Still Not Enough Rice Pudding

How are you celebrating New Year's Eve? I'm off to a party that was arranged a couple of weeks ago where it was decided a fun theme would be 'national dress' - oh why!?! Cue stereotypes...

Well, I have some clogs, so I'll be Holland. They are Moshulu clogs, red with flowers on... in other words, my actual shoes. And N has a kilt so can be Scotland. Hope he wears pants this time... my mate's grandad nearly passed out last time he wore the kilt out in public in a light breeze.

He doesn't quite have the hat, though. He has a tam o'shanter made of astroturf with a golf flag and ball stuck to it. Makes it very specifically St Andrews. Mmm...

English national dress is a little harder to identify. There are different groups around trying to assert saxon clothing, or morris dancer garb, or the costumes of pearly kings and queens as examples off the English National Dress, but overall there's no consensus. I can't think it's because we are too regionalistic. I wonder if it's just that we generally have a poor grasp of our folk heritage? It's a shame, I think.

Today's motto is eat, drink, and be careful, for tomorrow we have to run round the park a bit.

We've been eating up the pies, cheese and pastries to make way for tomorrow's healthier choices. Dinner last night was duck - a fatty meat, but very tasty. Except I nearly broke a tooth on a bit of stray shot... be careful of that sort of thing if eating game. It can be cheap, but emergency dental work can make it a false economy.

Last wantonly frivolous outing of the year was a trip to the cinema to see The Hobbit - a second time for N, who went to see it whilst very drunk on Christmas Eve, and subsequently paid extra to sleep through half the 3D version. What am I going to do with him? i know it's had some iffy reviews, but I really liked it. Perhaps my enthusiasm may have been buoyed by the on-screen presence of Aidan Turner. N tried to point out that this does not make Tolkien dwarves sexy; it's just a sexy man playing a dwarf. I don't know. I am quite worried by me. I mean, I only ever really liked James McEvoy when he was playing Mr Tumnus the faun. And I only really like Orlando Bloom as Legolas (mind, I think everyone agrees that elves are meant to be sexy).

A bit of make do and mend was required as my jeans needed sewing before I was fit to venture out. Yay - I did something practical!

I've got a storytelling gig this week, so I'm planning the final outing of the Royal witches for a bit, and will hopefully be able to fit the trip into my January mini-goals.

Sealed Pot Sunday: it's not January yet, but I've chosen to travel by bus not train, and not buy a diet magazine, saving £10. Every little helps.
No-spend days: Aiming for at least 4 per week. 5 or 6 if possible.
Fitness: climb stairs every day, 150 minutes moderate exercise, building up.
Food: Budget £80. WW F&H.
Work: Sort out invoices for month, tidy office, complete reviews, begin magazine work, CV people.
Reading list: Ben Aaronovith, Rivers of London (reading) in queue: Russell Kane/Neil Gaiman/Paul Cornell/Caitlin Moran.
Cons: Book Eastercon and World Fantasycon. Hotels will have to wait.
Wedding: Choose honeymoon, pay for venue (with N)

I got to the museum in plenty of time on Wednesday to take over the evening storytelling shift while David went off to appear in Wuthering Heights. Five minutes later, my first audience came in...

It went well. My two young actress volunteers improvised their way through Elizabeth Woodville and Jacquetta of Luxembourg's story and it was different every time. They were enthusiastic and creative and had fun... I hope!

The last group had a few kids, including one who was all 'yeah, yeah, I'm bored, this isn't scary'... and we managed to get him to shut up and listen. YES!

Sadly, the BBC didn't come to film us as they couldn't get permissions to film everything they wanted, so they went to another part of the tour instead. Boo.

I made sure the girls were back safe at rendezvous point in the library, where I learned the tours were running about 40 minutes late. So, no trek to the pub for all the tour lot then. But I still had to go to see how my comedy night was doing... and the answer was, not so well. Lessons learned there, I'm afraid. Still it was lovely to talk to Pat Burtscher and Will Marsh.

I also made sure I got to see James Acaster, David Trent and Jake Moore doing their thing this week, as it was the last chance for me as we have diary clashes elsewhere. So funny! I was super-cold in the club, though, and a bit head-achey, so I think this weekend some lurg-fighting TLC is required.

