Pedantry

 I admit to being a bit picky about the use, and misuse, of words. I'm not perfect, far from it, but I did benefit from an education in a time when grammar was still taught in schools, and my mother had a posh boyfriend when she was a teenager and he used to tell her what was correct English. Whether this was patronising mansplaining or not, I don't know - he was long gone before I arrived on the scene - but she passed nuggets of information down to me.

So there it is - a bit picky. Things that don't actually have me hurling books at the wall or yelling at the radio, but still provoke a deep, long suffering sigh. 

Things that provoke the sighing? Comprising of. You don't need the of - it is just comprising. It is alarming how often you find this mistake in books and articles. OK - the writer may not know, but the editor, whose job it is to manage the words, should surely pick it up? Another  of that gets me sighing is bored of. It's bored with, people. I suspect I'm on a loosing battle there as the former seems to be becoming accepted use. 

I still recite  - different from, similar to - on occasion. I think that was one of the ones that came from the boyfriend.

Popular sayings also get on my nerves. Often connected to people in politics - I wonder whey that might be. Pet hates at the moment? At pace. What's wrong with fast, quickly, rapidly, as soon as possible? Another one - watching on - to me it doesn't even make sense! The on is redundant. 

A lot of the problems come from those pesky little prepositions. The things you're not supposed to end a sentence with. Tiny, but full of pitfalls. 

That's my moan for this week. As I said, I am not perfect. I have trouble with lose and loose and lie and lay but I do know that I have to look them up, which helps. 

The world is not going to end because of a preposition, but I will still be the one sighing heavily in the corner when one gets misplaced. 

So - what else did you do in London?

 The prime purpose of my visit to London was the flower show - subject of last week's blog, and to see old friends. But it wasn't just that - I was there for a week. I had a fabulous, if expensive, time. London, particularly eating out, has got very pricey. My credit card chickens are now coming home to roost! It was worth it though. 

So - what did I do? Well, there was a coffee morning at the Society of Authors - a chance to see the office, meet officials of what is effectively my trade union,  chat and laugh with other authors from all sorts of genres and eat some delicious pastries.  It was a interesting morning. I followed it up with a trip on the bus to Battersea Power station - my 'mastery' of the London bus system is one of my recent achievements. When I lived there I was strictly a tube girl. The old power station is a cavernous space, with a mix of chain shops and specialised stores, lots of eating places and a very nice bookshop. I enjoyed some retail therapy and dinner. Thursday I did the environs of Oxford Street, seeing a friend, with a lecture in the evening on Tarot cards, with wine, at Occult bookshop Treadwells. The speaker - Melissa Mercury - was informed and entertaining on the use of the cards in books and films. Another enjoyable evening. 

Friday I found my way down to Dulwich, to the picture gallery  and an exhibit of the paintings of Tirzah Garwood. She was the wife, then young widow, of the war artist Eric Ravilious. Like many artistic wives she was an artist in her own right and the exhibition was impressive. I have art tutor Stephen Parker to thank for that day out, as he introduced me to her work as part of his Cardiff university class on art and gardens.  Saturday was lunch with friends and a concert at St Martin's in the Fields. it was Mozart's Requiem - which for some reason always sparks creative ideas. I bet I was the only member of the audience sending a Bentley over a cliff. Writers are funny like that - well this one is. I do hope I get round to writing the book that goes with it. 

Sunday I ambled around Covent Garden with a free afternoon concert at St Martin's, celebrating world football day. I had no idea that was a thing, but we heard some fine singing of various soccer anthems.

And then it was time to come home. As I have said, I really enjoyed it.  Will I do it again? I really don't know. But I have some good memories and maybe the opening of a new book. We will all have to wait and see.

