Tag Archives: e-book

Laundry Baskets and Nene Valley Living: 2013 365 Challenge #45

Wriggly Worms - the many usages of a laundry basket #1

Wriggly Worms – the many usages of a laundry basket #1

I had some exciting news today. Our local free magazine – Nene Valley Living – has agreed to publish an ‘interview with author Amanda Martin’ that I wrote for them, focusing on the daily blog and the free Two-Hundred Steps Home ebook. The editor apologised that they wouldn’t be able to pay me for the feature (I had no expectation of payment, so was highly amused) as they don’t have much editorial budget. When I had stopped laughing I emailed back and said That’s okay, it’s the promotion that’s key. Hopefully I’ll be in the April or May edition, so watch this space. My first successful piece of marketing – hurrah!

I have decided that I need to get a professional photograph of me taken however, as the editor would like a headshot and the best I have is one I cropped from me heavily pregnant with my second child. I rarely wear make up these days and my hair is only straight on the annual event of a hair cut. Even though the feature is about ‘WriterMummy’ it would be nice to look vaguely professional!

Scary Monsters - the many uses of a laundry basket #2

Scary Monsters – uses of a laundry basket #2

It’s snowing here again. Not the 3 feet of snow my sister has had in Boston, more like a third of an inch, but it it freezing and I confess to being a bit tired of winter now. It’s hard to take the kids out when it’s cold as the whole time is spent putting hats and gloves back on and rubbing life back into frozen fingers. Friends came over and we turned the house into an indoor park with play tent, football goal and building blocks. Their favourite toy? Some old laundry baskets I have which turned them into wriggly worms and scary monsters. Bless.

Think Claire might get out in some more clement weather today just because I feel the need for it. Never mind that it’s probably never sunny in the Lake District in March, I think some poetic licence is called for.

Update. I decided to set Claire a little challenge instead, courtesy of a Youtube video I came across while researching Windermere. She’ll have to go hiking in the sun tomorrow.

______________________________________________________________________________________

“Your turn Claire.”

The bridge stretched ahead of her like something out of an Indiana Jones movie. She glanced down, half expecting to see a rushing torrent fifty feet below. Instead there was just a car park at a distance of less than fifteen feet. She searched for her Skoda in the distance then looked back down at the ground. It was a mistake. The bile rose in her throat before sinking down to churn up her stomach. She dragged her eyes back to the structure in front of her.

Dammit I knew this was a stupid idea. The bridge hadn’t appeared that wide when she’d driven underneath it. Now it might as well span the Niagara Falls. Tentatively Claire put one foot on the first of the planks and the whole structure shook as if a force seven earthquake had just hit Windermere. Claire quickly pulled her leg back and retreated inside the tower. She could feel several pairs of eyes on her, willing her on. Behind her a lad sniggered.

Claire inhaled, put one foot on the plank, then another. Willing herself on she gripped the ropes until they tore at her hands and forced herself to cross the bridge. Her heart swooped like a released bird as she reached the tree trunk and wrapped her arms around it.

I did it. I crossed it. She pirouetted round the tree-trunk, surveying the rest of the course.

The next challenge was another bridge. Okay, I can do that now. Except this one didn’t have any ropes to hold onto. You have to be kidding. What? I’m meant to walk across it just balancing? I’m not a circus freak. Claire wished she could have watched the person in front do it, but they were already out of sight further down the course. Claire wrapped her hands around her rope harness and pulled, making sure it would hold. Then she closed her eyes and put her foot on the structure. It tipped sideways, throwing her stomach to the ground.

“Bollocks.” The word slipped out and Claire looked round to make sure the person coming up behind her hadn’t heard. She saw a petit figure bouncing across the bridge and was faced with the prospect of sharing a small platform with a bouncy child or running across a few pieces of wood stretched between two ropes. As the sound of giggling came nearer Claire swallowed, urging her legs to move. It was no good. Her feet were glued to the platform. No matter how many curses she yelled inside the cavern of her mind her feet refused to move.

Eventually a voice permeated the greyness.

“Hey, lady?”

Claire turned to locate the source and her gaze met a pair of clear blue eyes peering up at her from beneath a giant helmet. It looked like a cheeky beetle. The child was younger than Sky. Who lets a five-year-old up here? Claire grimaced at the girl, not trusting herself to speak.

