Addicted to Artwork: 2013 365 Challenge #60

I need to learn to finish a book before I design the cover! 🙂

Okay so I really need to either a) start a business designing cheap book covers for people or b) remove Adobe Photoshop from my PC.

I spent a precious hour today trying to find the right image for my next self-publishing adventure – even though I haven’t finished proof-reading/editing the final draft yet. It was originally called Pictures of Love (and I did a cover for it, with a picture of a camera). But I decided it didn’t sell itself or its genre properly in the tiny image you get on Kindle.

I decided to come up with a more genre-appropriate title and book cover. I settled on Baby Blues & Wedding Shoes although I’m not sure that’s brilliant either. My original concept for the cover was to have it as an illustration, with a picture of a teddy or rattle and some nice white shoes… Then I discovered illustrations are expensive to buy (and book covers designers are even more expensive when you’re starting out and have no budget.) I tried to create it myself but after spending an hour photographing my son’s teddy and trying to Photoshop it next to an image of wedding shoes I gave up. Maybe I’m not a book cover designer after all (unless you want a nice stock photo with some lettering on it – good at that!)

So anyway, this is my attempt. I like the image but I’m not entirely sure it goes with the title (the image seems quite serious, which fits the book to some extent, but the title sounds like Chick Lit). I need to tweak the lettering too, as it disappears into the shadows at the bottom.

The more I try and get my head around marketing the more impressed I am with people like Nicola May and Susan Buchanan. Their covers are eye-catching and they have a distinct brand. Incidentally three of Nicola’s books are free today (I discovered on Twitter – see, I’m learning how to use it at last!) so go and grab them for kindle if they sound like your cup of tea. I haven’t actually read any books by either author – I came across them on Twitter only this week – but they do look my kind of read.

Of course all this self-publishing stuff came today because I uploaded the second volume of Claire’s exploits onto Smashwords. I can’t believe I’m at 50,000 words including today’s post. I can see how addicted self-publishing can be and how tempting it is to put a book out before it’s ready. If I didn’t know that Pictures of Love/Baby Blues & Wedding Shoes needs a good polish I’d be formatting it for Kindle as we speak! And as for the three other manuscripts languishing on my laptop, when am I going to get back to those? The more I go down this writing path the more I have utter appreciation for the skills and talents of others! It’s not a journey for the faint-hearted.

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Claire peered through the windscreen at the blue sign and swore. It was time to edge her way between the rows of traffic, to change lane and leave the motorway. Gritting her teeth Claire tried to see her mirrors through the lashing rain and cursed when she realised the wake of a passing lorry had pushed them out of position. She muttered a quick prayer and squeezed between two dirt-encrusted HGVs, wincing at the sound of horns as the rear one was forced to apply his brakes.

Her hands were shaking by the time she reached the exit and her temples ached. I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks. How can you forget how to drive like a normal human being in that time? Stupid car. I’d have been fine in my Audi.

She drove the familiar route into the city, relieved that the rain was beginning to stop. Even at midday the sky was dark, casting a gloomy light across the buildings and cars around her. Landmarks loaded with memories whisked past the window like luggage on a carousel. She exhaled. Not really the homecoming of the prodigal Marketing Director.

“Why the sigh?”

Claire looked at her passenger and gave a small shrug. “I didn’t think I’d be back so soon. Well, actually I did, but I thought it would be because Carl had changed his mind about trying to sack me or because I was booked on a flight to the Maldives, or…” She stopped.

Josh raised an eyebrow but she didn’t accept his invitation to elaborate. She wasn’t the one with explanations owing.

As the rain eased Claire was able to take some of her attention from staying on the road and apply it to the prickly problem sitting in her passenger seat.

“So, when are you going to tell me what this is really all about?”

Claire threw the words out there knowing they would fall on sterile soil. She’d tried to prise information out of Josh the night before, without success. Instead he’d introduced himself to Maggie and retreated back behind the backpacker persona. It had been the same at breakfast and during the two-hour rain-drenched journey to Manchester.

“Tell me why I am ferrying your arse to the airport to meet your wife when you won’t give me a damn thing.”

Josh hitched up his cheekiest smile and fluttered his eyelashes. “Because I’m a handsome Aussie bloke and you’re a swell Sheila who can’t resist me.”

Claire fought the grin but it crept across her face in betrayal.

“Ah ha see! No chick can withstand my charm.”

“And how are you going to explain that to Fiona?” Claire pictured their near kiss at the Observatory, thought about Beth and Chloe, and the anger returned.

“Your poor wife”, she bit out the words. “And children, I’m sure you mentioned children before you invoked your own Official Secrets Act.”

The smile dissolved from Josh’s face. Claire thought he was going to defend himself but he turned to look out the window. As she negotiated the busy streets into her home town she tried to ignore the growing tension. Do I push it or let him explain in his own time?

Angry words bubbled beneath the surface as she recalled the events of the previous evening. Josh’s highhanded summons, his shock revelation. Finding out he had kids after his avowed dislike of ankle-biters. Forgot to mention he had some of his own. Finding out he was married. What about all the women he’s come on to, for Christ’s sake, and done lord-knows-what with? What about me? How am I meant to face his wife at the airport? Just because nothing happened. It might have done. If he’d tried again. Which he hadn’t. Now she thought about it she had never actually seen Josh embracing anyone.

“You’ll have to talk to me eventually. You asked me to help you create a believable story for Fiona. I can’t do that if I don’t know the plot, or the key characters and their motivations.” She let her words hang in the air as she followed her Sat Nav to the hostel. She passed bars and shops that beamed like pictures in a family album.

I’m not here. No one can know I’m here.

Claire averted her eyes and gripped the wheel until her knuckles went white. A stab of sunlight broke through the clouds as she turned the car into a wide street bordered by three-story Georgian houses. Something sparkled ahead and Claire looked up to see the looming monstrosity of the Hilton Tower dominating the skyline. She was glad when the Sat Nav sent her right, down a cobbled street, and she spied the green triangle of the YHA.

Pulling into a parking space she cut the engine and sat with her hands resting on the steering wheel, waiting to see if Josh would say anything before they left the private cocoon of the car to join the cacophony of a busy city hostel.

She was about to open her door and get out when she heard Josh inhale and sensed he was about to break the silence.

His words fell between them like rocks.

“I don’t want to tell you. How can I?” The sharp edges of his voice rent the air. “How will you ever remain friends with me when I tell you I killed someone? I killed a child.”

***

Book Cover Design 101 OR, “That which does not kill me, makes me stronger” – Friedrich Nietzsche (thelindenchronicles.com)
Under the Covers (smalltownworld.wordpress.com)

Pancakes and a Paddling Pool: 2013 365 Challenge #59

A Paddling Pool full of Teddies: Spot the Children…

Today started with pancakes and paddling pool fun. When we haven’t had a chance to get outside for a while because of the nasty weather (our kids hate the cold) we inflate the paddling pool and fill it with soft toys.

Thankfully we have a big playroom as they spend most of the time running round the edge of the pool and diving into the teddies. Daddy rather loves it too. It’s about the only time I am at peace with the three laundry baskets of cuddly toys that clutter the playroom. The kids played ‘spot the child’ by hiding under the teddies. Can you find them both?

Pancakes for Breakfast (gets hubbie out of bed!)

Pancakes is one of the plus points of hubbie being unemployed. When I need to get him out of bed early I make pancakes. I’ve discovered there isn’t much he won’t do for a couple of stodgy thick maple-syrup-soaked circles of batter. Suits me. They’re easy to make and they contain less sugar than the usual breakfast the kids have, even with the syrup.

