Laurie Graham's Blog, page 6

Multiplication

This is what happens when a person is entering Week 3 of lockdown and discovers, in the back of a cupboard, an unopened packet of origami paper. Finding a fiver down the arm of the sofa could not have brought me more joy. I might have spent the afternoon writing or sewing or even sitting in the sun and catching a few rays, but no. The urge to make Easter rabbits was irresistible.

As you’ll have noticed, ‘mindfulness’ has recently been having a moment. Personally, I’m a big fan of mindlessness. I favour activities that allow the over-busy brain to slip out of gear and coast. Knitting is good, unless it’s a tricky pattern.  Origami is brilliant, once you’ve figured out the folds for whatever you want to create, and all it takes is a piece of paper.

The funny thing is, I only remember making two rabbits. Then I turned my back for a few hours and look what happened.

Happy Easter, dear readers.

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Things My Mother Didn’t Tell Me

Now I look back, there are a lot of things my Mum omitted to tell me. Such as ‘Do not suffer fools’ and ‘Learn how to use an Excel spreadsheet, my girl.’ I’ve just spent a whole morning manually loading information from Excel into another document and I have cursed through gritted teeth my lack of tech-knowhow. But the task is completed, my mailing list is up to scratch and I can now get on with Any Other Business.

To be fair to my mother, she would never have heard of Excel. She’d probably have thought it was a cleaning product. However, she did teach me how to make pastry (shortcrust, puff and hot water) and how to turn a frayed shirt collar. Also, to eat an apple every day and get to bed by three. I wonder what I haven’t taught my daughters?

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Ol’ Rocking Chair Don’t Got Me… Yet

Greetings from locked-down Ireland and first, an apology. I’ve been nagging people to sign up for my mailing list but it now appears that the link isn’t working, so anyone who signed up recently still doesn’t appear on the list. I’m very sorry. I’ll investigate.

The new isolation rules in Ireland are causing some confusion. It is recommended that the over-70s cocoon themselves but as I live alone and need to fend for myself as far as possible, I decided to use my common sense. I am, anyway, a darned sight fitter than many younger than me.

Yesterday I set off for the supermarket, stepping out briskly and hoping that a bit of lipstick and a smile would help me to pass for 69. At the supermarket a member of staff came along the queue asking if anyone was over 70. I thought ‘uh-oh, am I about to get arrested for non-compliance?’ and looked busily at my feet. A man in the queue owned to being 83.

‘In that case, sir,’ said Supermarket Clerk, ‘if you’d like to follow me, you have priority. No need to queue. Please come straight in.’

That’ll larn me.

I’m professionally and personally accustomed to solitude and silence but the current crisis has brought about a few changes in even my life. I’ve cured an aching shoulder by giving up handbags. Instead of hauling around a no doubt germ-ridden bag full of rocks and what feels like a full set of Encyclopaedia Britannica, I’m now using a small cross-body purse just big enough for a bit of cash and my keys. I’m also eating some interesting food combinations, predicated on what needs consuming first. And I’ve been dragged kicking and screaming into using an app called Zoom, which makes it possible for me and my family across the water to see each other and chat. All good. One person I know who is relishing isolation is my autistic granddaughter. No noisy school playground, no social obligations, just long hours entertaining herself. She has never been happier.

As promised I have a little bonus for you, in case you have time on your well-washed hands. An exclusive interview with the Duchess of Windsor which you can read here, A Word from Wally

Yes, yes, I know she’s been dead more than thirty years but I’m a novelist. I have artistic licence.

Next up, thanks for the suggestion, Emma: some emergency store cupboard recipes from Lizzie Partridge.