This year's Chelsea

 Regular readers will know my weakness for gardens. So a trip to the Chelsea Flower Show is high on my list of desirable things to do. I treated myself to an expensive all day ticket for the first Members' day - the one after the royals and the celebs go - and this year I was there before nine a.m. I didn't make it so early last year as the RNA Awards ceremony was the night before! This year there was no book and no short listing, so I was able to give the flowers my full attention. Even at that time in the morning the place was crowded and the show gardens were five or six deep in spectators. I had a hit list though, so was able to find my way to the things I wanted to see and view them reasonably well. I had a good time. It was a glorious day and I managed to get around with numerous stops to sit for a few minutes and rest my hip problem. And of course, I took pictures. My favourite garden was from Jewellers Boodles, inspired by their Raindance diamond collection. I liked the diamonds too, but they are way out of my price range! I liked the garden because it was so pretty, with pastel planting that I hope to eventually use for inspiration in mine. The design won a gold medal, but I didn't see it featured in any of the TV broadcasts, but perhaps I missed it. The TV I saw seemed to be more interested in displays featuring rust and weeds - but everyone to their own taste. I go for the plants. I can grow my own weeds, thanks. 

Detail of the planting from the garden -
I took it to remind me what I want to emulate. 

Roses were high on my list of things I wanted to see.
I picked the brains of the stall holders in the Pavilion over what would do well in pots. 

Clematis. Triumph of hope over experience as I have never managed to keep one alive.
I am going to have another go. Wish me luck. 

Lilies. I bought bulbs - I think they are the same ones as last year. I will find out, as last years have come up. For once the slugs didn't get them. 

Climbers. I bought myself a plumbago - the blue one in the middle, as I had never seen one before. It made it home with me and has new flowers, so I have my fingers crossed. 

Peonies. At some stage I have to have one of these beauties, although I have heard they are not easy to grow.

Peonies. At some stage I have to have one of these beauties,
although I have heard they are not easy to grow. 

I've been there.

 At this time of the year publishers are promoting books that feature holiday destinations . It seems that we like to take books like that on holiday with us. Or maybe, if the bank balance is looking a bit thin, enjoy a bit of vicarious travel, or do a little gentle research to places we would like to visit or to revisit places we have enjoyed. My Riviera books come into that category - currently £2.99 for a three box set on Amazon. Writer friends Eva Glyn and Jan Baynham have new books, both set in glorious Greek locations, due out in the next few week. I'm currently reading Murder in Tuscany by T A Williams, which is cosy crime and holiday vibes.  

Holiday books to read in the sunshine, or in the rain, are fine, but I have recently been reading two thrillers that lean into their city location - Harlen Coben's Nobody's Fool and (a re-read) Robert Goddard's Beyond Recall - one set in New York and the other in various UK locations but particularly London for a key scene. In the case of the Harlen Coben the front end paper is actually a photo of New York. Both cities can of course be holiday destinations, but there is a very different feel. Having read them back to back I was struck by how both authors use the details of the city to add colour to the story. I assume you can drive the routes that Sami takes through New York (I've never driven in New York and am never going to in this lifetime) and see the buildings - although the Locke Horne building which is mentioned does not actually exist, outside the author's books.

I was especially interested in that scene from the Goddard. It takes place at Baker Street tube station where two characters 'meet' on separate platforms, one the up line and the other the down, and converse across the track. I've always wanted to write a 'London' book - still on the bucket list - and I can remember standing on that tube platform and envisaging exactly the same sort of scene. I can't recall now whether this was before or after reading Beyond Recall - I think it was before, but I can't do it now, as it would look like plagiarism. It's a striking scene that resonates if you happen to know Baker Street station well, which I do, and it certainly adds texture to the book. 

Now I have to find another location I can use - if the London book ever gets off the bucket list.  

Where have you been?

 I began this blog in 2011, when I had just won a publishing contract for Never Coming Home. Since then I have blogged every week, without fail, whatever was happening in my life - my publishing life or my life as a human being - and there have been many ups and downs, highs and lows over the years. In all that time, whatever the situation, I managed to show up. Until the beginning of April this year, when my wi-fi connection - and my land line phone - disappeared, and stayed gone until this week. I managed to hold on to my e-mails (just) via my mobile phone and a few trips to the library, but I could not get into the blog or my social media, and didn't want to risk losing it all by a ham fisted effort that shut me out for good. So - no posts. 