Daddy has taken the kids with him on his errand run this morning so I am of course torn between work, cleaning and dog walking. Think I will combine one and three by taking the dog on the 45-minute circuit and trying to come up with my bombshell/cliffhanger last post for February.

We’ve got a birthday party this afternoon – my favourite kind: DVD and pizza at a friend’s house. I’m sure it’ll descend into bedlam as it will consist of four families with ten children between them all who have known each other for years. I’m going to make flapjack with the kids and do a bath-with-hairwash before we go so I’ll probably be propped up in a corner trying to keep my eyes open!

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“Josh, what’s going on?” Claire had been watching the door to the lounge for two hours and the words launched themselves across the room without her volition. In her head the words had sounded hard-hitting but out in the open they whined like a nagging-wife. She inhaled through her nose and watched silently while Josh crossed towards her without making eye contact.

An aroma of smoke, cheap aftershave and sweat came with him, making Clare feel lightheaded, as if she’d been working late on an assignment for weeks on too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

“How’s your sister.”

“Okay, thanks. The surgery went well and she came round from the anaesthetic demanding tea and toast.”

“That’s good.” Josh nodded and looked around the room.

“Where are Beth and Chloe?” Claire winced at the sarcastic tone in her voice.

“I left them at Coniston. It’s complicated enough without them.”

“What is?” Claire wanted to stamp her foot. “What’s it all about Josh. You send me a cryptic email; expect me to stay on here just because you wish it, with no explanation. What gives?”

“I need… help.”

Claire felt as if she’d stepped off a curb. It took a moment for her to answer and when she did her voice was sceptical. “Help with what? I haven’t discovered anything you’re scared of. Certainly nothing I could assist you with.”

“I need you to help me tell a story. You’re good with words.” He let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped. He dug his hands into his pockets then pulled them out again. “Can I sit down?”

“It’s not like you to ask.” Claire patted the sofa next to her but Josh chose the one on an angle. He perched on the edge of the seat, leaned forwards and rested his elbows on his knees. He was close enough that Claire could feel his breath on her face. She guessed his lunch to have been spicy pot noodle and wondered if she could sit back without offending him.

His eyes were dark with worry and something else. Fear. A strong desire to hold him and shush him began to build in Claire’s chest. She ignored it, settling for loosely clasping his hands, mirroring his posture. She waited while he sat, head low. His hair flopped forwards and she would have pushed it back except it was too greasy to touch.

“You’re the closest thing to a friend I have.” Josh’s voice came, muffled, through the tangle of hair. Claire’s eyes opened wide but she kept her lips closed. He raised his head and pinned Claire with an intense look, as if urging her to listen without judgement.

“I’ve been running. Hiding. And now there is nowhere else to run. My family…” He swallowed and looked down again. When he raised his eyes they were red. “My family think I’ve been working. In a hospital in Manchester. Christies. I needed a fresh start and they think that’s it.”

“The haircut? The shirt?”

“Yes. I Skype when I’m in a city and can scrub up, but mostly I tell them I’m too busy.” He caught his lip between his teeth and looked over Claire’s shoulder.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since Christmas.”

“Oh.” Claire wasn’t sure what to say. She tried to imagine how she would feel if a family member disappeared for three months. Then she realised she’d only spoken to Robert once since Christmas and came to the conclusion she probably wouldn’t notice.

“So, you’ve been lying to your family and hiding overseas. I’m sure we’d all like to do that from time to time. Why the sudden urgency and where do I come in?”

“I need to tell the truth, or at least some of it.”

Claire wanted to say, which bit? The fact you’ve been living like Stig of the Dump trying to bed every woman you meet or the bit where you only shower and shave to convince your Mum you really are a hot-shot doctor in an English hospital. She remembered his advice when Ruth had called with her news. He really is a hot-shot doctor. Why the pretence? Forget Days of Our Lives, I’m turning into Miss Marple. She caught his anxious gaze and realised he was waiting for her to respond.

“Why now? Did you suddenly wake up with a conscience?”

Josh reeled from the words, his head snapping back as if from a physical blow. He dropped Claire’s clasp and ran a hand through his hair.

Claire’s eyes narrowed at his reaction, wondering if her words had been too harsh. She had only meant his lying to his Mum but now she wondered if he had more troubling his peace of mind than he had let on.

Josh cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He folded his arms and looked over to the window although the dark skies outside meant all that could be seen were reflections of the hostel lounge.

He cleared his throat again, freeing the words. “Fiona is flying over with the children. She’s going to be at Manchester Airport in 48 hours.”

“Who is Fiona?” Claire felt a flutter in her gut but ignored it. She didn’t want to be Miss Marple anymore.

“She’s my wife.”

***

You’ll find me in the Kitchen: 2013 365 Challenge #58

I’m still a Luddite when it comes to Twitter

I had my first real-time conversation on Twitter today. It feels like some sort of milestone, albeit a tiny one for the Social-Media Minded. I freely confess to being a Luddite where twenty-first century technology and communication is concerned. I love my blog and following other blogs. I love my personal Facebook account for seeing pictures of my niece and nephews and all my friends’ kids, holidays, pets, news etc. But the more hazy world of Twitter has always frightened and befuddled me. I used it merely for following one or two famous people I liked or getting a more frequent fix of funny from the various parenting blogs I follow. Some days you NEED funny!

My son refusing to eat his dinner. So cute…

It’s only recently, following the advice of Kristen Lamb, Jonathan Gunson and others offering advice on building an author platform, that I’ve ventured further into Twitter. I started by following agents and publishers, looking for hints and tips and competitions. Then I followed other bloggers and authors to see what they were saying. Too many were flogging their book every which way which I didn’t like.

Kristen (and others) tell us to think of Twitter as a cocktail party. You chat, you mingle, you share gossip and occasionally you might discuss work but not too often.I treated it like I would a real party: I hid in the kitchen by myself and eavesdropped on others who always seemed to be having way more fun.

Amber trying to cheer her brother up

Then today, yay, someone replied to one of my random parenting observations and we exchanged conversation. We made a brief connection. And I understood what Twitter could be if there weren’t so many people talking rubbish and bragging about their pay-cheque (if that metaphor stretches that far?)

Recently I’ve been trying to think of ways to tweet more often; to pick up followers and build my author platform. (Jonathan Gunson is full of great advice on his Twitter feed and Facebook page). But the only post on my blog this month that received no likes was the one featuring my Dragon Wraiths book cover and offer code. It might be a coincidence but I’m taking the hint. I don’t want to be the obnoxious one at the party being pushy, trying to sell my stuff. I’d like to sell some books but not my soul so until I’ve figured out how to do one without the other you’ll find me lurking by the fridge supping my G&T.

BTW: my son was being uber cute at dinner getting all grumpy and refusing to eat his sausages. He ate them in the end but I had to take a couple of pictures, especially as I knew I had no others for today’s post!

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“How come you’re staying in a hostel then if you come from Cumbria?” Claire cupped her hands round her mug and inhaled the scent of freshly-ground coffee. She watched Maggie through the rising steam.

“Oh I don’t live here now. I met my husband at school and we moved south. I come back while the kids are away, to indulge in nostalgia and stock up on gingerbread.”

“By yourself?” Claire didn’t mean to be inquisitive but the words were out before she could swallow them.

Maggie just smiled and brushed a stray hair away from her face. “Oh yes. Steve hates it up here in the spring. Too soggy. He says it takes him a month to dry out. I like the weather. Sometimes it’s nice to walk with the mizzling rain on your face keeping you cool. There are fewer tourists at this time of year too. You saw how busy the shop was today: imagine what it’s like in August.”

“Did you actually live here in Grasmere?”

