it's going to have calmed down to a silence - especially if the author is only a legend with a small L, like me. That's why all the writing advice directs you to write another, then another, and then another. 

So Leeza died down a while ago. I get the odd sale here and there but it's mostly calm. It's part of the trough. The ebb. The low. Sometimes it's hard to remember the feeling of the peaks, flows, and highs, even though this time last year I was full of them. The past year has still contained good bits, though. Even after publication week was over and the year cracked on, there have been occasional highlights now and then. 

Emails from readers have been particularly lovely. Hearing that the characters of the story have both entertained and helped people feel differently about their own situations, has been immense. It's hard to top that. And then, in local news, getting the book into libraries was also a peak. Just a few nearby ones, but still. Seeing it on shelves, and seeing it's been booked out when I check online (yeah, I do that) is a real buzz. And then there was World Book Day. Last Thursday my teacher-mate messaged me in the morning. Like many in the country, her school were dressing up as their favourite book characters that day. She sent me pictures of a girl in her class who had come dressed as...wait for it... Leeza!* Yeah, for realsies!

**I think it's hilarious anyway.

Fun fact: This entire extract is
based on a real life incident involving
 two of my sisters and my dad.

I'm not going to lie. It was the single best thing that has happened in months. Writing Book Three is an ongoing slog. There aren't many highs right now. Seeing pictures of someone that had not only chosen an outfit that Leeza would wear, but who'd made props to establish her character? Well it was fabulous. I particular loved the Egyptian project she carried with her. In the story, there's a hilarious** family anecdote about pyramids that prompts Leeza to dig out her Egypt work from the previous year. The fact that this girl had brought a picture of Tutankhamun, the Pyramids and the Sphinx with her, is the best thing I've ever seen. She also included a completed Enid Blyton book review. (She had written a book review as part of her costume because Leeza writes a book review about that particular book in the story.) It was meta and clever and brilliant. I was overwhelmed all day. 

Last Thursday was definitely a peak. A high. A flow. It reminded me that even when it feels there's lots of monotony, it won't always be the case. Something will happen, something unexpected, to remind me that I'm not wasting my time. Last week's Ramble was one long rant about the editing process of which there seems no end. But then on Thursday, because of one reader, I was walking on air all day. As Ferris Bueller once said, 'Life moves pretty fast.' He was not wrong.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*My Twitter timeline has retweeted pics!

Land Mines and Other Pointless Similes...

Right then, it’s book update time. I could tell you were desperate to hear where I’m up to. It was written all over your face.

The yellow chair of joy. All editing
 activity has taken place here. This
photo also includes exciting redacted
content. (All right, all right, I'll tell you.
It's boring filing cabinets, OK? Now
get lost and leave me alone.)

If we split the editing process into three stages, I’ve definitely entered the worst part. You know the bit I mean? The, stupid, rubbish, middle section of proceedings? I’m calling it rubbish and stupid because it’s hard to define. I’ll try in a sec, but we’ll get to that. As someone who prides themselves on effective written communication, I’m already struggling. But still, bear with me and it might get clearer. Let’s start with Stage One. 

Stage One of Editing – The Fun Part

The initial editing phase is really good. It’s the bit where you sit down with your shit-but-completed first draft and read it through. There are a million things that jump out. Lots of errors. Pages of pointless description. Not enough dialogue, and too much exposition. But, it’s fun! You start from the beginning and read chapters you haven’t looked at for months. A really lovely line might catch you by surprise. You’ll get choked at an emotional bit, then laugh out loud at something else. You know there’s tons of work to do, but you’ve only just started so it’s fine. It's a time of possibility. A great stage. 

