So THAT\’s what I should have been doing all this time…

I did a poetry reading and gig at Waterstones in Truro tonight – it was a blast. Slightly a blast from the past as I was cavorting in my amazing purple corset, but everyone ate my chocolate truffles (damn fine, though I sez it myself), drank some wine kindly provided by Waterstones and then sat and listened to my poetry and discursions on…
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Actually I\’m not sure what. I do remember censoring the bit about when I was having my first baby and then explaining how to make your daughter\’s eighth birthday sleepover go really well for all the little girls in her class. It involves meticulous doses of Haribo sweeties and ice cream with chocolate sauce for breakfast, the recipe for which is in \”The Poetry Diet\” (published by Thingley Press).
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I love making people laugh and I love doing it even more when it\’s deliberate and part of selling books, rather than inadvertent because I\’ve said something idiotic again. I am, after all, the woman who caused the whole of the village shop to fall about laughing when I spotted an unexpected tenner in my purse and said loudly, \”Oh look, there\’s some money, better spend it quick before it all goes away!\”

BEE BRIEF

I finished it! Sitting in Costa coffee in the Truro Waterstones bookshop, crying my eyes out at the sad-but-happy ending of my new childrens\’ book \”One Bee\” and hoping nobody notices the lunatic in the corner dropping big teardrops and snot all over her paper. Why is writing so undignified?
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I get so excited as the book zooms towards the end, building up speed in the last ten thousand words until my writing is appalling and I leave out chunks of sentence. I retype it into my computer after a bit of time to let it settle, by which time I\’ve forgotten what I\’ve written for some of it and have to rewrite those bits.
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This system of handwriting the first draft isn\’t me being deliberately retro: I can write anywhere, on anything. It\’s just that doing the thing by hand works a kind of brief magic: you stick to the point much better because you\’re lazy and don\’t want to have to write anything that isn\’t essential. It\’s the perfect vaccination against word-processoriasis which causes books to swell up like the legs of somebody afflicted with elephantiasis. (By the way, don\’t click on the link unless you\’ve got a strong stomach.)
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For a truly dreadful example of the literary version of this, by the way, read J K Rowling\’s Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Or indeed the whole of George R R Martin\’s A Feast for Crows which had me petering to a halt after being totally consumed by all the previous Game of Thrones books.
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Mind you, the bee book – called \”One Bee\” – had a sort of natural limit on it, seeing that the main character is quite an old lady by the time she reaches the grand old age of 30 days.

Archie Brown\’s again

I\’ve got to praise these guys again, despite the risk that they might get packed out with customers so I won\’t be able to get a seat.
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Yesterday I took myself there again after another x-ray. I needed to recover from the idea of having an operation to screw a plate onto my broken ulna to make sure it heals properly.
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So I treated myself to a mushroom, leek and mizuna frittata which is like a Spanish omelette but made with chickpea flour, a large fresh salad and a pud of such gob-smacking wonderfulness that it qualified for the top foody adjective in my vocabulary.
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It was a crisp and squidgy meringue, sprinkled with hibiscus, covered with lemon curd, strawberies and double cream.
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The bill? Under a tenner. The word? Orgasmatronic