“No, our place was out on the hills. I liked to come here as a child and wander through the graveyard. You know Wordsworth is buried near the Gingerbread Shop? The place is flooded with daffodils at this time of year. It’s beautiful, we should go there.” Maggie moved in her seat as if ready to flee the café and wander amidst wild daffodils for the rest of the day.

Please, God, no. I think I had my fill of Wandering Lonely as a Cloud during A Level English. She didn’t want to offend Maggie so she nodded absently as if the suggestion had been rhetorical.

“Has the place changed much?” Claire decided distraction was the best way to take Maggie’s mind off a tramp over the heads of a load of dead people.

“Well the Gingerbread Shop hasn’t changed but then it’s been the same for 150 years. As for the rest of Grasmere, it’s all got a bit posh to be honest. Not the place I knew when I was young, that’s for sure.”

Maggie chatted about growing up in Cumbria, about other local landmarks and famous people; Beatrix Potter and John Ruskin.

“I went to Brantwood,” Claire chipped in, feeling the same gratification she did when a question came up on University Challenge that she knew the answer to. “I bumped into an old school friend.” A frown pulled her face down before she felt it and forced her skin smooth.

“That’s the thing about staying in hostels, travelling around. You always bump into people you know in the most random places. I stayed in a hostel in New Zealand once and met a lad I knew from University. The hostel was out in the sticks, only ten beds in the place. We had to shoo sheep out the kitchen. You wouldn’t believe it if you read it in a novel.”

Claire nodded and was about to comment when her phone buzzed. The half-eaten scone from earlier dropped to the bottom of her stomach and her ears rang with rushing blood.

“Are you okay, you look pale?” Maggie reached a hand across the table and Claire jumped at her touch. “Was that your phone? Don’t mind me, you answer it.” Maggie sat back in her chair and gazed away as if giving Claire as much privacy as the busy café afforded.

She nearly dropped the phone as she picked it off the table and unlocked it. The buzz wasn’t a text message as she’d hoped but notification of an email. Claire was about to put the phone back next to her coffee cup when she noticed who the email was from.

What does he want?

Glancing up at Maggie she could see she was absorbed with her own thoughts. Claire quickly loaded her email and clicked open.

Claire, I need to see you. Are you still at Grasmere? Can you stay another night? J

“The cheek of him!” Claire only realised how loud she had spoken when the couple at the next table turned round. Her face flushed oven-hot and she dropped her head so her hair would shield her.

“I take it that wasn’t about your sister?” Maggie looked amused at Claire’s outburst.

“No, just some annoying bloke I met in Kielder. Being all cryptic and commanding.”

“Oh?” Maggie raised an eyebrow and dimples appeared in her cheeks.

Claire felt herself bristling at the expression, then she laughed. It felt good, like a spin class after a tricky board meeting. “It’s not romantic, if that’s what you mean. He’s a friend, as much as anyone is when you’ve known them a week or two. But he’s the most mysterious bloke. I wonder what he wants? Probably to cadge a lift somewhere. I’m pretty certain that’s the only reason he befriended me in the first place.”

“People make friends on the road for all sorts of reasons. The same as there are all sorts of reasons why people are on the road.” Her face grew distant and Claire wondered for the first time if Maggie had told her the truth about why she was travelling alone.

Honestly, I thought this was a simple work assignment. It’s starting to feel like an episode of Days of Our Lives.

She inhaled the scent of fresh coffee and banana bread and sat back in her chair. The sound of happy chattering and the splash of cars driving on rain-drenched roads outside the window wrapped around her like strands of pulsing life.

Still, it beats working for a living.

***

Project 365 (knitreadclick.wordpress.com)
Author Amanda Martin discusses her Daily Blog Challenge (writeontheworld.wordpress.com)
How to Sell 8 Million Books – by Jonathan Gunson (savvybookwriters.wordpress.com)

Seat of Pants and Insomnia: 2013 365 Challenge #57

Beans Coffee Shop, Oundle

I got yesterday’s post out by the seat of my pants after bumping into a friend in the coffee shop where I go to work. It was lovely to chat but I had scheduled my post to go live at 10.30 and she left around 10.10. As I hadn’t written a word of the ‘Claire’ section I had to tap something out super-speedy-fast. So apologies if it was a bit random. Today’s is going to be no different. I’m suffering from severe insomnia at present which means I can barely keep my eyes open once the children are in bed. It’s 9am and I’ve only just opened this post with no idea what is going to happen to Claire today. I’m only 2 days away from my February finale and I’m not sure it’s going to happen!

On a happy note I sold two copies of Dragon Wraiths through kindle yesterday, after I decided to chuck the manuscript on there while Smashwords were reviewing it for their Premium Catalogue. Just as well as it failed the review process by Smashwords due to ‘inconsistent formatting’. I thought it might. They’re very strict about the use of fonts and templates and I wasn’t able to reset the whole novel to ‘normal’ as they recommend because I would have lost track of who was talking in all the dragon dialogue scenes. It’s all part of the learning I guess. If I have a day and buckets of energy I might try and format it again, but for now it’s on Kindle (although I haven’t previewed it yet to see how awful the formatting is!) Anyway, on to Claire.

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“My sister’s having surgery today.”

Maggie looked up from her book and focussed on Claire as she spoke into the silent room.

“Oh my.”

Maggie paused as if unsure what else to say. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Claire sat motionless on her bunk considering the question. Did she? She wasn’t even sure why she’d blurted out the news to a stranger, except that Maggie seemed effused with warmth and kindness.

“No, not really. She’s having a brain tumour removed. I’d rather not think about it.”

Maggie snapped her book shut and pushed off the bed. “Well then, what you need is some fresh air and Grasmere Gingerbread.”

“What?” Claire reeled from the sudden movement, her sleep-deprived brain struggling to process the change of speed.

“Grasmere Gingerbread. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it?”

Claire shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat.

Maggie laughed gently and walked over to sit on the bunk next to Claire. She put her arm around her and squeezed, as if they’d known each other for years rather than hours.

“No need to look so crestfallen, it’s hardly a sin. We’re rather proud of our local shop, that’s all.”

“Oh are you from round here?” Claire considered Maggie’s Queens English. “You don’t sound, erm, Cumbrian?” She hesitated, hoping she hadn’t offended her new acquaintance.

“Haha no I don’t have the local dialect. My parents sent me to school in Leicestershire. So, how about it?”

Claire looked puzzled, trying to keep up. It felt like listening to the news from the bottom of a pond.

“The walk? To The Grasmere Gingerbread Shop?”

Claire nodded and let Maggie pull her up from the bed.

The air outside bit deep, cutting into Claire like a Sabatier knife. She huddled into her coat and tucked her chin into her collar. The landscape was flat and muted like a sepia photograph.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

Maggie strode off, head high, arms swinging. Claire scurried after her and hoped it wasn’t a long walk. She felt like a small child trying to keep up with her mummy. Maggie seemed to realise she was walking alone and turned to see what had happened to Claire.

She laughed at the bundle of misery scuttling behind her. “Sorry Claire, I’m in hill-walking mode. I’ll slow down.”

“You walk across hills at that speed? Are you superhuman?”

“Just bred to it. My parents are avid hill-walkers.”

“My dad plays golf.”

The shop was dark and bustling with tourists browsing such delights as Kendal Mint Cake and Rum Butter. It felt like a sauna after the bitter wind outside. Claire soaked the heat into her bones and let the noise wash over her. She could imagine Sky in a place like this, jumping up and down to see over the counter and through the bodies of people queuing to buy their gingerbread.

Maybe I could bring her hostelling with me. At least she’d be company.

