Hey there, please excuse me while I bunch my unruly hair up in a band and take some deep breaths. I’m huffing, my heart is racing and I’m sweaty.  No.  This is not some erotica site you’ve stumbled across.  I’ve walked the length of my house, back and forward, trying to increase my heart rate by exercising for 20 minutes. No Jo Wicks for me, I have a degenerative disc disease that, in a nutshell, accelerates wear and tear of my cervical spine.  A fourth op maybe on the horizon.  My December MRI presented a bulging disc making an indentation on the cord. My April appointment with neurosurgeon bombed because of Corona.  I need to stay safe but not become a couch potato so when my husband walks the dogs, I pop my earpods in, select my SEPTEMBER (new book) Spotify playlist and off I go, into my imagination, to where I walk along the beach, bare-footed, feeling the cold, wet sand between my toes.

Whilst breathing in the salty air, I listen to song of the week https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxFYc1P2W2I

I’ve not watched much TV; I’m working on my third and fourth novels, SEPTEMBER and POROUS but I’m loving NORMAL PEOPLE.  Having read the book, I was a little doubtful about it successfully converting to screen.  I need not have worried; I am totally enthralled by the show and the characters. I feel their twisty guts and raw emotions, as opportunities pass them by to flourish in their relationship.  No two people in book history were as destined as these two for a happy ending.   Whilst reading NP I had no visual of Marianne or Connell.  I was in their heads.  No doubt physical attributes and fashions were embedded, but I was caught up in their internal battles and the stops and starts of their relationship. I think the themes of vulnerability, anxiety, low self-worth are spot on in this tv drama; such an astute depiction of how we can be our own worst enemy.   Watching the series has added value to how I view the book, I’m just more in love with Sally Rooney than ever.

You may have noticed I’ve been selling my books on eBay.   My bookcases were packed full, I had book towers in all rooms, but no laptop since I published Henry Whittle in December.  Sadly my dinosaur died.  I had been saving my royalties, but they were too measly, but they did cover the cost of a cheap printer.  No laptop meant no book writing so I’ve branched out as an eBay book seller.  I feel hugely attached to my books which probably sounds weird.   I might pick one up, feel the cover, gently fan the pages, smell it, and it might remind me of when I read it: what I was doing, who I was with and I’d give it a gentle hug.

I’m enjoying my eBay adventure though.  Particularly the feedback from buyers.  One lovely buyer read Random Attachment and a day later her review was up.  In some ways I’m having more success on this platform.  Probably because Amazon are not showing me any love!  But I’m told fifty reviews is key, so I’m virtually begging readers to rate my books.  Until I hit the big five 0 I will sell Random Attachment and The Rebirth of Henry Whittle on eBay in a book bundle.  But the good news is I have a new laptop, which I’m using now, whilst crying with happiness.  The laptop has been a long time coming but I got there and now I’m hoping my novels will take-off.

My book of the week is THE CHESTNUT MAN.  I love a bit of scandi-noir.  Probably because the landscape lends itself to chilling: the vastness, the isolation, the darkness, ooh, it’s got me scared all over again.  This is a book I would happily reread, even though I know who The Chestnut Man is and his motivation.  The writer has crafted a dark, unnerving boogieman and that’s hard to do when audiences have read thousands of similar books.  I was scared and creeped out.  More so than when I read The Whisper Man.  It was gory but not overkill and I liked the dynamic between the detectives.  Each character had a role to play and had the potential to be our sicko psycho.  I flew through this book, hungry for the next word, and the next, so it’s an easy five stars from me.

As you may know I am missing my daughters’ big time.  My youngest, Kitty, 20, is in lockdown at her boyfriend’s family home.  I’m happy for her because she would have gone crazy missing Zac and she’d be under house arrest here because I’m in isolation. But a tiny bit of me is jealous.  Yes, when I see how well she’s fitted into her other family, my green eyes turn neon.  I love that she’s in a happy place, but that place is over the hills and far away.  I’ve said happy twice, what does that tell us?  You tell me!  Now we’ve established I’m a needy, stalker mum we’ll call time.  Stay safe my bookish friends. xxxx