*tumbleweed blows by*

So ... you may have noticed I haven't blogged of late.

Not 100% my fault.

So Thursday morning I get up and start hacking apart the invites I made for boy's 3rd birthday (toy story themed, I'm such a cool mum) and hear my parents say we've been cut off, phone and net. Sky's a bit funny too. And after half an hour on the rotatrimmer (bonus of having half your family in the teaching profession. My sister would've lent me her laminator too, if I'd asked) I started feeling queasy.

But I passed it off because I had to get boy to nursery, so I got him ready and went, and posted all his nursery invites into the folders, feeling all sweaty and horrid. I thought it was just the weather, and the fact that nursery gets so hot so quickly.

And then I got on a bus, ready to get my $USD and some other holiday *non* essentials, and that nausea really hit me. So I closed my eyes the whole bus ride and kept trying to imagine this waterfall, something with no smell that was sort of calm and clear and clean and I concentrated so hard on that water ... and it worked until the bus did a u-turn into the depot. And then I lost control. And the bus driver was really nice about the fact I yakked on his bus (probably thinking 'time for my fag break, and if the cleaners are in the bus I get a coffee too'), I went to get a water and yakked a few more times before I managed to make my way home (I was smart, I put the water in a bag on self serve then put the water in my bag and viola, baggy for the bus home!)

So I've spent most of the time we've been disconnected vomming, sleeping and reading. And today, playing on a video game so I feel carpal tunnel setting in. I won't type much longer. It turns out, the whole of the hamlet is disconnected, there's been some gasworks and roadworks so one of them must've knocked out all our phonelines. Thanks.

I went back to work yesterday, for my last shit before we go away. And they actually freaking let me cook! I mean, I normally do weekend breakfast now, since aparently I'm shit-hot at building a bagel (I kid, I'm crap) but near the end of breakfast they were going 'we've only got till people in' and I was like 'I know some kitchen!' (I did one side when I was 6 months pregnant for 2 hours, and I've dressed on the other side for an hour. Besides the point) so I got to cook and avoid shitty customers all day. Especially as Sunday is Complaining Customer day. Win Win. I just had to avoid breathing, to avoid the lingering nausea. And build some upper body strength. Ha!

But I won't be back for long since we're away soon. So excited! I think I'll be able to get up at 3.30 for the flights ...

Oh, and the books I read? Um, My Single Friend (which was good for chick-lit, if a little annoying) ... the title should give away the storyline. Protagonist bird has male roommate she's known for years, is a dork. They watch a makeover show, she decides to give him a makeover, he turns out to be all studly. Yaddayaddayadda ... they fall in love. Very Predictable.

Don't take the piss. My head was pounding from the rush to the head when I puked.

I read the third book in Lindsey Kelk' "I love" series, I Love Paris. I don't know why I pick those books up. Because Alex and Jenny, the boyfriend and best friend characters are mildly funny I guess. You know they say 'write what you know'? Lindsey Kelk actually writes her life. I read her bio before I read I Love New York, the first one, and it's just like it says in the bio. But the bio is far less irritating - in ILNY, she breaks up with her boyfriend and moves to new york and spends half the book telling the reader, and other characters, she broke up with her boyfriend and moved to new york. In the second, I Love Hollywood, she goes to interview this actor (she's a blogger and sometimes-journalist, having given up editing kids books) and they're pictured together compromisingly before it's revealed he's gay. She spends half the book telling people the photo's aren't real and he's just an actor and she broke up with someone in England and moved to New York. And in the one I just read, I Love Paris, she and her new boyfriend go to Paris for his band's gig/her chance to write an article, and they find his ex, who makes a move on the boyfriend. And yep, she spends half the book telling the reader and the other characters that the ex is trying to get rid of her and she interviewed that gay actor and she broke up with someone in England and moved to New York.

How she's going to have a storyline in the fourth book with all the above to repeat endlessly is beyond me.

I have 2 books coming away with me to Florida. Will read when the boy's asleep. Wish me luck on the plane - we have to entertain him somehow! And last time on the way home, he wouldn't sleep a)on the plane b)when we got home. Wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't in the crawling stage ...

Days until toy story 3: 2
Days until Florida: 3
Days until Harry Potter Land: 5
Days until boy's 3rd: 31
Days until boy's party: 33
Days until bridgathon: 55 (I think?)

Balls of steel

I took the advice of a fictional character I created (following that?) ... I grew a pair.

Not literally, obviously, since humans can't do that (and I'm not a chicken. Chickens can) but I took the plunge and looked through some agents on my list and sent some that were a)accepting manuscripts and b)required paper entries. I'll do the email entries tomorrow or Thursday.

