Word Soup #3

I'm away in Norwich now*, but thanks to the miracles of blog scheduling I am speaking to you from beyond time. If things go badly wrong with the trains, I could even be speaking to you from beyond the grave.

Treasure it.

If you're not in Norwich tonight like I am, but in Preston - or within a stone's throw of it, then go to the usual place (New Conti) at the usual time for an evening of fun and frolics.

I'm not hosting it this time - Ann The Poet of Kendal Brewery fame is taking the reins for an evening of performance poetry, music and open mike.

More here.



*Don't think this means you can come to my house, touch my special bookcase, sit in my brown chair and burgle my precious items. There's a man with a stick waiting for you. Oh yes, I know all about burglars.

More Trips Out

Tonight I shouldn't be blogging, I should be packing my bag and doing something nice to my hair, because I'm reading at the Norwich Debut evening tomorrow night. Apparently, I'm one of the 'hottest young writers around'

Hear that? Hot. Whhesshh!

I have a new story out in a collection about The Smiths edited by Peter Wild. If you like the Annie book, you'll probably like my story. It is called Some Girls are Bigger Than Others. Toby Litt did a review of the collection here.

The picture is a christmas pudding on fire. That's a clever and cunning reference to me being 'hot' (Whhesshh!) as well as an allusion to the last line of my Smiths story.

You'll have to read it to find out.

edited to add: gosh, I sound like a tool. My cringe-radar is all out today, I think.

Mole

I saw a mole on the way through the car park outside the prison yesterday. It was scuttling through the long grass. Ash coloured suedey coat and big digger hands the colour of horse-noses/mouse feet.

I've never seen a mole before.


When I came out of the prison in the afternoon and walked past the same bit of grass, I saw it again, on its back. I touched it and it was stiff.

Now I'd like to find out everything I can about moles.

Normal "high-quality" blog posts to resume soon.

Cambridge Japes

I had a lovely time. Thank you Rosey, Natalie, Alaysha (I hope that is right) Pam and Clare. It was emotional to be back.

This place is the first place that I felt at home and the first place where I felt reading and writing for a living was an acceptable ambition. It takes confidence to say you want to be a writer (even if you never say it out loud, it is still scary) and Newnham is where I started feeling confident. I love this place. And I loved doing my reading and answering questions and listening to all sorts of other people who are going to be all kinds of different writers.

Ace! Top Banana!

And, while I'm here, or rather, while I was rooting about on the internet, what a shame it was to discover that Newnham is hiking up the rent that students pay to live there 8.5 % ( a year. For five years.) as well as charging top-up-fees. I'd never be able to go there now. Not in a million years. I only just coped with the post-degree debt as it was.

It makes me sad.

I know good things aren't always (and maybe shouldn't always) be free, and I know that Newnham gives very generous bursaries and financial assistance to students who need it.

But all the same, it is probably a good idea not to make it so that only rich students are allowed to go to a place that has such a profound, long lasting effect on the women who study there.

Seems a bit old fashioned to me.

The talk I gave was for the arts soc. That's where Virgina Woolf first mentioned that a woman needed a room of her own in order to write. A room of her own and five hundred pounds a year. Which, by today's standards, is quite a lot more than the average wage, tons more (according to S of A figs) than the average writer earns from her writing, and maybe not enough to have a room of your own at Newnham.

Just saying.

Guess What?

I'm giving up the day job to be a real writer. For a little while, at least.

I think I'll miss my borrowers, but I'll like being able to wear my own (unironed, not work) trousers every day.

My work trousers can be lonely and creased at the very back of my wardrobe, near the uncomfortable shoes and the bags I don't like any more, and the new things I am denying that I have spent money on until a decent amount of time has elapsed since the last time I spent money on new things.

I hate you, work trousers.

Titivate

Those of you who peep at this blog in a reader might want to click through because I've just added a few things to the side-bar including (by popular demand) a list of Festivals, readings and events I'll be doing through the summer and autumn this year.

Blog Free

I've had a whole week on annual leave from my library job, and I've been able to spend lots of extra time with the small-fry.

Who told me yesterday she liked playing with me and me NOT being on the computer like I was ALWAYS not having my eyes on her but TYPING a story and she would not wait one more minute but play with me NOW.

She's got blue eyes, and her iris goes violet when she's pissed off. It's a stop-typing-put-your-eyes-on-my-eyes warning. Scary. Apparently, I've got a look like that too.

Guilt comes with motherhood and it's there no matter what you do, but if you're owed email, blame her, not me. I'm off to do some dressing up for a fairy-castle tea-party with my very own enemy of promise right now.

Freckleton Frolicks

Here's a rare thing on this blog - a picture of me doing my thing, 'my thing' in this case, being a reading and Q and A at Freckleton Library.

I decided to sit on the table instead of on the chair because there were lots of people and I wanted to be able to make sure the people at the back weren't snoring and talking amongst themselves. There were also two children in the group, which meant as I read I needed to do a bit of hasty editing to get rid of some of the rude words... (I have no problem with my small fry hearing colourful language, but you never can be too careful).

Highlights of the events were the chocolate eclairs and chats about writing afterwards, the interesting questions, signing books on the roof of my car (I tried to sneak away early because I had an attack of shyness) and the big nice bunch of flowers the Branch Manager gave me at the end.

One of the nicest, friendliest readings I've ever done. I like them much better when they turn into conversations, rather than me just standing opining into a microphone. Libraries rule. I'm on my way to another library tonight - Layton Library in Blackpool to join in with their readers' Orange Prize Eve party, and do a little reading for them.

If you're in the mood for looking at more pictures, here's a few from the last Word Soup.