We were told that the problem was in the telegraph pole and that a new one was needed. It was promised on 1st May. Not sure if that was meant to be a joke - Maypole? Anyway, it didn't happen and then a few days ago there was suddenly an announcement that connection had been restored, without having to have a new pole at all. 

I'm glad to be back, but very annoyed that my record for the blog has been broken and that I have missed a lot of news from friends and colleague who probably thought I was ghosting them! I am now working hard to catch up.

In the hiatus the kitchen is finished, bar some painting, and I am now laboriously cleaning brick dust off everything. I went to Aberystwyth and had a great time at Crime Cymru. I am working to get the house back in some sort of order - slow but steady. And provided my internet does not disappear again, I will be blogging every Wednesday, as usual. 

Chaos 3 - or when did you last see the frying pan?

 New kitchen update. It's getting better! Not complete, but all the major stuff is done and I am very pleased. Eventually there may even be pictures! 

I was on my own for the first time in ages yesterday - actually that is not quite true, as the builders were around for half an hour and a tea break, collecting debris to transport to the skip. I am awaiting the electrician - lights - and the painter and decorator - for the bits that are not tiled. But we are getting there. 

Now it is a matter of cleaning - much of the ground floor of the house is covered with a fine layer of dust.  And I need to figure out what goes in which cupboard as I now have a lot more of them. And I have to find things. The contents of the kitchen is also spread over the ground floor of the house, hence the comment about the frying pan. The muddle is major, but it will eventually be conquered. I just have to stick at it. Wish me luck.   

Still Chaos

 Well, I still don't have a working kitchen, but the damp problem has been attended to and I am in hope of having a functioning sink this week. But don't say anything about the washing machine, please. Doing all the washing up in the upstairs bathroom is getting very wearing, the house is cold - all those open doors and trying to concentrate on anything is hard, with so much happening. Not sure why having work done in one room seems to spread all over the house - and the dust...

Once it is finished then I'll have to clean it - but that is a joy for another day. 

Normal service next week - fingers crossed. 

Chaos

 When you live in a house that is well on its way to its second century things need doing from time to time. Currently it is the kitchen, work which involved removing the units to see what was going on behind them. As a result I have not had a functioning kitchen since last Tuesday! All will be well - eventually - but in the meantime it's a bit chaotic here. Hence the short and rather distracted post. 

Hope that normal service will be resumed without too much delay. 

Motive

 One of the threads that crime writers are very involved with is motive. Why does the villain do that? What is the reason behind the crime? We need to know. I've been told that in the real world of crime fighting not so much. Other evidence is found to be more useful.  Certainly writers and readers need to know about it. Successful books are often lauded for the memorable characters and maybe motive fits with this.

As a writer who combines two genres I read both crime and romance. I tend towards what is known as the 'cosy' end of the crime spectrum - the Agatha Christie type puzzle. Cosies are essentially domestic and so are the motives - love, hate, envy, revenge, greed - most of the seven deadly sins.  Occasionally there is a plot involving spies and state secrets - I'm thinking of Sherlock Holmes, called in when some top secret plans go missing and saving the day - but these tend to be historical settings, where the venue is often the country house party for the plans to be discussed in a meeting arranged out of the spot light. So - still on a domestic level, possibly with a locked room element added to the mix. Modern spy stories are a different matter and a genre of their own. 

I'm also an occasional reader of the more sweeping thriller - mostly American - the kind of thing written by Harlan Coben. I struck me, having just finished one of these that the motive here is something that does not really occur in a cosy - power. Often a cover up when someone who is seeking it wants to obliterate evidence of some past sin. 

It's something I am going to think about.