I was super-glad that with very careful budgeting last month, despite the fact I didn't get a full wage, I managed not to go overdrawn. That's a couple of beers' worth of money transferred to the wedding/convention/Christmas budget. I'm hoping to get back into the swing of booking conventions at lower rates like I used to, as well. That will also save money.

I'm also getting more editorial work coming through now, which is great. The future is on its way.

So, it's the start of the month. Here are some goals:

Health and fitness - hope I can build up to going swimming later this month. I've also volunteered to marshal at parkrun until I'm well enough to run it again.

Wedding - I need to book the venues in Gretna and Northampton.

Conventions - Sci-Fi Weekender - deposit is sent. Just need to make sure we have a full caravan now.

Creative ideas - I'm performing poetry at a Christmas Lights switch on in December and there are merchandising possibilities... make a CD? What would go down better, I wonder... a general poetry CD or a Christmas album? Not long to decide.

I've also got to submit a piece for Northampton Science Fiction Writers Group. I might rewrite my 90s nostalgia story, or I already have a novella chapter written and submitted somewhere... but a crit is only useful if that somewhere is a dead end. Let's see what can be achieved over the next 2 weeks.

I've got to finalize the line-up for the Christmas Cabaret at the Racehorse. Exciting stuff! We have punk-jazz poetry, comedy, burlesque and geek show sideshow magic so far!

Writing comedy material on the joy of crap discos.

Must. Do. More. Knitting!

Leisure time - I'm planning very little in this month: a party on Friday, cinema trip on Tuesday. Frugality rules. Neil and I are planning to make a date to see either a TV film or DVD (old or borrowed) at least once a week. Last week's was Spirited Away, lent to us by a friend a few months back. That's how busy we've been! *Guilt* This week, Princess Mononoke from the same friend. Then we can post them back.

I also intend to read at least 2 books a month for pleasure - as in, not obliged to for a review or work. Am currently enjoying Joanne Harris's The Lollipop Shoes.

Frugality and money - I want to put a good chunk towards the wedding this month - it will probably have to go straight out again on securing the venues, but that will feel like progress. Hopefully Neil will have stuck to budget to get a new freezer.

declutter Kitchen cupboards, your time has come!

When I woke up this morning, I had a bit of a dilemma.

A famous local writer had written to me. The note had been passed to me by one of my friends. They said, "Oh dear, you must have upset him. What did you do?"

For the life of me, I couldn't work it out. But then, I know me and tact are nary bedfellows. Or strange ones. Or strange naries... whatever the expression is.

I had to put the note away and get on with work. I went to bed, had strange dreams and woke up wanting to see the note again. When I read it, I was much relieved. It seemed that rather than being acutely displeased with me, said writer had actually taken note of my existence, only he regretted he was not able to help and advise me perhaps in the way I might have wanted. He had different rooms for different sorts of people, was how he put it, and he just didn't know where to put me. He also expressed that I didn't seem able to abandon myself fully to my creative side and was full of self-censorship. I paraphrase...

Anyway, I woke up before my alarm this morning and my dilemma was would it be right to share this with anyone.

About ten minutes later I realised none of it had ever happened. There was no note. I was a bit disappointed by this, even though it had caused me some distress and self-doubt.

But, this is what dreams are for. The filing and sorting of things. You don't need a dream dictionary and you don't have to look for symbols. I interpret my dream thus: maybe I am censoring myself, but the likelihood is I'm actually worrying more about how I come across, and this affects my relationships as well as my work. Remarkably though, I feel a lot less anxious than I did.

Things to ponder...

I had a fantastic time at Lyric Lounge last Saturday. It was great fun using balloons and paper aeroplanes of our poems to muster the crowds and I really enjoyed hosting the talent showcase in the evening. Mark Gwynne Jones was excellent. Everyone was excellent! But I also had some really good feedback for myself (poetry and hosting), all of which is adding to my thoughts that perhaps poetry is where I'm getting the most kudos and respect, rather than comedy. What can I do with that, I wonder?

Then on Wednesday I went to my writing group and my stuff was up for critique. I had submitted the first chapter of Wonderwalled - my first attempt at long fiction since the 90s, and aptly set in the 90s as well. I've been scribbling away at it for a while but don't seem to have got terribly far with it. My intention was to write something anti-chicklit, but the general consensus from the group seems to be that I have just gone a little bit too far in this respect and there was a resounding cry of where's the story? Silly question - in my head! The thing has legs... but they need to paddle harder.