Maggie was explaining the history of the shop, how it was set up in the 1850s by Sarah Wilson a local lady. How she lost both her daughters to tuberculosis and her husband shortly after. Although said in a matter-of-fact tone, the words sank into Claire like lead-weights.

What if I lose Ruth? I barely know her. How much time have we spent together since we left home? Hardly any.

She felt the guilt surge up her throat and lodge in the back of her mouth. The heat of the room pressed in until she had to get out. She shouldered her way through the mingling people and pushed through the door. The winter air slapped her in the face, numbing her senses and causing her eyes to water.

Standing outside the tiny cottage Claire pulled freezing air into her lungs and stared around without seeing. She heard the click of the door behind her and felt an arm around her shoulders.

“Sorry, that was insensitive of me. I was so caught up in the history I forgot about your sister. You must be very worried. There’s a garden centre just down the road. Let’s go for a cup of coffee and you can tell me about it.”

Claire let herself be comforted. Let herself be led away like a lost child.

***

Cheeky Monkees and Colouring Competitions: 2013 365 Challenge #55

My Entry into our unofficial Colouring Competition

Busy day. Started at 4am and never really recovered. Took my daughter to Cheeky Monkees, an indoor play centre, for a birthday party and spent an hour being a hamster in a cage with a bunch of four-year-olds. After the fifteenth time down the bumpy slide I was ready to crawl in the ball pit and go to sleep. The problem with birthday parties that start at 10am is that you’re pooped by the time you get home and it’s still only lunchtime!

We watched Bedknobs and Broomsticks with the kids during our quiet time, but we think they’re a bit young still. Amber recognised the Professor as the Dad from Mary Poppins but that was about it. The Cartoon bit was much shorter than we remember! I wonder if sometimes these old things from our childhood are better off left there, although they do love Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and of course Mary Poppins. My daughter can confidently say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (can’t believe I spelt it right on my first attempt!). Not sure if that’s a recognisable developmental stage but it sounds impressive!

Hubbie’s Entry into our Colouring Competition

By 2pm we were climbing the walls so took the kids to our local Garden Centre, Dobbies, to see the fish (they have an aquarium) and have cake.

While we were having cake the four of us indulged in some colouring with the sheets and crayons they provide. My husband and I rather enjoy colouring and can get a bit competitive although we try not to show the children! My challenge was to make new colours with the four basic colours provided while my husband went for texture. It keeps us amused at any rate!

Had a repeat performance of the Peppa Pig Rocket Incident when it was time to go, with little man sobbing uncontrollably at having to leave. He needs to run and it’s been snowing all day so we hadn’t been outside. In the end I calmed him with a promise of scootering and walking the dog. We duly bundled up and braved the light snow and he promptly face-planted on the pavement and had to be carried most of the way round, complaining that the wind made his face freeze and his nose run. It is just so bitter; my daughter spends half the day saying “I miss summer.”

Don’t we all.

I try very hard not to wish time away. I know the present is precious and summer will come when it’s ready but we had such an awful summer here last year it feels like winter has lasted ten months already! It pretty much rained from the day the water company instigated a hose pipe ban last Easter! Let’s hope they don’t do the same again this year.

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“I have to get going.” Claire pushed up from the sofa then stumbled and caught herself on the arm.

“When did you last eat?” Josh looked up and it seemed like he was staring from the bottom of a well. Claire was glad she didn’t know the memories consuming him. His face was a thin mask over a deep pit of pain.

“I had the hot chocolate when we finished our kayak. I’m not sure after that.”

Josh checked his watch. “It’s 6pm. You need to eat lady.”

Claire frowned. “No, I need to leave. I’m not meant to be here, I’m booked into Grasmere tonight.” She looked around the lounge as if trying to locate her rucksack before remembering it was loaded in the Skoda already.

“You’re leaving? Must you move every night? It’s not great, you know. You’ll never meet people, get the hostelling vibe, if you check out at 10am every day.”

“I met you didn’t I? Besides, I’m not here to meet people, I’m here to work. I have to get round 200 hostels and then I’m free. It’s meant to take a whole year but I didn’t sign anything. I just want to go home.” Her voice trailed off and she was conscious of a whiney tone in it last heard coming from Sky’s mouth. She inhaled deeply and forced a smile. “Besides, it looks like I’ll be taking a week or two out to look after my niece.”

“Surely she can stay in the hostels with you? Kids love that sort of thing and from what I can tell most of the YHA ones are kid-friendly. More’s the pity.”

Claire got the impression the last words were added because they were expected rather than from heartfelt belief. She shook off the thought and responded to Josh’s words.

“Look after a child in one of these places? It’d be a nightmare. She’d probably fall out her bunk-bed and end up in A&E. Besides, there are hardly any hostels near my sister’s house.”

“You have a car don’t you? Sheesh girl it’s all problems and no solutions with you.”

Claire bristled at his tone, chewed over some choice phrases to respond with, then decided she didn’t have the energy for a fight. She tilted her head slightly and looked him in the eye before turning to head for the door.

“Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. My head’s all over the place.” Josh hurried to keep up and walked to the door with Claire.

“So, where to after Grasmere?”

“Why, are you worried that you’ll bump into me again or do you think you’ll get tired of the gruesome twosome?” Claire glanced over to where Beth and Chloe were playing charades and giggling.

“They’re just having fun, Claire, lighten up.” Then he seemed to remember their earlier conversation. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a jerk.” He ran his fingers through his hair, cursing as they caught on a knot. “I, er, look, let me give you my email address. If you have any questions, you know, about your sister, you can drop me a line.” He patted his pockets for a pen.

Claire pulled out her phone and loaded a new contact. “Fire away.”

Josh recited his address, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He reminded Claire of a guilty school boy giving his contact details to a copper.

She finished typing and stood waiting to see if Josh had anything else to say. He merely stood, hands still concealed, shoulders hunched. He looked up at her through his tangle of hair, his expression inscrutable.

“Well, bye then. Maybe see you again.”

Josh nodded and gave a half-smile. “You take care, city girl.”

Claire nodded once and walked away without looking back.

***

Video of the Week: Dick Van Dyke and The Vantastix Sing “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” (boneaubryanbrown.com)

Blue tummies, yellow bath: 2013 365 Challenge #54

Bath Paints: made with cornflour and food colouring

Out of sheer desperation I came up with the idea of Bath Art today.

Aaron was refusing to exit the Peppa Pig rocket they have at our local supermarket (after being a complete star all during a weekly food shop and lunch at a busy supermarket: Who knew it was still half term in our local town?)

As I toyed with the idea of breaking my own rule and putting another £1 into the Peppa Pig toy (it is cool – the rocket spins and there are buttons to press which illuminate different planets on a map of the solar system) I began going through a list of other more appealing activities to tempt him home.

The conversation went something like this:

“Playdough?”

“No!”

“Painting?”

“No!”

“Football?”

“No!”

“Space-hoppering?”

“No!”

“Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?”

“No!”

Bath Art: An experiment (next time maybe I’ll just use paint!)

That was the point at which I knew I could ask “Chocolate Cake?” and he’d say “No!” because he’s going through that phase. One of the ones your brain erases, like childbirth, because otherwise you’d never do it twice.

Actually, when Amber went through her ‘Why? / No!’ phase (as I like to call it) Aaron was already six months old so it was too late to send him back. Now I have a why/no toddler and a sulky ~~teenager~~ four-year-old.

Joy.

So my beleaguered brain remembered something I’d read on a parenting blog somewhere about making paints and taking them in the bath. Genius. At the time I thought the woman was mad but I was all out of other ideas on four hours’ sleep.