Books in different mediums

 

Warning - may be minor spoilers 

Last week I went to see the theatre version of Murder on the Orient Express, which is currently touring. Very good - stylish set, good ensemble acting and an excellent central performance by Michael Maloney as Poiret. I highly recommend it. Having seen it I returned to the original Agatha Christie book to check on things that I thought had been changed. It was an interesting comparison exercise. Fewer suspects- understandable as large casts on stage cost money. A dramatic shooting that ended the first act - an idea lifted, I suspect, from Death on the Nile (which will also be touring later this year).  Differences in the characters. Rachett - the victim - was very different from the book - a flamboyant gangster based on the version played by Jonny Depp in the Ken Branagh film - the Albert Finny version  played by Richard Widmark was nearer to the original.  The biggest change was the central role of Mrs Hubbard. From a typical American widow abroad she has metamorphosed into a glamourous man eater. A great deal of fun, and played with gusto on stage by  Christine Kavanagh appears to have undergone the sea change in the Finney version when Lauren Bacall played the part. There are other small things, but most of what I remembered from the book are there. 

It made me think about the life that a book has outside a book. Film, TV, audio. There are stories of authors being heart broken over changes made - with general advice of 'Take the money and run' being regularly handed out. 

I don't do audio - tends to send me to sleep - but I know lots of people love it. Film in various guises is always interesting. I know I have been one of the indignant mob when a favourite has been mangled.

But we always have the book - the place where it is just you and the author and your imagination. The place where it all begins. 

It's in the cards.

 I have a very long standing fascination with Tarot cards - so it was no real surprise that when the Warburg Institute announced that the opening exhibition for its new  gallery space, following a multi million refurbishment, would be a Tarot exhibition that I organised a quick day trip to London  to take a look. 

It was worth it. Not a large exhibition and with an academic flavour, as one would expect from an organisation that is part of London University, it was a wonderful glimpse into the history of these fascinating cards. Originating as playing cars for a game similar to Bridge, over time they evolved into the devices for divination that we now associate with the pack. The historic cards on display - some dating from Italy in the time of the Renaissance - were worth seeing and I was especially interested too in the small section that dealt with new realisations of the cards, using all sorts of art work, many originatng in the pandemic. The ducal courts of Italy had cards painted by the court painters  -luxurious and beautiful - but the deck that is most recognisable is of course the Ryder Waite Smith deck. Ryder the publisher, Waite the interpreter of the meanings and Pamela Coleman Smith - for may years barely acknowledged - as the creator who did the art work. Unacknowledged like so many women artists in the past, but now getting her proper recognition. I don't like the way the word iconic has become an overused buzz word, but in this case I think it is applicable. If you think of the Tarot this will be the deck that comes to mind.  

The Tarot features in the Work In Very Slow Progress and the exhibition, and the work I am doing for the current evening class on Paganism has crystalised how it will feature in the book. It is a great feeling when you suddenly get an insight of how part of the plot is going to work out. 

One of the best parts of being a writer. 

More legacy

 Last week I was looking at the big life changing inheritance - property. But an inheritance can be a much smaller item - and a whole heap of trouble. 

This one probably veers a bit more to the suspense/crime end of the spectrum. 

Letters and journals - opening a can of worms on family history. A piece of furniture - does it have a secret drawer? Jewelry - what is its history? 

You know what the say - where there's a will there's a wrangle. The possibilities are enthrallingly wide. 

A secret where the inheritee doesn't know what they have. A secret where they do know that there is a secret, but not what it is, and have to find it. A contested will - possibly resulting in a trail of dead bodies? 

Inherited paper opens a whole different scenario. I have debated with fellow writers that it is very difficult to write any kind of dual time story without a paper trail. The different time periods have to be able to communicate somehow and letters and journals are the easiest way. In time slip a piece of art - a painting or an object - might be a key. Dual times that revolve around family are essentially domestic - concealed  births and unknown families are favourites. DNA investigations are suggesting possible new routes to family mysteries, but I don't think we will ever tire of the good old lost diary. 