I think I may go away, read some Sophie Kinsella, come back to it in a couple of weeks.*

It occurs to me that writing is such a solitary occupation that sometimes it is difficult to even share work with yourself. You become divided into the person who can do extraordinary things and the village idiot. Together, they make one heck of a crime-fighting duo!

But seriously, this is why critique groups are damned useful.

Things I am up to this week include a poetry reading at Weston Favell library this morning at 11am. Then I'm doing my first comedy show on Thursday as part of the Nottingham Comedy Festival. I say first show... my bit of it will be about 25 minutes. Family stories and silly poems. All good, clean stuff. Mostly. That's at The Maze. tickets here:
http://www.nottscomedyfestival.co.uk/calendar_70739.html


Apart from that, I'm going to be pretending I'm Barbara Good.

*or maybe not. I seem to have come back from the library with Christopher Brookmyre's Pandaemonium and Submarine by Joe Dunthorne which I shall probably not have time to read as I also got some gardening books and will have a go sorting out my veg plot ready to feed me in the spring.

Yesterday, I went off to that there London for a most marvellous press party at the Cittie of Yorke for Newcon Press's 5th birthday party, combined with the launch of the marvellous Liz Williams's new collection, Glass of Shadow. It looks so pretty (it has a rare cover by the fantastic Anne Sudworth, featuring Sooty the cat!) and I can't wait to read it.



EDIT: Should point out, you can order this and many other good books here:
http://newconpress.co.uk/

I am giving myself a break from too many words today, though. I don't have a fuzzy head as such, but I didn't get much sleep and I'm filled with a sort of malaise that has led to me spending most of the day procrastinating and feeling sorry for myself... so I ashamed to say the editing things and comedy writing I should have got round to today have gone the way of the polishing and ironing. Whoops! Meanwhile I have watched my neighbour out of the window as he has been tidying his garden and pegging out his washing - which has now all been rained on. Sometimes, making the effort is a bit redundant. Yay for procrastination!

But yesterday - oh the wonderfulness of socialising with all my friends, being in a pub and being able to just relax and enjoy myself. I hope Ian Whates enjoyed himself as much as we all did.

Meantime, you mght like to know I'm going to be at the Bardic Picnic in Northampton at the end of the month, and they've done these lovely flyers (that don't mention me, but never mind that, I'm going to be there. *Sigh* Just not worthy enough of mention, Donna Scott, off that cloud with you!

An extremely busy week in which I have managed to do four lovely things to be gathered in this post.

Two of these things are poetry-centered. I travelled to Watford on Tuesday to a wonderful venue called The Horns, where they do wine, tea and live stuff! I was there as a guest of rrrants, headed by the marvellous Anti-Poet who do stuff that gets ever more raucous, eccentric, loud and just brilliant. An excellent night that featured poetry, music and a touch of comedy. Everyone was ace, and one group did a lovely cover of Jolene. I can't remember what they were called, but I know there was one group called The Caution Horses which is an excellent name for a band, don't you think? Much fun was had and my namesake, Donna, very kindly gave me a lift to the station after. Thanks, guys - looking forward to St. Albans!

The fabulous Danni Antagonist was also on the bill, and I joined her again the following night for a Milton Keynes invasion of Rhymes in Birmingham, along with the marvellous Fay Roberts and the sheer amazing awesomeness that is Mark Niel. So happy for Mark, who has just been made Poet Laureate of MK! If you ever get the chance to see any of these guys, my advice to you is to grab it with both hands. However, should the opportunity not arise quick enough for you, may I recommend you get in touch with me or one of the others and buy our CD? It is called Four Gathered and features 18 live tracks recorded at various venues, and maybe there's a secret track on there too... Price is £5 in person, and we will be touting these wherever we are at. Are we any good? Well... *blushes* erm, here's a review.

So, yes we are :D

And we had a lovely night too... by the way, can I mention just how ace Lorna Mehan is - as a poet, host and person!? Hope she comes down to our neck of the woods one of the days.


