Coming down like stair-rods

Usually Autumn is one of my favourite seasons but over the last two days in Lancashire there’s been nothing but hard, incessant rain coming down like stair-rods.  In case you don't know stair-rods are the straight metal rods that hold stair-carpets in place on each step.  So - essentially it means rain which is so heavy it looks like falling stair-rods.  As you know I’m a northern girl and we do like to use our little expressions! 

Today, whilst out travelling with DH we’ve had to contend with spray, crazy drivers, and flooded roads. The drains are so clogged up with fallen leaves that the excess rainwater has nowhere to go.  I was relieved to get home in one piece, I can tell you. So - that’s the weather - which recently I’ve realised I talk about an awful lot.  

So - what else have I been up to since my last blog?

DH and I have been on holiday again.  This time to Berlin in Germany where incidentally they were experiencing the most beautiful Autumn.  The colour of the fallen leaves lying in the parks and on the pavements was like nothing I’d ever seen before.  No rain - just perfect blue skies and cold, crisp days.  But now we’re back in the UK I feel as if I’ve nothing to look forward to.  Oh, I know Christmas will soon be here - with all the delights of the season - but after that we’ve at least two months of horrid winter temperatures and dark nights to look forward to.  And yes - I know - I’m talking about the weather again.

NaNoWriMo will take my mind off all this.  My writer friends all know the aim of this is to write a novel in a month.  As I’m aiming for Harlequin Mills and Boon I need to pen around 1600 words a day and even if this doesn’t come off and I don’t make my target, I know it’s going to be far more than I’ve ever written in a month before.  So maybe I should aim to do NaNoWriMo every other month? Just a thought.

Oh, and the most marvellous news of all - well, I think so anyway - is that in the new year I’m hopefully going to reduce my working hours to two days a week.  I had a chat with DH and he agrees that it’s now or never with regard to my writing.  I’m no longer the spring chicken I was and as I’m hurtling steadily towards retirement anyway, it’s time to take a step back from the day job.  This will, of course, give me much more time to write.  Exciting eh?  I can’t wait.

Until next time.

Kim x

The rain in Spain falls mainly on the Lains

There used to be a programme on the telly called Holidays from Hell.  Correct me if I'm wrong.

Well, here we are.  We're on it.  My husband and I.  We're experiencing the holiday from hell.  We've already complained bitterly and moved apartments once,  and now a couple of days later we're moving out completely into the luxurious gaff next door, where we should have booked in in the first place.   I really wish I could show you the photographic evidence - but I can't name names at this stage - not until I've done my trip advisor review - and then all hell will break loose I can promise you.  Oh, well, we live and learn, don't we?  We know next year not to book in here.   As they say in Lancashire - you pays your money and you takes your choice!

And coupled with the storm we had on Wednesday when the whole island experienced devastation from 116 kph winds causing fallen trees, high seas, and rain the like of which I have never seen in my life - it's all been slightly perturbing.

We observed the damage first hand as we hired a car and travelled around our favourite island with dismay etched on our faces.  There were huge trees ripped from their roots blocking the roads, sludge and silt covering the centre of our favourite resorts, having poured down from the hills.  In Cala Galdana, where years ago they diverted the river in a different direction, the force of nature had returned it to the original route, right across the beach.  The whole of the water in the bay was red from the soil that had been carried down on that stormy night.

So - apart from lots of fussing in Menorca - what have I been up since my last blog?

• I've been finishing my WIP - Tethered by Twins- which is now with my reader on the RNA NWS.

• I've entered the same manuscript in the Harlequin SYTYCW15 global writing contest on Wattpad - and heard a couple of days ago that I've made it through to the top 55! 

• I've also started my next story in readiness for the Advanced Writing course I'm attending in Fishguard with Kate Walker next February.  

So - quite a bit really!

Until next time.

Kim x

Moan, moan, moan

We're a funny old nation aren't we? We're in Corfu for eleven nights, and, as per usual, the grumbling has started.

We can hear it around the pool, in the dining room and on the terrace.  Whispers, nudges, rolling eyes, huddled figures.  Yes, it's the British at their best.

Complaining.

As a nation, generally, we adhere to rules and regulations, but when we're forced to abide by things we don't agree with, we don't like it one bit.  Especially in a foreign country.  We don't like the fact that the pool closes at 6.30 pm - no exceptions.  We hate it that the sun beds on the beach are whisked away at the same time - parasols folded up - gone.  What? I hear them say - we can't lie on the beach until late to catch the last rays of the sun?  But everyone knows that's the best time of the day.  Not too hot, not too cold - just right.  And what - the pool's roped off until ten to nine? We aren't allowed to throw down our towels at silly o'clock to nab the best beds? Never mind, here's the plan - we'll stroll down to breakfast at about quarter to, and lie in wait.