“It’s your turn lady. It’s okay. I did this twice already, it’s easy peasy. Besides, you can’t fall.” She leaned sideways until the rope at her waist went tight then took her feet off the platform.

“Don’t do that!” Claire’s voice was probably only audible to dogs. The girl laughed and swung herself back onto the platform. She grinned at Claire, then raised an eyebrow as if to say Go on!

Claire looked at the grinning eyes and felt her cheeks redden. I will not be shown up by a child. She turned, inhaled, and ran. Her body slammed into the next tree trunk and she felt the bark graze her cheek. As her heart rate slowed to a mere gallop Claire turned to watch the child hoping gracefully across the rope structure. It made her feel ancient.

She conquered a free step to a small plank, then contemplated a snarl of ropes that linked her tree to the next.

I’m not a spider or a rat. How does this work?

Reaching out, Claire took hold of the rope, hoping she didn’t get tangled or, worse still, break a nail. I’m glad Josh isn’t here. I can just imagine the grief he would be giving me right now. That’s if he wasn’t standing underneath passing comment on my derriere.

The next crossing looked like a stretched-out clothes dryer, the kind her gran used to put ginormous grey knickers on in the utility room. It felt as stable as a deckchair when she put her weight on it.

Slowly, carefully, Claire crept round the course, all the while trying to stay ahead of the girl, as much to avoid the patronising encouragement as the excessive bouncing.

At last she reached the end of the course, only then realising she was on a different tree to the one connected to the Indiana Jones bridge.

How do I get down?

Claire stood on the platform and looked over at the tower where she started. Then she noticed a small sign next to her. Zip wire? Oh no. How did I miss that?

“Go on lady, just step off. It isn’t scary.” Claire turned to see the beetle girl standing next to her on the platform. “I wish I could do the big zip wire but I’m too little.”

The girl gestured at the top of the tower ahead of them. Two stories above where they had started three people were standing on a deck. Claire watched them step off and slide gracefully away into the distance. That doesn’t look so bad. Oh, come on Claire, this is the only thing between you and a cup of tea. Swallowing down the sick taste in her mouth, Claire set her sight on the tower and stepped off the platform. She dropped before the rope took hold and sweat pricked at her forehead.

And then it was over.

“Well done Claire. So are you up for the triple-zip?” Claire stared at the earnest face in front of her and laughed so hard her ribs hurt.

“Sorry,” she said eventually, wiping water from her eyes. “Maybe one day. If you’d told me last week I’d be swinging around fifteen feet off the ground I would have said you were nuts.”

A whisper at the back of Claire’s mind said Climb the stairs. You know you want to. Get the ultimate shot for the blog. Make Josh proud. Claire looked at the corner where the steps led to the next floor. She took one step, then two. Then she shrugged out of the harness and headed back to terra firma.

***

NCT Friends and Indoor Football – 2013 365 Challenge #42

The football goal also doubles up as a playden

The football goal also doubles up as a playden

Today we caught up with our NCT baby group, four years on. We see members from time to time and we try and catch up with everyone once a year. This was the first time in two years that (nearly) everyone was there. I think we were missing two daddies and one sibling. There were 8 couples in our baby group all on their first bump in 2008 and there are now 13 children with another on the way.

We met up in a small indoor play area that I go to quite often. It wasn’t open when we arrived – I don’t think they were expecting 12 kids and the same amount of adults to turn up at 10.30am on a Sunday. It was great to watch the kids running around and to see how much they’ve changed and how much they haven’t. It’s a nice way to keep us grounded with the passing of time.

As husband and I are both still poorly (my cold hopefully going, his just arriving) it was survival for the rest of the day. Rugby on the television with mummy giving commentary to keep the kids interested: “Ooh look now he’s got the ball, watch they’re all going to squish him. Look he’s saying, ‘my ball by ball’, ooh do you think he can kick it between those tall sticks?” Which, to be fair, is about my knowledge of rugby anyway, despite being an avid fan of the game. I can tell you most of the rules of football and cricket including the off-side rule and when it is and isn’t LBW. But rugby, well. I know about tries, line-outs and the fact the ball goes above the bar not below, but the rest is all a bit hazy.