Thursday, I was invited to the British Library for the launch of their Out of This World exhibition - a chance to mingle with the great and good of SF and a load of peeps I know and have a good old stare at some lovely books. China Mieville did a marvellous speech, there was a Discovery channel film, little nibblies and free wine, free wine. The exhibition is just amazing - and it's free as well, so you should totally go! There are books and art to look at, and I drew an alien on an interactive graphic display. It may have resembled one of my sheep cartoons, but I can assure you, it was an alien sheep.

I did feel a bit guilty looking at the displays, though. It was a bit like looking at my own bookshelves, as I was thinking wow, I'd really love to read that some day. Sometimes, there's just not enough time for stuff.

The exhibition is on until September, and is free. If we can scrape monies together, I'm taking N to a couple of the discussions that are also happening, and which are all £7.50.

The final lovely thing was a nice night out last night, which followed a photo shoot. I'm putting on a comedy show in Nottingham with Ben Briggs for the festival this autumn, so we needed good photos for the publicity and I asked Joe Brown as he is the best in the bizniz! Makes me feel all professional and stuff. Tee hee.

Tonight I'm off to the Clarke Awards in Londinium. We have been given a dress code: "awesome fabulousness". Well, I think I'm about halfway there... in that I currently resemble "some ness". Face like a dirty uncooked Ginsters pasty, the brightest thing about me this morning are my pink sheep pyjamas. My hair is in messy rags. I anticipate the results of my 'hairdo' to resemble my own slack-jowled version of Whatever Happened to Shirley Temple? I'm going to need considerably more slap...

Of course, we are just a day or two post Eastercon. I have a tickle of con lurg that I'm warding off with a grimace and the combined effects of insomnia and deliberate sleep deprivation battle on my face. Awesome bloody fabulousness...

On the bright side, the gold dress I have borrowed for this evening's soiree actually zips up - this is as close to 'fits' as it's likely to get, but that'll do me. I actually think Eastercon may have helped in this respect: one, because it was too expensive to eat, two, because it was too expensive to drink and three, because we had to walk miles back to the hotel room due to the stupid NEC shutting down access to the shuttle at dusk just because it was a bank holiday. Normally the shuttle would be open until 2am. We could see the monorail still going back and forth... just couldn't get to it.

Friday was a predictable rush, and N and I managed to just about scrape into our book launch at 5pm - nice and sweaty. So we waved and mouthed hellos at people as the books were being talked about. The books are beautiful though... we are really proud to have been asked to write for this by Andy Bigwood.




I failed to adequately relax on Friday night. I was stressed about the forthcoming BSFA Awards, hadn't eaten properly and had drunk a pint of Broadoak Perry (7.something percent). I may have appeared quite manic... but N and I went to a lovely party hosted by Ian Watson for Kris Black's 40th where I bravely tried inky squid!

Saturday then largely consisted of rictus grins, bitten nails and panic as I prepped for the BSFA Awards. Most of the day was taken up by the count, but I did manage to shoehorn myself into a little black cocktail dress ahead of Doctor Who. See that Karen Gillan? I can do manic stares too, you know. Shorter legs, though.

Paul Cornell was brilliant though. Not only was he very funny whilst presenting the awards, but calm and sensible and really helpful. I had to admit being quite scared that something horrid would happen like the awards fall apart on stage (it had been noted that they do rather resemble bath bombs), but this did not happen!


And so finally, I could relax - if not breathe because my dress was very, very tight.

Sunday - I was sooo happy! I sat on the BSFA stall for a bit, managed to spend a very small amount in the dealers room, invested in a hot chocolate from the Costa stand (£4.65!!@~#!)and then went out for a curry with my mates, having first done a mad alcohol-finding dash across all the green bits of Birmingham with Del and Paul. It turned out there were 3 offies next to the curry house. Damn! The curry being delicious and the thing most resembling - in fact being real food I did eat lots and lots.

Monday, saw Paul Cornell again as we were both on a sleep-deprived and James Bacon-less panel for Just a Minute. I think I availed myself well for my first go. And I beat him, ha ha ha! I'm so competitive.

Excellent weekend: shout outs to Ian Watson and Christina, Kris and Jessica,Ian Whates, Terry, Peter, Martin and Tony, Lee, Ro and (I'm sure I saw him) Marco (Remic had his head down a loo), Lauren, Kevin, Aliette, Tom and Prof, Freda and Mike, Anne and Warren, Terry and Liz, Liz Williams (waved at!), Andy Bigwood, Kathy and Sue, Kari and Phil, Emma and Saxon, Andrew, Adam, Tiff, Debbie, Lou, Anna, Bella, Gareth Powell, Gary Gibson, Neil Beynon, Neil Williamson, Sam and Paul, Kim and Del. Whew!