Two days after we arrived, all this had obviously got a bit too much for one particular gentleman, who in a fit of rage, grabbed all the towels off the beach and threw them in a heap.  Last seen running off to the German end of the beach, we never actually found out who it was.  Maybe the sun had got to him that day or he'd just had a hissy fit.  Either way, the rumours on the street are - he won't be allowed back.  Oh dear.  Don't cross the Greeks and especially not during a national crisis.

Seriously, DH and I are having a great time.  We love the Greek family who run our hotel.  They are super-kind and will go to the ends of the earth to make you feel welcome.   We're getting plenty of rest and relaxation and I'm managing to get a bit of writing done in between listening to the various conversations around the pool.

Don't people talk loudly?  Oops, I'm complaining again.

Until next time.

Kim x

We're leaving on a jet plane

It's been a while since my last blog and I have no excuse other than I've been trying to concentrate on my WIP which I intend to post off to the RNA on Saturday 1 August.  I've even denied myself the delights of Facebook for the last six weeks to get this done.

This is a self-imposed deadline, as I know I have a bit longer than that, but I'm afraid Drew and Anastasia are sorely trying my patience now with their angst and trauma.  Drew is damaged beyond repair, and Anastasia is the most fiery heroine I've ever written about.  If they aren't together and living happily ever after by then, then I'm afraid they've had it.  Kaput.

I've more ideas up my sleeve, you see.  Ideas that I'm itching to get down on paper.   But until my gorgeous Greek hero and stubborn red-head get their act together then I can't bring myself to start.  It hasn't helped that I had a stupid set-back the other day - I lost 6000 words!  Even my youngest son who is usually so hot on technology couldn't help, although it wasn't through lack of trying on his part.  It was just too catastrophic to mend.  It happened when I was try to synchronise my iPad and iMac and I saved the wrong version of my manuscript.  We live and learn.  I won't do that again in a hurry.

Luckily, we're off to Corfu in the morning, and during our lazy days on the beach, I intend to crack on and hopefully make this up.  My DH could see how upset I was by my foolish mistake and has promised to leave me alone to write.  Of course, I won't ignore him completely! I will try and spend  some time with him - hee hee.

Joking aside, I'm so looking forward to getting away.  If only there wasn't so much preparation to do before we leave.  Is anybody else like this?   Me - I have to clean the house from top to bottom, change all the beds, and not leave a scrap of laundry in the basket.

Why do I do this?  It's still going to be there when we return.  The dust will have settled again on all the surfaces.   The sheets won't have got any dirtier as we won't have slept in them for a fortnight - what is the point of it all?

As you can probably guess, I'm working myself up into my usual pre-holiday frenzy.  I won't relax until we've found a parking space at the airport, caught that ridiculous bus to fhe terminal (you know the one I mean - where there isn't enough room for everyone's cases and they're scattered all over the aisles) and checked in our luggage.  I detest standing in queues but there's no way around this one.  You're absolutely stuck.  Even the queue (supposed to be the baggage drop) where you've done online check-in is longer than the queue where you haven't already checked in!  Ridiculous.

Then even when you've been allocated your seat, and there is no possible way anyone else can sit in your spot, there is the last queue of all to contend with - the one when they announce that the plane is finally ready for boarding.  At first, it is all very sedate and orderly.  People are let through in some sort of sequence, but then the staff give up the pretence and that's when the real scrum starts.  Before now, My DH and I have refused to get involved.  We've kept the weight off our feet until there is nobody left at the gate.  Then we pick up our bags and stroll through.  We're too old for any of that other nonsense.

Have a great summer everyone.  Hope to meet many of you at the RNA tea party in York on
5 September.

Until next time.

Kim x

Diary of a hack in training

I hope you've all had a splendid Easter break.

Me?   Well, I've been a busy little bee.  Sort of.

Having been on holiday since 27 March I've been trying to throw myself into the spring cleaning.  My grand plan for my time off was to tackle one room at a time.  By this,  I mean really tackle them - tidying, dusting, cleaning windows, wiping paintwork, brushing away the cobwebs - yes, I'm ashamed to say there were lots of cobwebs.  In all sorts of places.

And to add further insult to injury, the garden is now demanding my attention too. The weather's been so cold in Lancashire recently that yesterday - Easter Sunday - was the first day I dared venture out to tackle the wilderness that is our front rockery.  Whilst my DH was peeling the vegetables, and slamming in the leg of lamb, I donned my gardening gloves and set about attacking the weeds with gusto.  Of course, the problem with both cleaning and gardening is that the results are only temporary. The hard work and effort you put in only looks good for a short time, and then it all needs to be done again.