So ... be prepared in about two months for me to moan about all my rejections. I'm being a realist - I will get rejected. But I'm also being an optimist - someone's going to want me. I just have to find them. Like those hidden object games I seem to always play.

I feel successful about doing that, but ... I wasn't successful shopping today. The military look doesn't work with the peachy ornamental stuff that's out there ... there wasn't much else. I got a white vest I wanted, and found something in next (:O I never find anything in next) ... but that's it for my holiday. God, can't the high street do something lightweight for simple tastes? The simple stuff I liked was too heavy for right now.

And there was, in all seriousness, about ten books I wanted in waterstones today (I walked out with no books. Achievement!) ... there's the latest Lindsey Kelk that I want anyway, one by Allison Pearson about fan letters that looks good, one about this girl relieving the past which had a sparkly cover which won me over, this book about some guy's random dad who's apparently huge on twitter (never heard of him), one about this girl who moves into this A list apartment block, one about this girl visiting her friend in the summer, and another teen one I can't remember but grabbed me by the balls.

So that's like, £60's worth of books (at least three were in the 3-for-2) ... plus I want toy story 3 and lego harry potter for me wii.

Anyone got a spare £150?

Who needs routine anyway?

Okay, so music is pretty big with me. Not as huge as some of my friends, but still pretty big.

There's this quote, I forget which book now, it's either Sarah Dessen or Lindsey Kelk, which goes 'if you say you like all music, it's because you haven't fallen in love with a style yet'.

Basically, you can listen to all types of music, but there should always be one style that stands out, or else you'll never really appreciate music.

I like most music. I'm very give-and-take on rap and r&b, house and club music. There are few tracks I like. I love pop as a guilty pleasure, but my all time favourite is punk-pop. I like country and jazz and old-fashioned rock'n'roll, I can take emo and screamo and opera. Musicals make me happy, soundtracks account for half my music collection (I first heard mest on Bring It On). I like instrumentals too - Vivaldi's 4 seasons got me through my A levels. Sixties music, Eighties music, some 20's swing ... like it all.

So it's a little bit of a change that I'm currently uploading 'r&b clubland' onto my computer. Buuuut, although there's a few turkeys on there, it's practically a collection of all the songs I can tolerate in the genre. So why the heck not?

Don't worry, I'll most likely follow it up with a good dose of NFG.

All of today was a change from the routine. Boy got me decorating biscuits this morning. There was one my brother-in-law had done y-fronts on, and boy had bitten the head off. So I put red icing on the neck wound. It looked amazing.

And boy and I decided to go get more decorating stuffs, and as I was off to get dressed (at midday), I got a text about going kiting ... and thought 'why the heck not?' (I was running out of ideas for decorations) so we went kiting/football with some work peeps.

Was good, I think boy loved the idea of having a huge field to run around in. Freedom tastes extra sweet when you're 2, I guess. He found this little path in some trees and had me running up and down it with him for a good half hour. And we both tried kiting, but he stopped when it dragged him on the ground and he started crying (don't worry, boy wasn't allowed to do it unsupervised, that kite pull got me too) ... it reminded me of how you hold the poles when skiing, how you square the reins to your body and use your torso for the direction ... which just makes me miss skiing (and it's been ten years since I went. I was awesome on the slopes, after the first day of falling on my ass and almost quitting). He made me laugh, when he called everyone either 'man' or 'girl' even though I told him their names. I think he heard 'blah blah man, blah blah girl, blah blah blah' ... which is what he normally hears when I talk.

We still got biscuit decorating crap. Cost me a good £30, but it keeps him quiet for a morning, so it's money well spent, lol.

Definitely beats constantly pulling him away from the TV. A whole day without Alvin, Toy Story, Spongebob, Penguins of Madagascar, Bob The Builder, In the night garden ... you have no idea how good that feels!

Breaking promises

I promised myself, that when I finished Carrie's Diaries, I'd buckle down and revise for my theory test.

But then my friend let me on to the release date for The Tree Of Seasons, the book Stephen Gately was almost through writing when he died. She's already finished it (she says she knew Stephen and Andrew well. Think that means she got sent it early. Either that or she pre-ordered. Knowing her, it was the first option) but it was only released Thursday.

So I finished Carrie's Diaries today, and have already started on The Tree Of Seasons. I am so bad. It's going well so far, if a little slow. I get the feeling he's writing some Irish folklore into The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe.

Ordinarily, I would consider it blasphemy to try to replicate The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe, but Stephen Gately seemed so genuine and warm, and had a huge appreciation for Disney that I'm not sure I can be all rude about it. Especially as he's now deceased. So I'll get over my normal vehemence, because Stephen Gately was a dude.