... oh and guess what's just happened? The hotel I'm staying at tonight was booked as non-cancellable room deal on Last Minute.com. The hotel's reservations team have just called having discovered an error was made loading the price onto the site... could I pay extra? I've told them they really should be taking this up with the website, not me. I do feel guilty, but I don't think it's right that I should be paying two separate businesses for the same room. If anyone has any advice for me, I'd be really grateful.

Cher once sang, "If I could turn back time." I presume some kind of supposition followed. Who knows...? She can expose her clunge with an ill-fitting basque whilst riding a cannon on a battleship for all I care, I still wouldn't bother with the rest of the lyrics.

But how bitterly that song resonates with me now... if only I could turn back time. I might whisper some advice into the ear of my younger self - younger by just three months. Ah, look at that young lady: so full of hope; so full of dreams... the lines bite not so deep into her brow. See her lift a glass of fermented apple juice and laugh. Ha ha ha ha ha. She knows not of the way of sorrows...

Can't go into the whys and wherefores, but let's just say I was planning the most amazing wedding of all amazingness. But rather than having an elephant give me away (okay, walk down the aisle) in Sri Lanka, I'm probably going to have to ask a local tramp here. Or my dad. He practically lives in a bivvy, so that's as good as. Yes, it transpires there's a hole in the bucket (or keep-net).

But we must do what we do and soldier on... and I have had plenty to distract me. At the weekend I attended a follow up session to the 48 Hour Book Project. That's going really well and we are on track to finish that in May. Next week, the 48 Hour writers are invited to attend a session on social media, though I think it was safe to say we managed a preliminary debate about expectations, idea ownership, remuneration and copyright protection last weekend.

N had already got us tickets to Alan Moore's reading in the Fishmarket. As part of the John Clare festival, Tyranny of Grammer (sic), Alan was reading from Voice of the Fire. That was fantastic! Plus the Fishmarket was full of friends, some of whom had travelled quite some distance to attend the event. I suggested to Judith Allnat she should come, and she did. She is a bit of a John Clare specialist ahving written a novel from the perspective of The Poet's Wife. All good stuff.

Then on Sunday, I took advantage of mega-cheap tickets to get to Birmingham to go on Aaron Twitchen's show on Rhubarb Radio with desk-driver Dave and Harriet Dyer to boot. I meant to plug the BSFA Awards, but it was such a fun chat, I clean forgot to mention Paul Cornell is hosting.

I've had other creative distractions too as I realise I'm going to have to pull my socks up to make any money at the scribbling business - as I now need to try to do.

I thought I might also share my frugal tips n'tricks with you as I discover them on the Sri-Lankan Diversion, so here are today's:

1. London Midland are doing half price train tickets from now until May... handy for Eastercon! They might not be running many trains, but at least you can get frustrated for less - like in a bargain Tantric brothel!

2. Pasties! Not just for covering up the bits of burlesque dancers - they're also a pie-based snack traditionally made in Cornwall. And you can make your own non-pasty pasty using up whatever you've got in your fridge. I put leeks, carrot, parsnips and swede in mine.

3. Flapjacks. Normally pretty good, especially when it's too warm for porridge, but mine were minging today. My tip - don't skimp on the treacle and butter. I've wasted my oats!

It's ridiculously early for getting up on a Saturday, but I'm round at my parents' house and it looks like insomnia has bitten. Never mind, everyone should be up in the next fifteen minutes or so, as my 6-year old nephew, the Genius (maths merit badge yesterday, folks. Apparently it was 'easy') has a birthday party to go to. At 9am! Dad said that's some inconsiderate parent putting their love of football before their child. Mom says they just didn't want to clash with another child's party in the afternoon. Who is right? Doesn't matter - it's still mad!

I'm here because I had a comedy gig at the Custard Factory last night. I love that place. I'm glad to see it still has a young hipster crowd that go there with an 'impress me - no try harder' attitude, because if you're in the business of impressing, that's the level you need to get past, really, so ideal for a bit of experimentation. I am not sure they were wholly the Custeratti, mind - most of them were dressed very sensibly and there was a distinct lack of tweed. But have we moved on from tweed now?