I haven't found the deeds to the castle in my decluttering but I haven't any diaries or lost jewels either. You probably need a much bigger scenario than the average family - most of us know where all this stuff came from. There are family stories and legends to accompany items that are passed down. Family secrets can be a bit different. I know of a few in my own family that might make the start of a book, if I ever wanted to write it. I don't think so - I'd rather use my imagination. Let the past keep its privacy. 

But you can't beat a good legacy for kicking off a plot. 

the legacy story

 Continuing the campaign to declutter the house, I am ploughing through shelves, drawers, cupboards. A lot of stuff is mine, but there is also a lot that has been inherited - my mother's wedding china, a Georgian rummer that was my grandfather's, tools that belonged to my dad, books, small items of jewelry, ornaments. 

It occurred to me while sorting all this stuff that many readers enjoy a 'legacy' story. I do myself - reading them and writing them. And they come in a wide variety from a basic premise. An inheritance. 

The big ticket item is obviously property. Although most of us know that there is no way that a mysterious unknown uncle is suddenly going to leave us a mansion, and that the odds of it actually happening IRL to anyone else are probably pretty steep, it is still an attractive day dream 

What if ...

I was thinking of the possibilities.

The inheritance that is not a mystery - a protagonist who knows they will inherit. This usually involves  keeping up a family home or business, with a lot of themes of responsibility and duty. A protagonist torn between expectation and following their own dreams?

That unexpected inheritance. All sorts of mysteries here, across the spectrum from romance to crime.  Finding out about the person who made the will, finding out about the property itself - it can be a cottage or a stately home, an historic mansion or  the modern equivalent of Sleeping Beauty's castle. A Gothic ruin ...

Lots of fun here. the life changing effect on the protagonist being only the start of the story. They have to decide to live there, or at the very least to visit. No fun if the place is put straight on the market, sight unseen. Often it comes when the hero/heroine is at a cross roads in their life. Decisions, decisions.  It perhaps means learning new skills like estate management (thinking historical here - usually involving an unexpected title as well). As with the expected inheritance it also can carry previously unknown responsibilities. It might involve a location the protagonist has never experienced before - lots of 'fish out of water' potential.

Then there is the mystery of the mystery 'Why me?' 

It's not surprising that it is a popular plot device. 

And no - I haven't found the deeds to a castle in the highlands amongst my grandmother's collection of Victorian novels. 

Not yet, anyway.

The story behind the story.

 Backstory. 

Every book has one. 

Sometimes they are more visible than others. Writers are warned against the 'info dump'  - leaving a pile of  background information lying in a heap at the beginning of a novel. Information should be released slowly and carefully, threaded through the narrative like a string of jewels. Hah! I'm getting poetic! 

Basically, let the information out slowly. 

Except when you don't let it out at all. 

Sometimes the backstory is something the author needs to know, but it doesn't have to be revealed to the reader - or only in the most subtle way. It helps the writer, but it's not part of the story they are currently telling.

I had one in A Villa in Portofino. Megan inherits property from her great aunt who disappeared from the family records after the war. A little of the story of how this came about appears in the novel, but not the whole thing. I know exactly how it came about, and how she met and fell in love with an Italian Prisoner of War and then eloped with him. I've told myself I might write that love affair as a short story one day. Maybe. The idea came from a tiny detail about POWs that I found in the Council records when I was researching the PhD. 

And it seems to be happening again for the WIP. I'm not sure yet but as part of my research I'm delving into the history of Tarot cards, by way of an evening course at the university. The origin of the cards, and the beautiful hand painted ones that were produced by artists for ducal courts in 15th century Italy has attached itself to an idea that I was already working with for the book. 

It's not fully formed yet. but I have that faint tingling up the spine that happens when I know something is organising itself in my head. Will it be part of the book? In an overt form, I don't think so. But it is giving shape to something that was already there.

It's a buzz that comes from the creative process. It's one of the reasons that I write. 