Oh dear.  I'm the first to admit that I run out of patience with these things.   I soon get bored of housework and chores.  I set out with such good intentions, but I'm very easily distracted, and at the moment I have a much more important task on my mind which is attempting to 'interview' the hero and heroine in my WIP.  This might sound like a very odd thing to do but it was an idea given to me by the lovely Claire Walker whom I met on my writing retreat at Weetwood Hall in Leeds.

Claire's idea is to try to get to the nitty-gritty of your characters by asking them a set of questions. These can be anything you like, and the process is more or less along the same lines of an interview you might find in a magazine.  I'm writing mine in the first person from the POV of the reporter (me) and I'm loving it.  The words are flowing fast and over the last couple of days I've written almost 10,000 words!  I feel as if I'm now getting to the stage of knowing my characters inside out and back to front and this feels quite exciting.  The first chapter of my WIP is now complete as I've entered the Prima competition to write for Mills and Boon, and as soon as I finish my interviews with Drew and Anastasia, I can press on with telling their story.  This was Kate Walker's advice to me a couple of weeks ago - "tell their story," she said - and I'm going to try and follow her advice to the letter.

I'm conscious too that it's only around 20 weeks until the end of August, when I'll need to send off my manuscript to the RNA New Writers' Scheme.  20 weeks might sound like a long time, but it really isn't.

What I really need is a magic spell.  One that will instantly stop the weeds growing,  the dust settling and the cobwebs from appearing.

Anyone know any fairies?

Until next time

Kim x

Such a perfect day

Yesterday, we had the honour of being wedding guests at the long-awaited wedding of my niece held at a gorgeous venue near Keighley, West Yorkshire.

East Riddlesden Hall

My niece is a very talented Fine Arts graduate and so decided to make her own bouquet, the buttonholes, and the bridesmaids' posies herself.  What you probably can't make out from this photograph though is that they are all made from buttons!  How original is that?  They're off on their mini-moon tomorrow (main honeymoon later in the year) and I hope they have a fabulous time and a great future together.

Yesterday, when this young couple promised the rest of their life to each other,  I was listening to the words they had chosen to say,  and at the same time stealing a glance at the other guests surrounding me.  Without fail, the expressions on their faces held the clue as to what they were thinking.

For those of us who are already married, you can't help but do this.  You can't help but look at the  person at your side and remember your own wedding day, however long ago that was.

I have never forgotten how it felt to stand there in front of a large group of family and friends with my teeth chattering with nerves, my legs feeling like jelly and my heart beating with love.  And the best feeling of all?  When you walk back down the aisle with a huge smile on your face, hand in hand, knowing it's all over and you're married to the man of your dreams.


Until next time.

Kim x

Woe is me ....

I fell over in a car-park yesterday.

And it wasn't a quiet, deserted car-park either.  It was packed with shoppers and cars.  I have no idea what happened.  I was walking along merrily chatting to my husband when I just seemed to go over on my ankle.   The next time I looked, I was on the floor flat out.

The shame of it.  And the pain too.  I've never known anything like it.   My husband picked me up and I managed to hobble into the DIY store, where because of my dreadful ordeal, he took pity on me and bought me a cup of tea in the cafe.

And during all this my ankle was throbbing intensely.  I was convinced I'd broken it but my DH told me not to be silly.  'You can walk on it, can't you?' - he said, and then I reminded him of the time his late sister had walked around on a broken ankle for a week after being misdiagnosed at the hospital.  That made him ponder, so he even offered to treat me to a Danish pastry, but I was in so much pain, I turned him down, which is a real first for me, I can tell you.

Then our conversation turned to the time my late mum went through a phase of falling off the bus.  This might sound peculiar but those of you who are around my age (ahem) will remember the double-decker buses that were completely open at the back.  As teenagers we used to cling on to the rail with one hand, then gauge it so we could take a flying leap on to the pavement as the bus started to slow down.  In fact, my husband was once pushed clean off one of these things by his so-called mate and managed to rip the knees completely out of his school trousers.

Anyway, I digress.  Back in the seventies, my poor mother did go through a phase of falling off the bus.  I'm certain she didn't try and leap off the back like we did, but I know on at least three occasions she fell off the back platform on to the pavement.  There were no mobile phones in those days so it was left to one of the other passengers to pick her up and bring her home.  I remember once or twice she made a real mess of her knees by landing on the surface of the road.

The real point to all this is - I hope my mum's bad luck, misfortune or whatever you'd call it has not been passed down to me.  I don't relish the thought of turning into someone who falls over for no apparent reason, or, as they say in Lancashire - trips over fresh air.  Sorry mum.

The walk back to the car yesterday seemed endless.  It was probably only a couple of hundred yards but it felt like a mile.  DH said he would go and get the car but I refused and limped on.   I'll definitely give him much more sympathy the next time his gout flares up.

I should have taken up the offer of the walking stick he offered to buy me whilst in the store.

Get it bought.  We'll share it, my dear.

Until next time.

Kim x