I am trying to break in new stuff, probably a bit late in the day to see what is going to work before my competition heat on Sunday, but never mind. Although I tend to do fine with my comedy these days, I do feel I need to switch it about a bit, get a bit chattier and veer away from any subject areas that may have been denounced as 'hack' by Chortle regulars. It's not that they're not funny, but the danger is you might be billed with someone who goes on before you and talks around the same thing, so it doesn't matter if there's a twist; it risks skimming the shores of boring.

So, I've been including stuff about my schooldays... but there's an anecdote I did that needs a bigger bang finish, so I'm going to have to think on more, I suppose. I slightly alienated my hipster lovelies last night by wishing speedier enlightenment on body hang-ups for the under 25s. They are happy being thin and lovely, oddly. I then came home and told my parents a story about a parent that wound me up in a cheese shop at Christmas. They have said I should include that in my set. Really, these things come out of anywhere!

Also, the poetry has been picking up lately, and I do try to include short pieces in my comedy set too. I am a writer trapped in wood. I keep whittling away at the different sides trying to get more distinct.

But something wonderful and fabulous comes along every now and then to make me feel better - more than better. Take for example the 48 hour book project which took place last weekend.



This was part of Writing Futures - a project in which several writers collaborated over a weekend to come up with a book. I was working with Mehran Waheed, Ben Elijah, Mike Davies, Polly Brown, Lisa Shepherd, Judith Allnatt, Nicola Peacock, Amy McCormack, Sue Bentley, Tom Harding, and Chris Ringrose, and the project was also put together with the hard work of Kate Earl of Literature Northants. It was a fantastic weekend, and it was great to work with so many different kinds of writers, and they were all lovely too, bonus! We all got a copy of Margaret Attwood's The Blind Assasin as part of World Book Night's book giveaway, and Sue Bentley also gave me one of her Magic Kitten books - so cute! We will round the project off with a follow up workshop on 9th April. In the meantime, you can follow our project here.

Meantime, N also went away on a writing weekend in Derby. He had a very good time, as evidenced by the massive bruise on his thigh and his dislocated knee. Don't ask.

About my life, my writing, I have never felt so focused. This is very much helped by the fact that we are trying to set a date for our wedding. But nothing has been set aside... it all needs to be done now. We are brassic. I haven't a hope in Merry Hill's chance of saving up from my dayjob, so I am going to have to start thinking, get creative. The goal and the ideal has been set. I would like to get married in Sri Lanka, go and see where the thing I like best is made (tea!) and get walked to the ceremony with an elephant. N wants to explore the architecture at the centre of Sri Lanka and go scuba diving. We will then have a big party at home for all our family and friends to come to. We want to do this a year from now. We are insane.

But if we can do it, the pieces will all float together... sekrit project, health, our future. So, I've had a fresh look at finances, re-read Kath Kelly's book on living in next to nothing, got the spending diary started, and decided now is the time to get picky about where I am going to gig. I've also started becoming a bit of a freegan - not exactly dumpster diving, but last night I did get paid in pizza. Coca Cola is no longer getting any of my money, and I'm only 3lbs off target at Weight Watchers, so I'll soon be paid off with them (mind, with pizza last night... maybe a run is in order). Also a self-imposed new bought books ban. That's the one I really need willpower with. I don't suppose I can ask many of my readers for help with that, can I? You're like my feeders. Okay, maybe I'm doomed...

This is more of a thought-piece than a proper essay … (my excuse for vagueness).

I heard from an old friend last weekend, who’d chanced across a review of one of my stories and sent congratulations, which was very thoughtful of him. I haven’t seen said review, but there is an online blog referring to it, as it was in Black Static. What I was particularly intrigued by is this teaser statement from the tta blog:

Interestingly, out of the all the anthologies that I reviewed in Black Static #19, these were the only ones that had more female than male contributors, suggesting either that vampire fiction is a subgenre that appeals particularly to women writers or that women writers appeal more to these particular editors (as far as I can tell Evolve was open to submissions, but there was an element of 'by invitation' to The Bitten Word). I'll leave wiser eyes than mine to read the signs.

(  Signs! Omens! )