Playdough animals

Playdough animals

We also did playdough and indoor footie. I kept getting told off by my son for responding to comments on twitter and taking pictures of the kids to use on the blog. I do feel bad when he reprimands me for combining work with play but I also remind myself they only go to nursery 2 days a week. We bumped into a friend of Aaron’s at the play centre (hurrah! – they chased each other for half an hour. Genius) and he goes to nursery five days a week. We’re all lucky that Mummy doesn’t have to, although if Daddy doesn’t get a job soon that might change. Having seen how weary my husband is getting of his extended childcare duties I suspect that’s a fate worse than unemployment for him. He freely admits he couldn’t be a stay-at-home dad on a permanent basis.

I spent today also trying to write a press release for the blog/free ebook, seeing it as a dry run for when there’s a proper novel out there that needs promoting. I used to work in Marketing but it’s a different beast when it’s your own stuff you’re selling. My first draft came in at two pages of mostly waffle. I’m always reminded of the quote “sorry for the long letter I didn’t have time to write a short one.” I do tend to the verbose (had you noticed? :D)

__________________________________________________________________________________

Claire settled into the squeaky seat and wrapped her hands around the solid white cup. Her smile spread wide as she raised the drink to her lips and sipped at the froth, glad Josh wasn’t there to see her milk moustache. She felt the air exhale from her lungs in a contented sigh. It wasn’t the biggest Starbucks or the most up to date. But the coffee always tasted the same. The caffeine zinged through her body, carried to the furthest tips of her fingers by her grateful blood.

She glanced up through the window for the eighth time. Stop looking. It’s no concern of yours where he’s gone. Another voice in her mind said no concern but still intriguing. We’d barely parked when he said See ya later and legged it.

Claire took another long slurp of her latte, letting the sensation of civilisation wash through her, warming her right to the centre. With a sigh she placed the cup back on the table and took out her Lonely Planet guide. If I’m only going to be in the Lakes for a day or so I’d better find something noteworthy to do. I don’t want Carl making me come straight back. I intend to spend at least a week in the next city we come to, even if it is Liverpool.

She flicked idly through the pages around Keswick and came across a picture of a snowy ridge of mountains with the title Skiddaw. That looks the ticket. A picture of me up there should shut Carl up for a while. I wonder if I can climb up for a photograph without having to walk along it. It’s not far from the hostel, maybe it’s not a bad thing that Cockermouth wasn’t available.

There was a tap on the window and Claire looked up automatically. A gentleman in shirt and tie was peering through the glass searching the interior of the coffee shop. As his gaze locked with Claire’s the clean-shaven face broke into a smile. Claire automatically smiled back although she had no idea who the man was. He does look familiar. God I hope it’s not another client. She hadn’t bumped into anyone she knew since the services on the way to Berwick and definitely wanted to keep it that way.

As if in response to her smile the man raised his hand in a wave and headed for the door to the café. Bugger, he’s coming in. She plastered her best client-facing expression on her face and sat up straighter in her chair, sliding the Lonely Planet guide off the table into her lap.

“Hey Claire, still here? How many coffees have you had? Am I going to have to tie your arse to the seat so you can drive us to the hostel?”

The words, as much as the Aussie twang, confirmed to Claire what her eyes could not credit.

“Josh?”

“Of course it’s me, dingbat.” He slid into the seat opposite, a faint blush of colour peeping through his brown cheeks. His eyes slid away from hers and he made a show of looking round the room as if taking in the scene.

“So this is what we drove all the way here for? It’s nothing special.”

“It’s not the décor it’s the drink.” She wrapped her hands protectively around the coffee mug and drank the tepid dregs.

“Now I’ve heard that said about a bar but never about a coffee shop. You’re one strange girl.”

“I’m strange?” Claire’s voice rose in indignation. “I haven’t suddenly reappeared with a spanking haircut, shave, and shirt and tie still with the shop-bought creases in. What gives?” The words were out before she could stop them, despite vowing to herself that she wouldn’t question him. Sure enough a veil dropped across Josh’s face and his eyes lost their sharp focus.

“I had to Skype the folks. Mum likes me to look smart.” They both looked down at his hands where they twisted like coiled snakes on the table-top. “Anyway are you going to buy me one of these famous coffees or shall we head back to civilisation? Cities cramp my soul.”