We’ll come back to the rubbish and stupid Stage Two in a minute. Let’s fast forward to…

Stage Three of Editing – The End is Nigh Part

You've almost made it. The draft is tight. The plot's locked down. The character’s voices lift from the page. There are highs, there are lows. Funny bits are funny, sad bits are sad. It’s all there. You’re nearly done. Now it’s about spell checking, grammar checking, and line by line reading with a ruler underneath. It’s about reading it aloud, giving it to others, getting feedback from a range of (honest) people, and considering every single word that’s on the page. It doesn’t matter that you know it off by heart. You're no longer reading it as a reader. You have to look at everything from a distance. It’s the shining and polishing part of the process. The finessing. And the thrill of seeing a perfectly composed, precise sentence where once there had been a rambling paragraph, is a delight. The time has come. The previous months have been amateur hour. It's time for a real editor to get involved. You’re ready to pass it on.

Taken from this website. There are
loads of versions of this online, taken
 from King's book, On Writing. It's
well worth a read.

Right then, let’s jump back and tackle the phase I’m in now. The STUPID, RUBBISH, ANNOYING part.

Phase one ended last week. I'd read it through, made notes, then amended the draft with the ideas from those notes. Now, before I can move on to the all-singing, all-dancing, jazz hands of a final phase, there are many things to sort out. In no particular order, I need to…

1...take out the similes. There are too many. And metaphors too. Distracting and irrelevant. Next!

2...sort out my clumsy sentences. I over use ‘so’, ‘just’, ‘for a bit’, ‘anyway’, ‘besides, ‘but’, and ‘however.’ Despite what I told my Year Fours a million years ago, connectives are not necessary in every paragraph. I over use them in the first draft of anything I ever write. Distracting and amateur. Next!

3...listen to Stephen King. Stephen King wrote a thing. (I’m a poet and I didn’t…sorry, I’ll stop now.) But he did write a thing. Tips for Writers taken from his book On Writing. He said, ‘The road to hell is paved with adverbs.’ Despite adverbs being something else I'd tell my Year Fours were of vital importance, I know differently in civvie life. I need to delete every single adverb that has crept onto the pages. Or if not fully eradicate them, allow only one or two. I know they’re in there, hiding away. Silently, secretly, sitting quietly amidst the dazzingly white pages on the carefully written book that… oh damn. Pesky little beggars. Next!

4...make the characters authentic. I need to go through each character’s dialogue and check their dialect and vocab fits with who they are. I need to decide whose phone pings and whose phone beeps. I need to decide who drinks coffee and who drinks tea, and make sure it’s consistent throughout. If someone drops F-bombs easily, they need to throughout the book. Everyone needs to sound like the person I'm saying they are. They can't all blend into the same character. 

5...make sure that every single plot point is followed up or explained. If I’ve thrown in points to make the reader wonder about early on, I need to include some sort of closure further down the line. I can't disregard ideas I included. I can’t forget to make it make sense. Next!

6...keep going for as long as it takes. Stage Two (AKA The Stupid, Rubbish, Crap stage) can't last forever. it just feels like it does. I've only just entered it, and it's already driving me mad. Like sweeping for all the different mines in the world, I need to keep digging through the pages, taking a different aspect to fix, each time. At the time of writing, my next mine to clear is the backstory from the first book, Carry the Beautiful. I'll highlight every bit that refers to the previous book's plot. Then I can see if there's any repetition or erroneous detail. Some backstory is essential, but a complete rehashing of Book One is not. Tomorrow's job is to clear that mine. Sigh.

So there we are. The Bond Theory of Editing. Likening it to mine clearance gives off a far more dramatic air than sitting in a comfy chair with cups of tea tends to be in reality. I don’t imagine I’ll be asked for my TED talk any time soon, but it’s a process. A six-month one, at least. When I think back to my Year Fours, they didn't know they were born. I’d insist on five minutes of checking their full stops and capital letters before collecting their books. If only it were that easy. I'd have been finished weeks ago.  

Have a lovely week, folks.

A Small Stuff Influence-ee...

The author, Val McDermid, was once interviewed by Graham Norton on his Saturday morning radio show. He asked whether, as a full-time writer, she could still read at the same time. The implication being that when working on her own writing, it might be hard to keep her own style distinct from the authors that she read at the same time. Her answer was clear.

'Some writers say, 'Oh I can’t read when I’m writing, I’m worried about it infecting my style'. But I’ve never felt that insecure about my own voice. I hear my voice, my characters clearly enough in my head and I don’t think I get influenced unduly by the voices of other writers that I’m reading.'