 

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Not About You-Know-What

My aim today is to write a few blog paras without actually discussing you-know-what. Aren’t you just bored witless by the endless theorising and rune-casting? Aren’t you weary of reading more about random acts of selfishness than you do about discreet acts of kindness? And hark, do we hear the rumble of bandwagon wheels? Articles on how to dress for working from home (I got that figured about thirty years ago) and delicious dishes to make from a can of lentils and a clove of garlic. So…

Business as usual, here. I’ve been reconsidering my plan, formulated on advice from successful self-promoters,  to be a better and more frequent correspondent with my mailing list subscribers. My March mail-out, in which I gave them an exclusive interview with Trevor Buxton, was only opened by 65% of recipients. Even allowing for natural wastage, I find myself wondering whether this is worth the candle.  I know my readers. They’re not big mailing list people. Therefore, contrary to received wisdom, I thought I’d just create a new page on this website, a generally available repository for extra stuff such as my proposed series, Interviews with a Character.

However, I’m always fearful of messing up my lovely website so until I’ve consulted my webmaestra on how to set up the new page, I’ll simply embed a link in a blog post. Here is the interview with Dr Buxton, Trevor Buxton in Conversation.  And coming very soon, the Duchess of Windsor’s take on Megxit.

Stay well, dear readers. Oops, nearly mentioned it.

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How Doth the Little Busy Bee…

It is a truth universally acknowledged that as soon as you have time on your hands, the desire to do the things you’ve been longing to do evaporates. The current quarantining of nursing homes prevents me from visiting my husband but gains me a whole day per week. And my upcoming trip to the UK now seems uncertain, which opens up acres of space in my diary. Plenty of time to write. Plenty of time to finish the dog-eared piece of tapestry I’ve been working on since October, and the 982 page book with my bookmark stuck for months in page 442. It’s not that The House on the Embankment isn’t a terrific read. It’s just so heavy.

From our old home town of Venice, news of locked-down friends. Some are enjoying a bit of down-time, some are feeling the isolation. We may have to organise an air-drop of clean socks for the friend who went to work ten days ago and then found he couldn’t get home. He’s remarkably chipper. Perhaps because he’s imposed a daily routine on himself, perhaps because he has the compensation of a well-stocked cellar and unbeatable rooftop views over a now deserted city. Most touching of all, the friend who lives without television, radio and Internet and only answers his phone when he feels like it. He knew nothing of the lockdown until he ventured into the street last night and the world seemed to have ended. Well, now he knows. But he has teabags and plenty of books so he’s not downhearted.

I too have teabags. Also wine, clean socks, books and extra time to do whatever I want. Regrettably, what I most want to do this afternoon, is watch movies and eat chocolate. A far, far cry from my upbringing which instructed me always to improve each shining hour.

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The Green Shoots of Spring

I’ve probably said this before  –  I’ve probably said most things before  –  but there is truly nothing so heartening for a writer as a message from a happy reader, and this week I’ve received several. Also a couple of 5 star reviews for Dr Dan, Married Man? on Amazon, which means that my fans are speedy and efficient as well as loyal. Thank you, very much.

Writing a book is a solitary marathon and, in this case, was undertaken mainly through the glum days of autumn and winter. The decision to publish in March turns out to have been dead right. The news that people have bought, and in some cases read and enjoyed my latest is this writer’s equivalent of spotting the first green shoots of spring.

These are strange times. To cancel travel plans or wait and see? To avoid crowds or take my chances? In my 70s and with less than perfect lungs, I suppose I’m already in the grey zone of susceptibility. But, as my career choice shows, I’ve never been risk-averse. I’m inclined to keep calm and carry on. One definite impact the viral epidemic will have on me in the coming weeks is that I won’t be able to visit my husband. Care homes in Dublin have sensibly pulled up the drawbridge and the only visits permitted will be for death-bed vigils.

So, with a bit of time on my hands, I suppose I might as well get cracking with Book 3. Not fiddling while Rome burns, but scribbling while coronavirus weasels its way across the world.

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Dr Dan is Back

Created with GIMP

Another finishing line crossed. Here it is.

If you buy it, Kindle or paperback, thank you. If you enjoy it, please leave a review or just a comment on Amazon. It makes a difference.

Today’s job is to send the Trevor Buxton exclusive to my mailing list subscribers. Tomorrow, I’d better get cracking on Book 3.