I made the paints out of cornflour and food colouring. Don’t know why I didn’t just use poster paint except I’m not a big fan and I had no idea if it would stain the grout/bath/children. As it turns out, food colouring stains grout/bath/children too, although not permanently thankfully. A second bath of bubbles eventually washed off the blue tummies and mostly erased the yellow scum tidal mark. Got rid of all the hot water too but that was a small price to pay on a day when it was bitter outside and Mummy and Daddy had zero energy.

Bath Art 2: Aaron's End (please ignore filthy grout!)

Bath Art 2: Aaron’s Masterpiece

At least I managed to write half an installment while walking the dog this evening (before my fingers became too cold to tap-tap) so hopefully it won’t be too painful to write the rest when the kids are in bed. I will have to search for a possible continuity error though as I’ve been writing recently about Ruth as Claire’s ‘little’ sister but I think Claire’s the youngest.

NB I was right, Claire is meant to be the youngest, so have changed one word in an old post from ‘little’ to ‘poor’. The challenges of writing and publishing on a daily basis!

I’m sneaking five minutes now to write this bit while the kids watch Mike the Knight with Daddy. I can’t stand Mike the Knight. If he was my child I’d be horrified, although I guess he always comes good in the end.

Oh, it’s finished. Time to go…. Ah. Both kids want Mummy to put them to bed. It’s going to be one of those nights. TTFN.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

“Still sulking Claire? Aren’t you a bit old to be acting like a silly schoolgirl?”

Claire looked up at Josh and tried to make sense of the sounds coming out of his mouth. Sulking, school girl, Sky, Ruth, sister. The words marched through her consciousness without leaving a mark. She felt rather than saw Josh lean over and peer into her face.

“Have I really upset you? Is it because we soaked you at the lake today? You looked cute: like a little kitten who’d toppled into a bath.”

Claire looked at the phone cradled in her lap and tried to absorb what Josh was saying.

He sat next to her on the sofa and his voice washed around her like a warm wave. He talked into her silence but the words barely registered. Something about it being lonely on the road and that maybe running away was the wrong thing to have done.

Run away. I’d like to do that. I’m sure Ruth would too.

“You can’t run away from cancer,” she said, her voice alien and weak.

“What?” Josh’s response was curt. The harsh tone surprised Claire, momentarily dragging her out of her bewilderment.

“What?” She echoed him without understanding.

“You said you can’t run away from cancer, what did you mean by that?”

She turned to face him and fell into the blackness of his eyes. Shaking off feelings she couldn’t process, Claire said quietly “My sister has a brain tumour. They’re operating in the morning. She needs me to look after her six-year-old daughter for a week or two at Easter while she has chemo. Is there anything else you need to know?”

Josh moved to the edge of the sofa, his face white. “Did she say whether it was primary or secondary? What part of the brain is it in?” His voice was clipped and business like. “Where is she being treated?”

“Addenbrookes,” Claire responded, finally hearing a question she could answer. “How do you know to ask all those things?” Claire had sat mute as her sister broke the news, her brain empty and cavernous.

“Oncology is – was – my specialism.” Josh spoke the words as if they pained him.

“What’s Onc-whatever you said?”

“Treatment of cancer.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was.”

Claire looked at Josh. He’s not much older than me. What gives? Part of Claire wanted to pursue the thought, but curiosity about Josh’s past was soon swamped by her present worries. She wished she could recall everything Ruth said on the phone so she could ask Josh what it all meant. As hard as she tried to remember her sister’s words only two sentences were chiseled into her memory. I need you to take Sky and It’s malignant, they’re going to operate tomorrow.

Josh and Claire sat together on the sofa, close but not touching. Around them the hostel bustled with chatter. Beth’s laugh echoed from behind them, where a raucous game of Trivial Pursuit was underway. Each lost in their own thoughts, the two almost-strangers sat in silence.

***

Dragon Wraiths Dreaming: 2013 365 Challenge #53

New cover design for Dragon Wraiths – almost ebook ready

I had an unscheduled filling in my tooth this morning so have spent my nursery day curled up on the sofa feeling pathetic. My dentist is 38 weeks pregnant and will be off for six months so she offered to fill the hole she discovered at my routine check up right then. Unfortunately I had breakfast early today (woke at 5.30am when the baby alarm went off because son’s bedroom was so cold) and the numbing injection gave me the shakes. Bless them they were rushing round trying to find me a glucose tablet. Note to self: eat fewer sweeties! (I eat all the ones the kids get in party bags and don’t like. You know, the sticky ones that you don’t want them eating anyway because they’re so bad for their teeth!)

Actually I’ve put my need to huddle under a blanket to good use by working on formatting Dragon Wraiths for self-publishing. I have had long debates about whether to self-publish it or not and in the end I ran out of reasons not to. I still want an agent and a publisher’s deal but in the meantime I may as well see if anyone actually wants to read it! Besides, I had a lot of fun working on the front cover. It isn’t perfect but better than my previous two designs.

The need to do the marketing has put me off in the past but if I’m not worried about it being an overnight success there is no pressure. If it sells a few copies great. If people borrow it from the libraries (I’ve set it as free to libraries) and are moved to leave feedback, well that will be marvellous. If nothing else it is all great formatting practice. Who knows, I might end up making my money earning $40 a time editing books for Smashwords (although I can think of easier ways to make $40!)

Anyway, as a result of my early start, aching jaw and editing frenzy, today’s post is likely to be another short one rather than my normal meaty nursery-day fare. I want to write some witty banter between Beth, Chloe and Josh for Claire to witness but I can’t recall any Canadian and Irish idioms so I may not manage it. I find it really hard writing dialogue in any other ‘tone’ than my own middle-class-white-English.

[Apropos nothing it turns out there’s a new Rolls Royce called a Wraith. Better than the Microsoft Office 365 that keeps appearing in my suggested related articles list!]

Update: Dragon Wraiths is now live, hurrah! Anyone interested in reading it can download it free for the next week, using the following promotion code:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/287131

Promotional price: $0.00
Coupon Code: NM53X
Expires: February 28, 2013

You have to sign up to Smashwords to download it I think but you can read the 20% sample without logging in.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

“Come on Claire, keep up.”

Claire glared at the V-shape of people in front of her as Beth, Chloe and Josh powered across the lake. Training hadn’t been so bad and Claire had been thrilled with how quickly she had mastered the art of propelling the craft strapped to her hips. Her bubble of happiness quickly deflated when they reached the open water and her so-called companions left her rocking gently in their wake.

Refusing to capsize through trying to catch up, Claire concentrated on getting her technique right and on ignoring the blisters forming across the pads of her palms.

“That’s it Claire, great, you’re getting the hang of it. For a first-timer you’re doing brilliantly.”

Claire turned to smile at the instructor and her paddle stuck in some weed. It wrenched sideways, nearly tipping her out of her kayak.

Eyes forward, Claire. Josh will pee his pants laughing if you take a dip in this freezing pond.

“This is grand!” Beth’s voice floated back across the water as she and Chloe prodded at each other with their paddles, each trying to put the other in the lake.

“Your friends seem a right craic, how long have you been travelling together?”

Claire looked back carefully, trying to locate the source of the new voice without tipping herself over.

“I’m not travelling with them. As far as I can tell they all met yesterday on the bus over from Keswick. I met Josh last week a bit further north.”

“Really? They seem like buddies from way back. That’s travelling for you, I guess.” The man deftly paddled forward until he was alongside Claire’s red kayak. He waved a salute and said, “name’s Charlie.”

“Claire.” She nodded in return and tried not to clash her paddle against his.