As the words settled softly in Claire’s mind like fresh snow she was aware of a sense of loss. Whose loss she couldn’t say, or even why she had the feeling. It seemed like Josh was floating away on an iceberg in a choppy sea. She shook off the strange sensation and gave him her widest smile.

“Sure, let’s head to Keswick. I’m thinking of hiking Skiddaw tomorrow.”

The effect was instant, like changing the batteries in a run-down appliance. Josh sat up, his face beaming. The air of ancient injury dropped away and he became young again.

“Sweet.”

***

Related (and interesting-looking) articles

Bribery and hurrah for Funny Blogs – 2013 365 Challenge #39

Magazine-craft Aliens (made with Daddy)

Amber’s Magazine-craft Aliens (made with Daddy)

I managed to bribe my son into nursery today with promises of a buying a new magazine tomorrow (the kids love getting magazines, but they’re so expensive!).

He still didn’t quite manage not to cry. Poor wee man, my heart went out to him. We’re all so poorly at the moment none of us know where we are. (Turns out they’ve had Scarlet Fever at nursery and I suspect that might be what Amber had last week. Maybe even Aaron. Poor buttons.)

Luckily his big sister was there to help him settle today – goodness only knows how he’ll cope when she starts school in September. Hopefully by then he’ll be more confident, having survived the terrible twos. (I find the threes are the tiresome threes but that might just be me!)

Aaron's magazine-craft artwork

Aaron’s magazine-craft artwork

Talking of terrible twos I stumbled across a new blog today that had me laughing so hard I wept. I love those moments when you just can’t stop laughing and every new gem makes you laugh harder.

I only found the blog because the author liked yesterday’s post (and I lost the ‘like’ when I had to replace the post with the full one. I got caught out by scheduling a half-finished post and then not having internet access.) Anyway the blog is theclothesline.ie and these are my favourite posts (though I loved many more)

Things I am Banning from My House

I’m a Survivor – the Highs and Lows of Parenting a Two-Year-Old

Painting for a card commission

Painting for a card commission

Today has been about catching up with the blog, painting card stock and learning about Smashwords. I really want to get January’s posts up for free but I don’t think I’ve had enough sleep to read the style guide without nodding off (that is not an aspersion on the quality of the guide but due to my cold-drenched state!)

For once I’m actually looking forward to sitting down with the children tomorrow to do craft. I think that’s about the limit of my current mental powers.

Update: I did manage to plough through the Smashwords style guide and – hurrah! – the first volume of instalments is now available FREE on Smashwords. Just follow the link in the margin. It wasn’t a bump-free road. The style guide you can download is essential and easy to follow. However despite my very best efforts I still have a persistent blank page between instalments 23 and 24 which will probably stop the book being accepted into Smashword’s premium catalogue. I don’t really mind, it’s free after all so it’s not about making money, it’s just bugging me. I’ve uploaded five new versions but can’t seem to fix it.

Walk. Away. Walk. Away. Now.

Can’t.

__________________________________________________________________________________

“Get me down!”

Josh grinned up at Claire from the gorge below and cupped his hands to his mouth. “That’s the general idea. Just do what the man tells you, you’ll be fine.”

His words were barely audible over the sound of rushing water and the thudding of Claire’s heart beneath the harness.

“Okay Claire, there is nothing to be scared of. You’ve seen the others do it and they’ve all been fine, haven’t they?”

Claire dragged her eyes away from the yawning space beneath her and looked at the owner of the voice. He seemed to expect something from her so she nodded, not trusting herself to speak without swearing or sobbing.

“So, what we’re going to do is talk you through it one step at a time. You trust me, don’t you Claire?”

His voice was safe, like a kind GP or a favourite Uncle. His rich Cumbrian accent washed over her and she found she could breathe again. Then her eyes were pulled to the drop beneath her feet and her lungs once more emptied of air.

“This is no different to the drop you did at the training centre. You just need to turn around and lower yourself backwards. You don’t even need to look down.”

“I don’t need to look,” Claire bit out through clenched teeth. “I can hear the sound of the damn waterfall smashing on the rocks fifty feet below me.”