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On Your Marks

Well hip hooray, nothing but good news today. Dr Dan, Married Man? will be available to order from Amazon by March 1st and I very much hope you enjoy it because I’m already planning Book 3. You may also notice that Dr Dan’s Casebook is wearing new plumage, thanks to a fan/reader/designer who took pity on me and created the kind of look I’d always wanted and which, with small changes of colour palette and detail, will take Dr Dan through his entire series, however long that may be. I’m starting to think ‘boxed set.’ But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My proposal for a monthly Interview with a Character for my mailing list subscribers has met both with approval and suggestions. Wallis Simpson seems to be a popular choice, can’t think why, oh, wait, what…. can it be you’re seeing parallels with recent shenanigans in the House of Windsor? Yes, it would certainly be interesting to try and channel Wally on Megxit. I’ll see what I can do. In the meanwhile, I’ve managed to secure an interview with Dr Trevor Buxton. Trevor will be answering (or evading) my questions this weekend.

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Coupla Questions

One answered, and a couple asked.

First, since I mentioned my mailing list, several readers have asked me how they join it. Far be it from me, techno bozo par excellence, to say, ‘Er, how about clicking on Sign Up?’  Here is the link.

Now, you might ask, why bother? It would be a good question because I’ve so rarely used my list to contact readers. Though my webmaster got very excited and said, ‘You gotta have a mailing list’, I’ve been wary of using it. This is because so many authors only use their mailing list when they have a new book to flog and it gets tiresome, like the ‘friend’ you only hear from when she wants a favour. So I’ve been thinking (it happens) about ways I might find to delight and entertain those of you who loyally signed up. Or at least not to annoy you.

My idea is to start sending a news-lettery kind of email, once a month max, in which I interview a character from one of my books. My questions for you are a) would you welcome or curse such a monthly arrival in your mail box? And b) if you like the idea, who would you like me to interview? Suggestions, please. And, by the way, it doesn’t have to be a major protagonist. I’m willing to talk to B-listers.

To get you started, my son would like to hear more from Aunt Fish in The Unfortunates.

That’s your homework. I’m now shutting up shop for a week. Dr Dan, Married Man? is almost ready for the printers. I just need one final, final, obsessive-compulsive check of a proof copy, then off we go.

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The Loneliness of the Long Distance Scribbler

One of my daughters just informed me that it’s Takeaway Thursday in her office. I don’t know quite how TT is organised. Only that she’d ordered something with halloumi.

You see, that’s the thing about being a self-employed writer. No office parties, no box of donuts when it’s someone’s birthday, no gossip around the water cooler or Takeaway Thursday halloumi wraps. On the plus side, neither do we have to endure committee meetings, mandatory diversity training or annual performance reviews, unless you count getting an email from your agent that begins, I’m really sorry to report…

Many years ago a few of us lone scribblers thought we’d try to remedy some of the isolation of being self-employed. We fixed a date to meet up for a pre-Christmas lunch. But came the day, none of us could make it. We were all working to tight deadlines. Nowadays I try to celebrate the putting to bed of a new book, when the proofs have been checked and rechecked and there’s nothing more I can do. It’s a moment that feels far more significant to me than publication day. Tomorrow I’ll get my hands on a proof copy of Dr Dan, Married Man? That’s when I’ll know if I’m on target to publish on March 1st. And that’s when I’ll know if it’s time to pop a cork.

If the news is good, I’ll do a cover-reveal to everyone on my mailing list. If you’re not on the list, well heavens to Betsy, what’s keeping you?

I gained a lovely verb this week: to wuffle. It’s the noise a mother pig makes to tell her piglets that dinner is served, but please, no jostling, treading on your siblings or nipping the milk bar. It could probably be used for other animal groups, although I’m prepared to be corrected on that point.

When you think about it, there are some wonderful words lying idle or neglected. Gorgonize is a verb I’ve never heard used, though my children tell me it was my tendency to gorgonize that made them so well-behaved. Grumpish is a word worth rescuing too. A shade different from grumpy, perhaps? And then there’s sennight, a word I’m itching to inflict on my American in-laws, who already have trouble with fortnight. When I use that f word they look at me as though I just stepped from the pages of a Jane Austen novel.

Do I need to get out more? Rhetorical question.

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