Anyway, Carrie's Diaries! I wasn't ever an avid watcher of Sex And The City, and have never read the books that the films are based on. I did watch it occasionally, and immediately fell in love with Samantha. I could take Carrie or leave her, Miranda would annoy me too much since she's too like me, and Charlotte's pretty cool, but Samantha has that confidence I'd love to have. So the prequel intrigued me.

The only character really in it is Carrie, and a whole bunch of 'new' characters. I wish Cassie read this, and commented, because I know she's really into SATC and she'd be able to tell me if Carrie ever mentioned a Lali, or Donna LaDonna (Samantha's cousin), or Maggie or The Mouse ... I just have to guess. Or spend an obscene amount of money on the series to see if there's a mention of any of them (or not, I think I saw it dirt cheap in tesco's. But I spent about £70 today so there's no chance) ... I might just plague Cassie on facebook.

Candace has a great writing style. I'm envious. There were a few things that didn't sit right with me - I didn't really get that Carrie felt so enamoured with Sebastian (or maybe it was me thinking 'he's a douche, he's a douche' the entire time) or the whole bit with Peter (you'll see when you get there, I want everyone to read) but otherwise, I liked the way Carrie came across. When Donna LaDonna mentioned a cousin in NYC who Carrie should meet up with, I could tell right off who it could be, which made me want to skip pages (always a good sign in a writer, if I have to restrain from doing that and get on with the minor details instead). There were some things written in the book that kind of sparked something, some hint of recognition, when Carrie was talking about wanting to be a writer and the advice she's given along the way. Sidebar - I hate when authors make their protagonists aspire to be writers. It just feels like they're making a mockery of the entire system, being so preachy about the chances of being published and blah, blah, blah. However, I do know Carrie wrote weekly for a magazine or paper, so this always felt a little more like realistic back story than, say, anything Lindsey Kelk ever wrote.

Advice point one - write what you know. That old adage. To this point, I think when I write I both succeed and fail. I'm an observer, and I've had a fair amount of life experience. To that end, I can write a hell of a lot of what I know. But also ... maybe I try to distance myself from what I know to an extent, and put the experiences in different locations, situations ... so it's not what I know. Does this doom me to poor writing ever after?

Advice point two - Keep a diary. Or, in this modern age, a blog. Carrie doesn't, but I do. Admittedly, intermittently, but I do. It helps practice writing and documenting key points in life. It helps to formulate writing style and precision. It's like with anything to do with body and mind - if you don't practice, you won't do as well for as long. I know sometimes I may only make sense to me (and sometimes, I don't even achieve that) but hopefully we can bear in mind the crazy from the illness episode and use that as a formidable excuse. I don't know what's with my extensive vocabulary suddenly, by the way. It's the mood I'm in.

Advice point three - I'm going to have to lift this from the text, because it's far more eloquent than I can be. "Audiences often ask if characters are based on 'real people.' Indeed, the impulse of the amateur is to write about 'who one knows.' The professional, on the other hand, understands the impossibility of such a task. The 'creator' of the character must know more about the character than one could ever possibly know about a 'real person.' The author must possess complete knowledge: what the character was wearing on Christmas morning when he or she was five, what presents he or she received, who have them, and how they were given. A 'character' therefore, is a 'real person' who exists in another plane, a parallel universe based on the author's perception of reality. When it comes to people - don't write about you know know, but what you know of human nature."

I get that. I feel I do that. Feedback when you read my stuff?

P.S. Is this not the most affirmative review I've given so far on my blog or what? Not to sound arrogant ... it's just nice to be able to praise writing, rather than complain about it. In short - Candace Bushnell makes none of the rookie mistakes I make that I recognise in others work. Kudos Ms Bushnell, Kudos.

Still tired, still awake

Watching Celebrity 4 Weddings on sky plus and writing the last few pages of Budding. And playing games on facebook (thanks to my friend Mel, who sent me a link to a damn addictive game).

Yeah, I wanted to post something today, and I can't for the life of me remember what. I think it's time for me to read fluff. Not as bad as Lindsey Kelk, but maybe Sharon Osbourne or Sophie Kinsella again. Or a couple of other rom-com chick-lit I have scattered about that I'm yet to read.

This is the bit I hate about books. When reading, I'm absorbed. With a good book, I'll be desperate for the end, not for it to be over, but so I know the entire story. But when it's over, when I have to choose the next book, that's the hardest bit. I have so many options. My mood over the next few days depends entirely on this selection. And whether my brother refunds my ice cream he stole, knowing it was mine ... sick of him doing that. Sick of him to be honest. But that's a whole other entry. Or series of entries.