Part of Claire’s brain wondered at what point Dave’s patience would snap and he would either push her over the edge or give in to her demands to be freed from the harness. The pep talk before they left the centre to walk down had informed them all that even those terrified of heights would be encouraged to descend the 17m drop into the gorge and that the thrill of abseiling down the side of one of The North Pennines’ highest waterfalls always encourages cheers and applause. Claire glanced down at the group of faces peering up at her from below.

I don’t want a sodding clap I want a drink.

She picked out Josh’s face from the crowd. He is not going to let me hear the end of it if I chicken out now. It’s his fault I’m here in the first place. Him and sodding Carl.

Claire let her mind drift back to the email she had received from Carl that morning, just after check-in at Alston YHA.

Claire, we feel your blog needs to be spiced up a bit. Coca Cola are concerned that you are not promoting the outdoors enough. Hiking and biking is all well and good but they want to see more adrenalin. Try for some rock climbing, abseiling, maybe a sky dive. Make sure you post pictures. Carl.

The swearing had gone on for some time but when she had shown Josh the cause of her expletives, he’d merely laughed and said “Good on him.”

She wondered now whether Carl and Josh were in secret collusion to maximise her humiliation.

“If you set Carl up to this Josh you can kiss goodbye to your free ride.” Claire’s words were lost in the spray from the falls. She turned back to face Dave and caught him exchanging grimaces with a colleague. He quickly smoothed his face back into a mask of patient concern but it was too late.

Roll your eyes at me will you, you silly old man? We’ll see about that.

Claire took a short step to the edge of the gorge, threw a glance at Dave’s mate to make sure he was gripping the rope, and tipped herself backwards. Her feet skidded on the slippery wall and all plans of walking slowly down the gorge vanished. Her stomach shot up to her chin as she fell down the cliff-face until she felt the harness catch under her bottom. The motion caused her to spin and her vision filled with alternate views of white water and dark gorge. Freezing spray drenched her and the roar of the rushing water rang through her head.

The world stumbled to a halt as Claire hung suspended from the bright yellow rope; the only primary colour in a field of muted greens and greys. The few seconds it took to lower her to the ground dragged by but eventually Claire felt her boots touch rock. Traitorous knees failed to support her and she landed in an ungainly heap on the wet stone as the rest of her group whooped and clapped.

“Good on yer, Claire.” Josh rapped his knuckles on Claire’s helmet and beamed at her.

She glared up at him for a moment before reaching up her hand. “The least you can do is help me up, you bastard.”

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea. You said you needed high-adrenalin stuff for Blog Fodder. Well, how’s your heart rate? Is she pounding?” He pulled Claire to her feet and leaned in close. “Nice arse by the way. Great view.”

Claire felt the blood heating her frozen cheeks. She considered pushing him into the water but decided she’d save her vengeance for later.

“I hope you got a picture of something other than my rear, I’m not putting that on the blog.”

“Aw, go on, that’ll get the punters coming for sure.” He winked. “No pun intended.”

It was only once she had trudged all the way back to the centre and handed in her gear that Claire realised what he had said.

“I’ll get you, Josh. Just you wait.”

***

Kindle Delight and 2013 365 Challenge #33

My book on kindle (front cover needs some work)

My book on kindle (front cover needs some work)

I finally published something on Kindle! Okay it’s only the same stuff as is available here on the blog, but I still got to go through the self-publishing process at last. It was surprisingly easy although I haven’t proof-read the final product properly yet and I need to tweak the front cover. (I changed the dimensions of the front cover in ten minutes on the PC this morning while up to the eyeballs in cold and it doesn’t look right – I think I have the height to width ratio wrong).

The best bit was watching my husband type my name into Amazon and find my book. Worryingly, over on Goodreads, it seems I have written several other books including one about ancient egypt (!) so I need to investigate that some more. As I don’t intend to promote this book except as a tool on the blog for people to catch up, it can probably wait.

Next priority (apart from writing Claire’s next exploit) is to get this first volume onto Smashwords so I can offer it for free. I did Kindle because I thought I could offer it for free that way – I should have read the small print. You can only offer books free on Kindle through their Select programme (5 days free every 3 months I think it is) and then you can’t offer it anywhere else in any format. I thought they may not like that all the content is freely available on the blog so couldn’t sign up to that.