The void of conversation yawned between them, demanding to be filled. She didn’t feel like chatting but it was obvious that the man wanted to talk and, besides, Josh and the girls were too far ahead for anything but a bellowed exchange of words. She groped for something to say.

“Are you travelling with friends?”

“Nah I’m going solo. Just a month or three before I head back to Ireland to find a job. It aint easy right now, specially not in Dublin. Thought I’d have a bit o’ fun before I have to get me hands dirty.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a chef. Or leastways that’s what I’m trained fer. What I’ll be doing back in Dublin is anyone’s guess.”

“Is there not much work in catering?” Claire listened to her words and wanted to Eskimo-roll into the lake. No wonder the others have buggered off. Could you be any more boring?

If her new friend found her question obvious or dull he was either too polite or too shocked to let on.

“There’s not much work of any sort. Times is hard. Not a great time to be looking for paid employment.”

Claire shivered beneath her waterproofs. I hope that doesn’t apply to me. Her head was already full of images of starting a new job since her arrival at the activity centre with Josh and his mini-harem. Claire wasn’t sure how much more adrenalin-seeking, or rubbing shoulders with strangers, she could willingly do, no matter how much she wanted not to fail.

“What is it you do?” The man threw out the question between puffs as he paddled to keep up with Claire who had veering off to the left.

“I work in… marketing.” She hoped he hadn’t notice the tiny hesitation. Lord only knows what it is I do these days?

As often happened when Claire told someone in a vocational career what she did for a living, the man’s face went blank. His lips opened and shut slightly as he sought something interesting to say in response.

“That’s nice.”

Claire chuckled under her breath and held her paddle aloft as a wake from a passing boat rocked the kayak. I guess no one knows what people in marketing actually do, least of all people in marketing. Play with pretty pictures and read papers, I think that’s the general consensus. What about kayaking across a freezing lake in the north of England, or dangling from a tree suspended by a rope and harness? Abseiling down a waterfall? Sharing a room with five other women, some of whom have only a passing relationship with shower gel. Are they things I can puff-off on my CV?

The sound of splashing shook Claire from her reverie and she looked up just in time to get a face-full of water from Josh’s paddle as he swung round beside her.

“Thanks. As if I wasn’t cold enough.”

“Lighten up cranky, what’s eating you? You’ve been chillier than a penguin’s arse since we pitched up yesterday. If you really wanted to ditch me you should have headed to Liverpool like you said.”

“Would that be better? Am I cramping your style?”

“Ha, it’d take more than a jealous Sheila to cramp my style.”

“Jealous? I’m not jealous. If you choose to hook up with every woman under the age of fifty that passes your way that’s no concern of mine.”

Claire dipped her paddle in the water and pushed her craft forwards, concentrating on her technique so Josh had nothing else to sneer at. The sun shone overhead but didn’t penetrate the waterproof and life-jacket she was bundled in. Claire lowered her head and pictured the mug of hot chocolate waiting for her when they returned to the activity centre.

Josh paddled alongside her in silence for a few minutes before clucking his tongue and digging his paddle in deep. He was soon several lengths ahead and the sound of his laughter mingled with Chloe and Beth’s as the three of them splashed each other like naughty schoolchildren.

***

Self-Publishing vs.Traditional Publishing: I’m Choosing Both (creativemysteries.wordpress.com)

Cantankerous Caterpillar: 2013 365 Challenge #52

Painted Lady butterfly (Vanessa cardui) to Evelyn Simak

Painted Lady butterfly (Vanessa cardui) – Evelyn Simak

It’s no secret that I battle with depression. Today was one of those days when my shoulder blades itched with the need to break free of my chrysalis and experience metamorphosis To fly away as a carefree butterfly and leave the grump, the anger and the tears behind.

Today was one of those days when I felt suffocated by the demands of parenthood and withered by the self-loathing and guilt that accompanies trying not to yell every second. The kids weren’t even being particularly naughty. When I’ve had a few weeks without proper sleep the depression creeps to the surface and only a solid 4-6 hours of continuous unbroken slumber will bury it again.

On days like today the skin over the bubbling rage is thin and it leaks out. It flashes as a yell when a simple ‘no’ would do and then it’s gone as quickly as it came. Words come too sometimes as if the bubbling pit is linked to my trapped creativity. Although as I write that I wonder if I have read too many literary or sci-fi novels and actually life is a bit less fanciful, a bit more prosaic, and maybe it’s the sleep deprivation waffling on.

Actually I have discovered why my story ideas haven’t been coming so freely recently, aside from germs and sleep deprivation. My two tools – my phone and walking the dog – have been sporadic. I have a new phone but haven’t got round to swapping over to it because every time I think about it the old phone works just fine. And then when I need to write something the phone freezes and won’t let me in. Also, due to illness and poorly knee, hubbie has been walking dog for weeks.

Janet and Emily on 90-Mile Beach, NZ

I needed to escape the house today, before I did any more unnecessary shouting, so I’m walking the dog (and writing as I walk, hurrah).

I’ve had lots of ideas about Claire’s journey. I won’t put spoilers in, not now I know at least one person is interested in how the plot is developing (The lovely Carly over on One Wild Word has written a post about me today. *Blush*.) But I think it’s time to explore Claire’s relationship with other women. Apart from Kim she doesn’t really have friends. Josh might have a new companion for Claire to be initially jealous of then buddies with.

When I think of my own travels the part I enjoyed the most was in the early days, before I was comfortable travelling alone, when I took two girls with me in my car: Janet (an Irish girl) and Emily (a Canadian). The first three weeks in the Coromandel with them was a completely different experience to the rest of my year away.

Me and Mitsy, my trusty rust bucket

Like Claire I didn’t leave school or uni with a strong friendship network – most of my friends are ex boyfriends – and I’ve never really understood why. Claire isn’t me and her travel companion(s) won’t be Janet or Emily but they might be Irish or Canadian. I don’t base my characters on real people but I do write what I know and I do borrow sensations and experiences from my own life. Why not? They’re the most real things I can write about. I take the things from my life and relive them through my protagonist’s eyes, so the experiences are subtly different to my own. That way no one is offended and I get to explore my life through someone else. It’s all good cathartic stuff!

_______________________________________________________________________________________

“Hey Joshy, they’ve got a room with three beds. You wanna share with Chloe and me?” The voice broke off as it came closer. “Oh, didn’t mean to interrupt. You okay? I’m Beth.”

Claire sat mute as the bouncing ball of curly blonde hair burst into the room and galloped over to where Josh stood gazing down at her, a wry smile still on his face. He turned as Beth approached spilling words like a gill after heavy rainfall. His smile widened and Claire felt a tug behind her ribs at the warmth it contained.

It’s only been 48 hours since I left him at Keswick, how pally can they be? A quick mental tally revealed the startling information that she’d only known Josh for just over a week. I guess time is different when you’re with someone 24-7 and experiencing new things. A bit like hostages or people stranded on a broken bus. Not that Claire had any idea what either experience might be like, but she had read about such things.

Silence spread through the lounge and Claire realised Beth was waiting for her to return the greeting.

“Oh. I’m Claire. Hello, nice to meet you. Are you travelling together?” She tried to keep the jealous note of enquiry out of her voice but something in Josh’s smirk suggested she wasn’t entirely successful.

Beth laughed. “Nah we met on the bus. It takes a long time from Keswick, we had time to chat then and on the walk up. You two old mates?”

It was Claire’s turn to laugh although it sounded brittle in her ears. “Not really, I met Josh a week or so ago, at Kielder.”

“You two Sheila’s don’t mind me.” Josh held up his hands, palms forward, and took a step back, as if giving the girls space to discuss him at length.