 

The paper mountain

 There are times in the life of every author when 'Life' gets in the way of the writing. I'm having one at the moment, which is why the WIP isn't. It will be back on track, but not at the moment. My current bout of Life is self inflicted. I am trying to declutter the house in a major way. I'm also having a variety of building work done, but that is another story.  The decluttering is proceeding at a slow and stately pace - and I have to say that much of it involves paper. The house is groaning with it. I am clearly a paper dragon, collecting it and sitting proudly on top of my hoard. 

Well, it has to go. 

Bills, bank papers, a connoisseur's collection of rejection letters - all now ceremonially shredded - the floors have a light covering of confetti style paper slivers. On the basis on what I am turning out the year 2016 clearly went on for at least 36 months. I am attempting to do it in a measured way, hence the stately progress, but I do feel that I am winning. One of the most interesting little clumps was my ideas folder, a hefty zebra affair which had expanded to fill a large wicker shopping bag. Outlines for books of which I have no recollection, fragments from books that sadly will probably never be written, press cuttings that might be useful, notes of talks. It was an entertaining evening going through them. I have weeded, not decimated, and I will be looking at them again in due course (what a lovely bureaucratic phrase) to see what gems there might be lurking. Talking of gems, there were some delightful surprises - no less that six new or nearly new notebooks!!!!   

As I said, I am winning, although I have just remembered the tin truck upstairs that has all my notes and drafts for the PhD in it. That will be a few afternoons worth of work. 

And probably no pretty notebooks.

Unusual research

 I'm an academic at heart. Which is why I gravitate to taking courses when I want to research something- or maybe just for fun. Alright, yes, I am a nerd. 

This term I am doing a course from the Cardiff University Lifelong Learning programme - evening classes to you and me. It is Neo Paganism, taught by one of my favourite tutors - folklore expert Dr Juliette Wood. She gave an entertaining talk last week as part of the University's regular monthly public zoom lecture series - not part of this course - on vampires. The history from classical times was traced all the way to modern depictions on film and in books. All the famous screen portrayals were mentioned - Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee, Tom Cruise, Robert Pattinson. Questions and discussion at the end went on for nearly half an hour including  whether it was possible for a vampire to be vegetarian. And as vampires are fictitious, why not?  I won't be writing any vampires in the near future - although I have been asked - and I have friends who write them. I have to say Christopher Lee is 'my' Dracula. I still remember the BBC's late night double bills of Hammer Horror on a Saturday evening. I was living in Uxbridge at the time and as many of the outdoor scenes were filmed in nearby Black Park a lot of location spotting went on. 

 But I digress. The ten weeks on Neo Paganism will cover a variety of topics. No vampires, but witches, druids, popular fiction, art, the Tarot cards ... I'm very interested in them, as they are playing a part in the book I hope eventually will emerge. The object of the course, as I understand it, is to trace how these occult topics have become a part of current popular culture. 

I'm looking forward to it and I'll keep you posted on what I learn. 

Wales romance day.

 Extra special post for 25th January. 

Forget St Valentine - today is St Dwynwen's Day! 

Dydd Santes Dwynwen Hapus

Using all the senses.

 Writers are reminded frequently to use all the senses, so that the reader gets a rounded experience. But applying it to viewing art is a new idea, 

Last week I made my first foray into the wide world of this year - all the way to Birmingham with a friend - to a small but fascinating exhibition at the Barber Institute. It was Pre-Raphaelite paintings, for which Birmingham is well known, but this time the exhibits had been curated with attention to what the pictures might smell like. I told  you it was a new idea. On a sunny morning we explored the university campus, where the Institute is located, with special attention to coffee shops and places to eat, and then the exhibition.

Not only had an effort been made to select paintings that suggested scent - flowers and incense in particular - but three fragrance had been created to accompany the exhibition - two for The Blind Girl, by Millais - two beggar girls, sitting in a field, with a rainbow overhead - and one for A Saint of the Eastern Church, by Simeon Solomon - a young acolyte holding a flower sprig and an incense burner. The theory behind the display was the Victorian interest in scent and smell - in particular the idea that miasma or bad air was responsible for such diseases as Cholera. It was pointed out that Victorian Britain was probably a much smellier place than it is now.  