I heard it at the time and remember it well. The reason it stuck with me, is that I wish I had her clarity. She is so confident that her own voice is firmly embedded, that other author’s words can fill her head and not affect her. I love that. I hope to feel the same way one day. Right now, however, it’s hard. 

Would reverse psychology
 work on Val McDermid?

It all depends on whose books I read. There are plenty that I can immerse myself in, that don’t have any effect. But these are the books that I can take or leave. They’ll pass a rainy day and might keep me interested to the end, but two days later I’ll have no memory of the plot. These are not the books I’m worried about.

Instead, it’s the work of my favourite authors - the ones whose language and imagery is a real hook – that I need to avoid when I’m writing. Caitlin Moran is up there. Last time I read one of her books, I was in a pub and had to keep getting my phone out to snap actual sentences. They were works of art, in the same way I might photo the sunset or my nephew being cute. I can’t read Caitlin Moran at the moment. With the best will in the world, my head would turn by her turn of phrase. I need to keep hold of my own style. Or continue to struggle to find it, without undue influence.

My current dilemma is Marian Keyes’ latest book, Grown Ups. It came out last week and I’m desperate to read it. But because I’m at the tweaking, and rewriting stage with my own stuff, I know it’ll seep in. Her voice is really strong. It has an informal quality to it, and the dialogue is always spot on. I feel like it would absolutely find its way into my writing if I began to read it now. Avoiding it is sensible even though I’m missing out.

I’m ridiculously susceptible to influence. I’ve known this for some time. On the one hand, I’m strong-minded and determined. I know what I think about all the big issues. But on the other hand, I can be swayed really easily on smaller things. As the saying goes, I’m an advertiser’s wet dream. (It’s a saying. Defo.)

So, while I battle to keep Marian Keyes’ latest book at bay (for now) here are some examples of my blatant lack of free will when it comes to other choices.

This popped up on my Instagram last year. I was on holiday and craved it every single night until I was home. 

As soon as I was back in my own kitchen, I recreated it. Here is my piss-poor attempt at imitation being a form of flattery. It tasted great even if it failed to look the part. 

When Queer as Folk was broadcast in 1999, I LOVED Stewart Jones’ car.

 Nine years later, when I was able, I got the same one. Black Jeeps for the win!

A few weeks ago I realised that Roisin Conaty has great taste in clothes. I like her short black skirt, thick black tights, and ankle boots combo. (Not technically pictured above, although I do own the slippers she's wearing here.)

I spent an evening on eBay and found two skirts similar to the ones she wears on Taskmaster. I now own them, even though I don’t wear skirts. They’ll stay in my wardrobe until I fill the next charity bag. Thanks Roisin.

Finally, an influence that makes me drool just by typing. In Birds of Prey, Harley Quinn orders an egg sandwich. That sounds simple and dull. The reality is a porny, lingering sequence of eggs being fried, bacon being crisped, cheese being melted and rolls being brushed with melted butter. Is your mouth watering yet or is it just me? 

I saw it on a Friday night and by the Saturday morning I had recreated my own. It was nowhere near as good as the one in the film (I had no bacon or hot sauce) but I had to attempt it or it'd have never left my mind.

Being susceptible to low-level influence is not that bad. When it takes the form of buying secondhand skirts, or recreating food that someone else has made look inviting, it’s not that unhealthy at all. I can handle that amount of suggestion in my life. I suppose the challenge is when unhealthy influence presents itself. I’ve made a personal Twitter policy of unfollowing or blocking anyone that’s rude and bigoted. In recent weeks, I’ve got rid of a couple more TV journalists and politicians, blocked another newspaper, and deliberately sought out people that are trying to make the world a better place. I don’t want to be in an echo chamber surrounded by my own views. But then I don’t want to scroll through abusive content and misinformation that masquerades as news. When the bloke in the pub has a different opinion than I do, that’s fine. When the bloke in the pub has a different opinion than I do, but repeatedly screams it in my face whilst spouting insults and lies, then it’s time for that bloke to leave. The block button is the landlady, throwing him out on his ear. 