Beth giggled and Claire rolled her eyes. “Just being polite Josh, that’s all. What made you guys head over to Coniston? There doesn’t seem to be much going on.” She flushed at the note of hostility in her words and glanced down at the iPad on the pretence of turning it off, letting her heavy hair swing across her face.

“We’re booked on a kayak trip tomorrow.” Beth perched on the arm of the sofa and pushed her unruly curls behind her ears. They immediately sprang back, giving her the look of a cheerful daisy. “Chloe and I fancied getting out on the water and the weather’s meant to be grand.”

Oh great. I’m going to have the chirpy threesome on my kayak trip unless maybe they booked somewhere else.

“Are you kayaking on Coniston?” Claire tried to sound interested rather than nosy.

“Sure, there’s a place nearby somewhere.” Beth glanced out the window as if expecting to see the kayak centre nestled in the hostel grounds.

“It’s not far away. I can give you a lift if you like, assuming we’re booked on the same trip.” The words were out before she could stop them. Damn.

“You’re going kayaking Claire?” Josh looked up from picking his nails and raised an eyebrow. “That boss of yours been turning the screw again?”

Warmth flooded through Claire at Josh’s words. Having someone, even a philandering Aussie, know about her predicament made her feel connected to the world.

“No, nothing new from Carl. But, you know, I have to find something for the blog. I even did a Treetop Trek yesterday.”

Something akin to respect appeared on Josh’s face. “You? Little Miss ‘I didn’t know I was terrified of heights’? Good on yer, Claire. And now you have a hankering for some paddle action?”

Claire wasn’t about to admit she fancied winter kayaking about as much as being nibbled to death by mice.

“Oh yes, just call me the kayak queen.”

“Sweet.”

***

Scootering and the School Run: 2013 365 Challenge #51

Glapthorn Road, Oundle in the sun (Photo by Peter Whatley)

Glapthorn Road, Oundle in the sun – but without the mass of scootering children! (Photo by Peter Whatley)

Another day when I’m glad of my deadline buffer. I normally write posts the night before but give myself until 10am the following morning. It’s currently 8am and I’ve only just opened my laptop. Gorgeous wonderful hubbie is downstairs feeding the children. I probably have thirty minutes before there is something urgent they have to ask mummy about… Best get on with it then!

The reason I didn’t start yesterday is because I had a day in the life of a Town Mum and by 8pm could neither stand, walk or speak I was so tired.

I’m used to driving the children everywhere because I live out in the sticks. I think I’m pretty fit but nothing tests your stamina like carrying a 14kg child for about a mile on the school run because he fell off his new scooter almost instantly and wouldn’t get back on. I think my left arm is twice the length of the right one now!

Scootering at the park is much easier than on the school run

Thankfully when my wonderful daughter face-planted the pavement, after being flipped off her new scooter, and grazed her nose and chin she battled on bravely (after a most impressive screaming fit) and did the whole journey, dodging tree roots, uneven paving and about 100 other kids all spilling out from school, half of them also on Micro scooters.

I used to envy my friends for living in town but the school run was a whole new experience. And it was sunny and warm. I can’t imagine what it’s like in the snow and ice! Maybe I’ll stop dreaming up ways we can afford a house in town and stick to ferrying my kids around by car with trips to the park on the way home.

Actually the kids were amazing all day, and were suitably rewarded with ice cream and pizza for tea (in that order!) I ended up helping my friend with a piece of work on the computer for several hours while my two played with her daughter and they didn’t break anything. I found my (2 year-old) son tucked up in my friend’s bed with her daughter (she’s 4, same as Amber) and all they had done was tip water on the duvet. Given her make-up bag was right there it could have been much worse!

Spending too much time on social media and not enough with the kids…

The only bit of the day that left me sad was reading a blog post by Allaboutmanners on how a working mum can stay present and focussed on her children rather than being distracted by technology all the time. I know I’m not getting the balance right at the moment. My kids are always telling me off for checking emails or “just doing this load of laundry” / “just feeding the dog” / “just running the hoover round”.

I used to get more chores done on nursery days (particularly when I had three days a week to do them) and now I feel they rarely get my undivided attention because there are always a zillion things that need doing. I read the blog post on my phone while watching the kids in my friend’s playroom so it caused the worst kind of guilt!

I’ve been thinking about it a lot since and the guilt has diminished a bit. I know I don’t have the balance right, but I also know it is very difficult to remain present for any length of time with toddlers and preschoolers unless that’s your vocation. If my children have my undivided attention they play up against each other, and there is always one that isn’t happy. If I drift off and do work sometimes they moan but sometimes they go and play beautifully together, like they did at my friend’s house yesterday. I may not always make them feel the most special beings in the universe but I do teach them that the world doesn’t always revolve around them and to find their own entertainment. Weighed up in the balance I feel it’s better than an artificial life of either 5-day-nursery-care or 5-day-Mummy-attention. Anyway, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it! 🙂

Ooh, it’s 8.29am, look at all my waffle. I’d better find out where I left Claire and move her on to her next challenge, whilst also trying to ignore the crying and screaming downstairs….

________________________________________________________________________________________

Claire looked round towards the door at the sound of voices approaching the hostel. She knew that no one she wanted to see was likely to walk in and still she looked. Just because I’m still in the Lakes doesn’t mean he’s going to turn up. There must be at least twenty hostels in Cumbria and, besides, this isn’t Casablanca.

She turned back to the iPad and concentrated on finding something interesting to say about John Ruskin her trip to Brantwood

I can’t really put ‘bumped into catty old school friend in the most random place today and it turns out she hated me as much as I hated her. Isn’t life funny?’

What else to write though? It was hardly a high-adrenalin activity wandering round a museum or supping a latte in the café.

If I’m going to keep my job I need blog traffic. I can’t give Carl an excuse to call this venture a failure. She thought about making up an adventure but knew she’d get found out in a heartbeat. There might be only ten people following my blog but if I say I walked Striding Edge this morning and I didn’t you can bet they’ll know someone who was up there or I’ll get the weather wrong.

Claire gazed around the hostel lounge, taking in the stylish fireplace and soothing décor, and felt pleased with herself for stumbling across it in the guide book. She’d been flicking through trying to find a hostel that wasn’t a bunkhouse and her eye had stopped at what she thought was the Holy Cow hostel. Smiling she had thumbed back through the pages and was disappointed that it actually said Holly How. I prefer my version.

Claire heard voices outside the lounge door and the hairs on her arm rose. Just because it’s an Australian accent doesn’t mean anything. You’re worse than a teenager at a school disco. Give it up and write your damn blog.

Tapping at the iPad Claire wrote some purple prose about the views from Brantwood and included a couple of inspirational Ruskin quotes. The voices in the hallway grew louder and then diminished, as the new arrivals dispersed to their various dorm rooms. It sounded like a bus-load had arrived and Claire hoped only the quiet ones were heading for her dorm. It had been empty when she arrived and she’d had a sneaky hope that it might remain that way.

I knew that was too much to ask.

Claire bent her head over her phone, searching through her photos to find one suitable for the blog. She heard someone enter the lounge but forced herself not to look up.

The newcomer walked across the room and stood near the sofa without speaking. Still Claire refused to look up. She knew she was being rude, breaking some kind of hostelling rule by not welcoming the new arrival. She heard the stranger clear their throat, then laugh.

“Hey Claire. Saw the rust bucket outside in the car park. Not in Liverpool then?”

Heart thudding, Claire at last looked up and felt a surge in her chest that wouldn’t have embarrassed her teenage self. Her face spread in an involuntary grin as she gazed at the tanned skin and dirty-blonde hair.