Unfortunately, having had a sneaky peak at the style guide for Smashwords I think I’ve got some reformatting work to do to get it right. I have to say formatting for Kindle, once I’d worked out what I wanted to do, was actually pretty simple. I had to take my 3AD Publishing logo out because that didn’t look right but other than that it seems to be doing what it needs to do. I’m just sorry that it’s not free. 77p or $0.99 isn’t a lot of money but then 27k words of first draft isn’t a lot of book!

This weekend will mostly be survival as husband now has the awful cold too. We have a couple of kids parties to go to and have promised our daughter we will take her swimming on Sunday so she can try out the “it really swims” doll grandma and grandpa bought her for her birthday. That should nicely fill the time until Monday (and how lovely is it that, for the first time in my life, I’m looking forward to getting to work on a Monday morning!)

Now, where did I leave Claire…

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

“God I’m so sorry.” Claire flushed as she grabbed Josh’s knee instead of the gear stick for the second time.

“No worries.”

Even in the dark she could sense his lewd grin. Blood flushed to her face and she turned to concentrate on the road ahead. She was still searching her whirling brain for a safe topic of conversation when Josh spoke again.

“Claire?”

The serious tone made her glance towards him, trying to see his expression in the dark. She couldn’t and had to twist her head back quickly to concentrate on avoiding an on-coming lorry.

“Yes?”

“Can I read your blog?”

Whatever Claire had thought Josh was going to say that wasn’t it.

“Oh. Sure of course if you want to. You can read it now if you like, there’s not exactly much going on out the window.” It was dusk and the weak Skoda headlights were picking out only the road ahead. The sky was a beautiful deep blue behind them but ahead a mass of storm clouds loomed on the horizon. Claire reached behind her and retrieved her iPad from the pocket of the rucksack.

“Go to the notes section, you’ll see the drafts there.” It could probably wait until they got to the hostel but Claire was eager for a second opinion. So far there had been no likes or comments on her posts and only a few visits. She knew she wasn’t trying as hard as she could to engage on Twitter and Facebook but she was still a little disappointed there wasn’t more response.

Josh stared at the black rectangle in front of him as if it was alien technology. “Um, how do I turn it on?”

Claire held back a laugh. I guess iPads don’t come your way every day when you’re on the road all the time. She conveniently forgot that, until Michael had given this one to her for Christmas, she hadn’t known how to turn one on either. She reached over in the dark, careful to touch only the iPad, pressed the button then swiped the screen. She described the icon he needed to tap and eventually he was immersed in her writing.

The breath seemed to stick in Claire’s throat as she listened to the silence. Eventually, after far longer than it should have taken to read a few thousand words, Josh raised his head and gazed out the window.

“Well?”

“Very informative.” Josh’s voice fell leaden into the waiting silence.

“You don’t like them?” Claire fought an unexpected desire to weep.

“There’s nothing to like or not like. It reads like a website.”

“Well, that’s what it’s meant to be.” Claire could hear her voice rising in the dark and fought to keep it level. “The brief was to write about the YHA’s 200 hostels and how they promote a healthy lifestyle. So that’s what I’ve done. All the information is there.”

“Yes, information. That’s the word. It’s just information. There’s no heart.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“How many followers have you got? How many likes? I know this is the first week but how many people have visited your page?”

Claire found herself surprised at Josh’s knowledge of blogging terminology. She couldn’t find any words to respond.

“I’m sorry, I’ve offended you.” Josh’s voice was soft.

“No,” Claire forced out a laugh. “It takes more than that to offend me. I’m sorry you don’t like it.”

“It’s not that. I think what you’re doing is amazing. I write a blog for the folks back home when I get near a computer and it’s tough thinking of what to write. And it’s not my job.”

That explains how he knows more than I do. She found herself wanting to read his blog, to read about his life on the road.

“Maybe you could guest post on my blog, share your experience of travelling?”

“I can. But this is your blog. You need to write your story. People can go to the YHA website to find out opening times and local attractions. People want colour and texture. Write about hiking the Pennines in the snow. Write about falling off your bike and trashing your trousers. Talk about picking up hitchhikers and seeing the stars.”

“I’m not sure that’s what Coca Cola really want.” And I don’t want the world sharing my humiliations thank you very much.

“Bollocks. They want advertising. That’s all they want. They don’t care how they get it.”