Influence. If you have it, use it wisely. Make me like a TV character’s car enough to buy it. Tell me that fried egg on toast is the only thing I want to eat. But don’t spout lies and bigotry all over my timeline. It only makes you look bad. And if you're a brilliant author creating magic with your books, keep going! Crack on! I will get to you ASAP, just as soon as I'm no longer susceptible to your wily ways.

Have a lovely week, folks.

The Name's Bond. Nicky Bond...

Twitter trends come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes they're celebratory, sometimes they represent a shared television experience, other times, they're properly tragic. The death of someone far too young has dominated Weekend Twitter, and a variety of hashtags showing support, grief, and outrage have been listed. This post isn't about that. It was written before that particular news broke. But as it references Twitter trends, it seemed random to upload it without referencing how quickly they change. How one day it's frivolous nonsense, and the next it's really sad stuff. I wrote this on Friday, and felt upbeat as a result. Upbeat feels like a decent vibe to put out there.

Do you remember where you were when you heard the exciting news? What you were doing, who you were with, how you felt? Sorry, haven't I said? My bad. It's the new Bond theme, of course. Did you hear it? Did you catch it when it dropped? Were you able to give it your full attention or did it enter your consciousness gradually over several plays as you went about your weekend?

Fair play to Billie Eilish. She did a cracking
job singing at the Oscars last week.

I'll be totally honest from the start. I haven't heard it. Yeah, I know. I don't care and I never really have. Sorry to Billy Eilish who I'm sure is marvellous. Sorry to Adele, Sam, Garbage, Aha, Dame Shirley, and anyone else who ever gave their best Bond effort. This is not about you. I promise. The issue is all mine. 

Don't take it personally, Sean.
You've plenty of fans without me.

I've never fully worked out why the Bond films leave me cold. It's possibly because their blokey-aesthetic doesn't float my boat. If my head is taken out of the plot by the need to rail against the sexism and sexual transgressions of the hero, then it's going to stop me enjoying what's supposed to be escapist fun. I'll leave it for others to watch instead. The other issue of course is that it's my name. When I hear the name Bond, I have a dozen or so other people who immediately come to mind before the fictional spy man. Who's James? No one I know.

Growing up with the name Bond is quite nice. It has a cache of cool about it, presumably based on those very films I don't enjoy. Upon hearing my name for the first time, there's always a similar response from strangers. It's changed slightly over time, but it's fundamentally the same. When I was younger, it was, 'Ha, is your Dad called James?' LOLZ. As I got older, it was, 'Ha, is your boyfriend called James?' More LOLZ. I've yet to reach the 'son' or 'grandson,' stage but I'm sure it will happen*. The circle of life and all that. It still doesn't make it witty though.

Friday morning's
 trending topics.

In spite of that, I love my name. It's mine so I have to. It would be sad if I didn't. But it also means that I see it on film posters and headlines every so often. It was trending on Twitter on Friday, which caused me a small amount of glee before I realised it was because of the new Bond theme. (I imagine seeing your name trend unexpectedly for those in the public eye is an entirely negative and stressful event.) But all this got me thinking. If I'm going to ignore the official Bond theme that the world is talking about, what's MY Bond theme? Or themes? What songs would I have in the story of Bond, Nicky Bond, 009**. Well, worry not because the wait is over. Here are my Bond themes. The songs that soundtrack the themes of MY life. The songs I turn up and belt out as soon as I hear them. Click the links and enjoy them all, it's my gift to you. And as an act of reconciliation, I'd be happy for Aha, or Dame Shirls, or Billy E to cover any of them, any time.

Yep, Gloria covered it too.
Image taken from this website.

I Am What I Am - From La Cage Aux Folles

I first heard this as a disco version on the Queer as Folk soundtrack in 1999. I decided I wanted it played at my funeral. Since then I've seen it performed in its original guise a couple of times - slowed down and powerfully emotive - ending the first act of La Cage Aux Folles. It demands to be played loud and proud. It's brilliant. It's my fave. Click on both links to enjoy the different versions yourself. And I still want it at my funeral. Disco or musical theatre, I don't care which.