Did the idea work? Not sure. I can't say that the scents for the Millais did much for me - no real suggestion of rain washed meadows, and the second one, meant to be the smell of the girl's shawl, would have been better depicted, for me, by the odour of wet wool!   I got more from the incense of the second canvas. 

I will say it was worth the visit. I got to see two paintings by Waterhouse  - my favourite Pre Raph - that I had not seen before. The theory of the exhibition was interesting and not something I had encountered previously. It was a reminder to look at paintings in more detail - to examine the setting and potential scents of flowers and other depictions in the painting, and also a reminder that authors should use the five senses when writing.

All in all an excellent day out.  

Titles - things aren't what they used to be?

 Have you noticed - or is it just me, that book titles are not quite so poetic, literary, romantic - in the fullest sense of the word, as they used to be? I'm thinking of some of Mary Stewart's -  Nine Coaches Waiting, This Rough Magic both from plays, Jane Aitkin Hodge's Watch the Wall my Darling - from a poem, a number of Agatha Christies from Shakespeare - By the Pricking of My Thumbs, Taken at the Flood . Shakespeare and the Bible are very popular in the past, but would we use them now? They sound fabulous, and to me enticing - but do they tell us what the book is about, except in a general way?

In the days of key words and algorithms it seems genre titles have become blunter. As the saying goes - the book's contents  is what it says on the tin.  The title tells the reader the protagonist - Daughter, Mother, Sister, Girl. The location - library, bookshop, bakery - often with the name of a (made up) place which  tells you whether it is English country village or small town America. A time - usually Christmas or summer. It can be a quote, but not from a poem but from a character in the book -   a threat or a promise to tell, of retribution, in the 'I know X about you' vein.. 'Murder' and 'death' are popular in crime. If you are writing Regency a duke is obligatory, made up, of course are there are not enough real ones to go round. One word titles - or two word with the addition of 'The' are striking.

 You see what I mean? Have a look. and a think, next time you are in the book aisle of the supermarket.  It doesn't apply universally - but I think it is noticeable - and it certainly gives the reader a clear idea of what they might be reading, and if they will like it. 

Also - do we read plays, poems, Shakespeare, the Bible as much as we did - are we less likely to recognise a classic quote? 

A simple title has it's virtues. 

Well, what about it 2025?

 New year - a time for the start of wonderful things? 

At this time of year I actually feel drawn to the idea of being a bear - an excuse to eat a lot, and sleep, also a lot. Despite the passing of the solstice it is still dark ... and cold. Humans are expected to greet the new year with gusto - resolutions, life plans, new leaves  to be turned over - all that stuff. When the new year comes in, my mind always turns to the Gate of the Year poem by Minnie Louise Haskins which talks about walking into the unknown. It was used in the King's Christmas broadcast in 1939, the first Christmas of the Second World War, and created quite a stir. My grandmother had a text - I think published by a newspaper - in a frame. My mother would recite it to herself when she had to go out in the dark of the blackout to go to work and when she got married asked my grandmother if she could have it. I grew up with it and read it at her funeral - didn't really read it as I also knew it by heart. It was also apparently read at the funeral of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother. All this is very sombre - but a new year is a step into the unknown. 

What is on the horizon? A few things I know will be different - neither the Romantic Novelists' nor the Crime Writers' Association  are having conferences this year, but other events are springing up, taking their place.  I don't currently have a book in production - although I hope that will change by the end of the year. I am having a lot of work done on the the house to keep it and me from falling over, which is exciting and nerve racking, as these things are. Also expensive! 

So - no resolutions as experience has shown that you never know what is before you. Hopes and plans, yes. 

If you have made resolutions I wish you every success. if not, then we will muddle through together and enjoy the months as they pass. 

Happy New Year. 

Happy New Year

 

Wishing all my readers the very best for 2025.