“Hi Josh.”

***

Win a Micro-Scooter School Bag (northernmum.com)
Children driven 500 yards to school – Confused.com (confused.com)
Children learn by example (imconfident.wordpress.com)
Slow down mummy (chatterboxmediauk.wordpress.com)
That work-life balance again… (birthandbabynetwork.com)
Working mummy! (sophieillustration.co.uk)

Finally at Fifty! 2013 365 Challenge #50

Humpty Dumpty basking in the sun in our garden

I can’t believe I have reached day fifty of my 365 challenge. There were days I didn’t think I’d get through the first month. Now I’m 42,000 words and fifty days in.

I am beginning to see a pattern between my mood and the posts, with the daily installments getting darker and duller recently as the cold/cough/flu thing that’s been dragging me down continues. I’m finally starting to feel better today – the sun has shone since Friday, I’ve had some time home alone and it feels like Winter might finally be on its way out.

Definitely time for a more light-hearted post. If I can remember how! Back in the beginning I wrote a post about Writing Funny and I haven’t found any more answers since then.

The sun is shining outside the window, hurrah!

My main question is why people like the posts they do: is it because of the Claire installment or my daily diary/diatribe?

My last post was reblogged (thank you allaboutmanners) and I wouldn’t have said either section was particularly entertaining. I guess it’s like the whole head-shot debacle (see previous post). We will never know what it is others see in us/our photos/our writing and it will always be something different to what we see ourselves.

I guess the trick is either not to care or to find Beta readers (or life’s equivalent) who share our world view! Thankfully my husband is mine. He wrote me a gorgeous email to pick me up from my head-shot funk. And he has rooted for Claire since the beginning (largely because he fancies her). He’s a few posts behind though, since started his job searching in earnest. Maybe that’s why I wonder what it is people are drawn to when they follow WriterMummy.

All Seeing Eye by Freeforms: Ideas for the Dragon Wraiths Cover

The flipside to reaching Day Fifty is that I’m ready for a new challenge. I have the attention span of a two-year-old and like to keep moving on. I don’t mean giving up the daily blog, I can’t do that. But I do need a new something.So I’m investigating trying to self-publish Dragon Wraiths. I’ve always dismissed the idea because the text relies on using several fonts and that isn’t very ebook friendly.

My challenge is to see if Smashwords will accept it as is and, if not, how it can be altered. Of course what I’ve actually done is spent the day looking at stock images of dragons for the front cover. You can take the girl out of marketing and design but you can’t take the need to create pretty pictures out of the girl! 🙂

Anyway, enough ramble. On to today’s post…

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Claire swallowed a yawn and commanded her eyelids not to close. The words washed over her, refusing to enter either ears or brain. If the smiling volunteer in front of her had requested one single fact from the short video Claire would have had to admit defeat.

Besides, who cares? I learned enough about Ruskin at Uni to last a lifetime.

She glanced round at the other avid viewers wondering if they, too, were just waiting for the moving pictures to finish. Her fellow tourists included a retired couple and a gaggle of students with their Tutor.

I wonder if they’re Art, Science or Architecture boffs? She looked at them with a mixture of sympathy and envy. As long as they’re not in front of me when it comes to queuing for coffee I don’t especially care.

Claire gazed surreptitiously out the window, not wanting to be berated for her lack of attention but in dire need of something to stave off sleep. The restless night, coupled with an early start, was taking its toll. Maybe this wasn’t such a smart plan. At least if I’d been dangling by a rope 18m up I’d be wide awake.

Her early-morning internet trawl for ideas had thrown up only three options: kayaking around Coniston, Go-Ape, and a wander through John Ruskin’s pad. She’d decided to risk a short kayak on the morrow, when the forecast was for warmer weather. Go-Ape had been immediately dismissed. I’ve done enough monkeying around for this week. Maybe I’ll swing by later in my Lakes tour. She sniggered at her own puns and then decided she should stop before she went completely bananas

At last the video ended. Claire was free to meander round the old house and lose herself in the splendour of an earlier era. A soporific calm descended as she settled into the slow tread of the gallery viewer. It reminded her of college field trips and lazy Sundays.

This isn’t particularly thrilling blog copy but who cares. I’ll write something lyrical about the view. She glanced out the window at the lake, pewter-dark beneath cloudy skies. Hmm maybe not. She smiled. Despite the overcast day she felt at peace.

“Claire? Claire Carleton?”

Her tranquillity was shattered by the screech of estuary vowels.

“ Blinkin ’ell it is you. What’re you doing up ’ere in the arse-end of nowhere?”

Claire turned, heat radiating from her face. Please, no. I’ll do anything. Let it not be her. She raised her eyes slowly, as if allowing the universe ample opportunity to correct this terrible mistake. Her gaze took in sensible black shoes, tights, black skirt, and her heart lurched optimistically. Cherie would never wear such normal attire. Her head lifted to face the owner of the dreaded voice and hope died. Grinning cheerfully from atop a steward’s shirt and jacket was the face she knew and loathed.

“Hello Cherie, how lovely to see you. I hardly expected to see anyone I knew working here in the back of beyond or however it was you so eloquently put it.”

“I’m just helping out me ma for a week, she was left stranded by one of her staff.”

“Your mother works here?”

Claire had never met Cherie’s mother and had always assumed they were cut from the same cloth.

“Yeah she came up ’ere when pop died, couldn’t wait to leave Essex. Always said she’d made a mistake marrying ’im.” Claire looked over her shoulder as Cherie’s strident voice echoed around the room.

“Is she here? Won’t she be upset to hear you talking about her?”

“Nah she’ll be in the office. Besides we’re always ribbing her for her la-di-da ways.”

This from the girl who spent ten years at a public school and still can’t pronounce the letter H?

Cherie looked Claire up and down and her grin widened. “You’re looking a bit rough. Times ’ard is they?”

Claire gritted her teeth and then forced them to relax into a smile. “I’m on a special assignment for Coca Cola. I’m an Advertising Director.” She squared her shoulders before swearing silently. Damn, she did it again. How does she do that to me? She could see by Cherie’s sparkling eyes that the woman had achieved her intention of winding Claire up.

She hasn’t seen me for, what, a decade and her first aim is to antagonise me? Silly cow.

Unwelcome flashbacks from school filled the space between them. Claire looked around for a neutral topic, not wanting to get into a fight and ruin her serenity. Her eyes alighted on a poster with a Ruskin quote on it.

“Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces up, snow is exhilarating; there is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.”

The appropriateness of it made her laugh out loud, remembering her trudge across the snowy Pennines and the scramble through hail to reach the top of Skiddaw. No such thing as bad weather? Right.

“Still larfing at me then, Claire? You always did fink you were better than me; lording it over us when your folks are nah better than mine.”

Claire flushed with shock at the bitter words hurled from frost-pink lips that no longer smiled.

“Me laugh at you? I spent my whole school life trying to stay away from your vicious tongue. I’m surprised you can stand upright with that chip balanced on your shoulder. Not that it’s any business of yours but I was laughing at the Ruskin quote.” Claire indicated the poster to her right.

“Still trying to get one over on me aren’t yer? Laugh at this dry old trout’s stuff? Now I know yer talking bollocks. I’ve never read such a steamin’ pile of poo in me life.” Cherie shook her head as if Claire’s words had merely confirmed her dislike. She threw one more spiked look at her erstwhile school companion and stomped from the room.

Claire stood motionless as the footsteps receded, unsure whether to laugh or weep. She became aware of shakes coursing through her body and a loud hammering in her chest. She nodded an apologetic farewell to Ruskin’s room and headed for the café.

I need caffeine.

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