“They will if it portrays their brand in a negative way.”

Josh laughed. “How is it negative that a girl from the city who hadn’t ridden a bike since she was a kid felt so alive the first time she freewheeled down a hillside that she thought she could fly?” There was something in his voice that Claire couldn’t quite place. It made her feel like melted marshmallow in a mug of hot chocolate.

She thought about sharing that part of her adventure on the blog. I guess it can’t do any harm. What does it matter if I humiliate myself? It isn’t my name on the blog anyway and no one I know is going to read it. Especially not Michael. She shook her head at the traitorous words. Michael, will you sod off out of my mind. It’s over and that’s the end of it.

Claire looked out the window as the Sat Nav warned her she was nearing her destination. All she could see was a square of tarmac on the side of the road and some buildings set back behind a line of trees.

“Looks like we’re here.”

She pulled into the car park, glad to have an excuse to finish the conversation. They dragged their bags from the back seat and went in together to check in. All Claire wanted to do was find a quiet corner, get out her iPad, and write.

***

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Gosh February – 2013 365 Challenge #32

First pass at a cover for the YHA Novel (image is a bit small as I only had a couple of istockphoto credits left)

First pass at a cover for the Novel

I can’t believe it’s February already! Where did January go? Unfortunately I’ve entered the new month with a stinking cold. It’s been threatening all day but finally wrapped itself around me as we went to fetch the kids from nursery.

I have been making cards and mini paintings for the gallery today as well as trying to pull together January’s Claire instalments into an ebook. Unfortunately it looks like I won’t be able to offer the ebook for free but I’m still investigating how it all works for kindle: despite reading a dozen blogs on the subject I’m still a complete newbie when it comes to e-publishing!

I have found a cheap image for my front cover (unfortunately the image is tiny as I only had 2 istockphoto credits left so I’ve had to rescale it for the Kindle cover. Definitely work in progress) and I’m pummeling my brain for a better title than “two-hundred steps home” but nothing has come forward yet – suggestions gratefully received!

New mini paintings for the Valentines Display at Art in the Heart

New mini paintings for the Valentines Display at Art in the Heart

I had hoped to finish the ebook ready for anyone who wants to catch up from the beginning but doesn’t want to wade through 31 posts but it seems my word document has lost some formatting so I need to re-read it from the beginning. That’s going to be frustrating because I don’t intend to edit the posts at this stage (aside from any missed typos). I want to keep it true to the blog for now. I’m going to have to sit on my hands as I’ve already found one continuity error (on Day 7 I write about the street light shining through Claire’s window but later I say she has blackout blinds). There are bound to be others.

Anyway I need to fight this cold off for half an hour more and write something about Claire’s next experience…

P.S. My husband took the kids for two hours this morning so I’ve got some sort of version of the January e-book going through Kindle review process although I haven’t yet written anything for the post. I have thirty minutes to my 10am deadline and husband and kids are at the end of their tolerance so might be another short one today!)

________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Ow!”

“Stop being such a girl.”

“I am a girl and that hurts!”

Josh looked up at Claire and shook his head. “What possessed you to take your hands off the handlebars anyway? You said you hadn’t been on a bike since you were a nipper.”

Claire lowered her head so her hair fell over her face. “I felt like I was flying. I wanted to sit up and feel the wind in my face.”

“Dingbat! Only the pros take their hands off on a cross-country track.” Josh dabbed at the blood pouring from beneath Claire’s ripped trousers.

“Oh look at my GAP jeans, they’re ruined.” Claire’s wail at the state of her clothes was louder than the cry of pain as Josh picked gravel from the wound.

“Nothing a patch won’t fix.”

“I am not putting a patch on my jeans. I might be reduced to sleeping in a bunk-bed and driving a rust bucket but I am not walking round with patches on my clothes.”

“Find yourself a Thrifty then. What do you call them here? A charity shop. That’s where most of my stuff comes from.”

Claire shuddered at the thought of wearing something already used and abused by someone else. It might be time to dip into my wages again. I couldn’t do this backpacking thing for real. She vowed to find a Mountain Warehouse or whatever at the next decent-sized town she came to. I’ll be buggered if I’m going to wreck my good clothes for Carl’s sake.