The song is taken from a 1884 film
of the same name. I've never seen it,
never wanted to see it, and know
very little about it. But this GIF is
from that film so please enjoy.

Electric Dreams - Phil Oakey featuring Georgio Moroder

When anyone asks me about my favourite song, this is the answer I give. (The only other response is True Colours by Cyndi Lauper but it's too slow and mellow to be a Nicky Bond Theme. Soz.) It's from my childhood, it takes me back, and it's upbeat enough to raise a mood. It was out a few years before but I became aware of it on a caravan holiday in Weymouth in 1987. It was played every night in the family club, along with Rick Astley and Mel and Kim. I don't remember dancing to it as such. I was way too cool for that, obvs, but I really liked it. See what you think all on your own and click the title. It'll definitely perk you right up.

Rise Like a Phoenix - Conchita Wurst

I first heard it from a big screen in a Copenhagen market square, during the Eurovision Semi of 2014. I heard for a second time, two nights later, in the auditorium for the final. Rise Like a Phoenix romped home, got all the love in the world from the crowd and became my favourite Eurovision entry of all time. (Sorry to Sweden's own Herreys, who had that honour until Conchita came along. Diggiloo Diggiley will ALWAYS be in my heart.) It soars, it swells, it's empowering and powerful. It was also compared to a Bassey Bond theme at the time. See what you think. And then, just for fun, listen to Diggiloo as well. Both classics. Both worth a listen.

Timeless

A Little Respect - Erasure

Before The Killers came into my life, this was the only song that would get me up on a dance floor without being dragged. The second it comes on, I want to dance. That's not a feeling I'm used to, and happens at no other point in my life. (Mr Brightside is the only recent exception.) It immediately reminds me of a school trip to Germany although there's now a second memory. This was my brother and sister-in-law's first dance at their wedding last year. Their music choice had been a closely guarded secret. When it came on, I was - luckily for them - embroiled in an in depth conversation about whiskey with my uncle. If he hadn't been taking all my attention, I'd have bounded over to their marital dance space and joined right in. (The quote, 'There were three of us in this marriage,' would have been entirely apt. For the length of the song, at least.) I think we all owe my uncle a great debt of gratitude for his timely intervention.

My US based GIF finder has
been unable to source a
Grace Petrie GIF. Booo.
But here's me aged seven,
who would have loved
to have heard Black Tie
around about then.

Black Tie - Grace Petrie

My most recent theme song. My sister heard this on Radio 2 last year and told me I'd love it. She was right. The lyrics are perfect. The tone is spot on. It breezily shoots through all the issues I get wound up about, with an upbeat tempo and cheery melody. It's also got a massive emotional punch. I've learnt it off by heart, so if I am ever called on for an impromptu karaoke performance, I've got this under my belt. I love it so much. It's everything. It also has the best rhyme in the chorus.*** 

So, either I've given you the best start to your day, with excellently curated song choices that make you want to sing along and work out your own theme tunes, or, I've bored you senseless with pointless riffing on my life and derided a much loved film franchise along the way. Hey, I am what I am. You need to have a little respect. Erm... something about electric dreams of a black tie... and we'll rise like a phoenix from the ashes next time. Or something. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

*Obvs I am blatantly old enough to have a son. But I'm also at the age where strangers worry about referring to possible children if they do not see them with me. They worry it could highlight a loss they perceive in me, or set me off on an emotional rant about not assuming things about my life. I see this a lot. It's just how it is. There is no loss and I love my childfree status. But to then explain that to strangers at a cash till only comes off as over-compensatory and defensive. Sigh. 

**Not even joking. 009 was my reference number for my GCSEs. I had to write it on the front of every exam paper. If there had been two less people before me in the alphabet, 007 would have been all mine.

***The rhyme I love is...

And the images that fucked ya

Were a patriarchal structure...

It never fails to both cheer me up and embolden me in one fell swoop.