Josh applied a plaster to Claire’s knee and wiped her other scrapes and grazes with an antiseptic wipe.

“You’re pretty handy at that first aid thing,” Claire said. “I can’t stomach the sight of blood, even my own.”

“I used to work in a hospital back in Oz.” Josh’s voice was closed, preventing Claire from asking the questions that pushed at her lips.

“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day, Planning Lady?” He looked up brightly at her and then pushed himself to his feet to sit down next to her at the table.

“Move on to the next hostel. If I leave now I’ll be there before reception closes.”

“What is the next hostel?” Josh picked at some dirt under his nails.

“Well, the nearest one is a bunkhouse and I’ve decided to leave those until the summer – I have to come back for Wooler anyway – so I’m going on to Once Brewed.”

“Once Brewed? That’s the name of a hostel? Awesome! Count me in!” He turned to face her, his face split in a grin.

Claire took in his expectant expression, like a dog sitting at the fridge. Oh crap he wants to come with me. What do I do? Claire had some notion that backpackers spent a lot of time hitchhiking but she hadn’t equated that with taking anyone along with her. Can I bear to travel with someone? What if I can’t get rid of him?

While her brain churned Josh sat staring, his eyes boring into the side of her face. Oh what the hell. I can always leave while he’s asleep. It might be nice to travel with someone who knows how this hostelling thing works. It’s not like we’ll have to share a room. Most of the dorms have been single-sex so far.

She turned to face Josh, grinning at the expression on his face. “Sure, why not? Can you be ready to leave in an hour?”

“You bet!” Josh jumped up and went to leave the room. He stopped at the door, walked briskly back to Claire and gave her a quick, odoriferous, peck on the cheek. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been stuck in this damn place waiting for a lift out. You’re an angel!” He turned to leave again and Claire called out to him to wait. He turned anxiously.

“Josh? Take a shower.”

***

Interesting-looking articles

Waiting, Dragons, Tennis and Sleep

Wimbledon 2007 – photo by Kol Tregaskes on Flickr

Pictures of Love, my WIP, is out with beta readers. I’ve never had anyone but family or agents read my work before. The former have always loved it, the latter rejected it. So I wait with more than a small amount of trepidation.

To use the time well (hopefully) I have gone back to my Young Adult book, Dragon Wraiths, which I hope to enter in the Mslexia Children’s Novel competition in September. I had put the idea on hold, because the rules state: Women who have had a novel published commercially, for any age group, in any country, are not eligible.

As I hope to self-publish Pictures of Love in August, I figured that meant I couldn’t enter. But I read the rules again, more closely, and it says Self-published manuscripts are eligible, so it’s game on.

Only now I’ve read the rules again I’ve spotted that the entry is 3000 words with no synopsis.

Eek.

The dragons don’t come in until Part Two, a third of the way through the book, and the weighty stuff about global warming etc comes in Part Three, (assuming I can research enough by the September deadline; it’s a new addition to the story).

How can I get enough plot into 3000 words to hook a reader, and still have character development, voice, YA themes and all that jazz, without a synopsis? I guess I have to finish the first draft and see how much time I have left before I worry about it.

That’s if I can stay awake.

Youngest child has had an ear infection, together with a lovely temperature of 39.2 for days, so sleep has been a rare commodity all round. Husband and I have been staggering about sighing I’m so tired; so much so that it’s my eldest child’s favourite excuse every time she has the screaming heebie-jeebies (by the way, I love that Word has that in its dictionary!).

“But mummy I’m just so tired, that’s why I lashed out and threw something at you.”

I have to bite my tongue on snapping back, “You slept for ten hours last night, I’ve barely had that this whole week!”

One of the by-products of sleep deprivation is that I, too, become a tiresome three-year-old.

As a result, my return to writing today, after two weeks without penning a word, as I wrestled with Lulu printing and e-book formatting (posts to come), only lasted until lunchtime. Then I had to admit defeat, close the laptop and turn on the tennis. I saw about three shots before I fell asleep.

Now I’m walking the dog, hoping the rain and soggy trousers will wake me up enough to finish my chapter before I collect the kids.

Or I might go nap in front of Murray.

This is WriterMummy saying night night.

 

P.S. Can’t sleep. Murray is making me too nervous. Come on Murray, hold your serve!