Rosie The Cat

Rosie The Cat

Vet Biter

Dog Fighter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boy Walker

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fast Talker

Guilt Invoker

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paper Poker

Blanket Tester

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rat Arrester

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mother,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baby,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Killer, Queen.

 

RIP, R.T.C.

Why I hate the wind.

Chalk Lane, 3rd Jan 2012

Wind is the weather that frightens me most. I have cowered in a caravan while wind has rocked it like a demented mother.  I have stood paralysed while a tornado blackened the sky and ripped its dark path though one greenhouse after another. I have held my breath in the after calm,  shocked by the devastation, fearful of its return and grateful that things were not much, much worse.

Yesterday the sky blackened once more.

Beloved  knew it was coming. Winds had been forecast , and they were already high, but he’d also had a phone call from Father-in-Law, who lives a couple of hours away, warning us a line squall had passed over his place and was heading our way.

I was working on the end of year report when it hit. My computer switched off. The power was out. In a heartbeat the gusting wind outside changed to a tearing, rain lashed storm force 10. Fence panels and gas canisters blew past my office window. My first thought was for the children.

Safe at school. Solid, brick built, sturdy school.

But  where was Beloved? I threw my coat on and battled outside. The rain was tidal, lashing in horizontal waves, the wind threatened to tip me over. I struggled to keep hold of the farm office door but he was there, and safe.

Narrow escape for the greenhouse

‘I’m scared.’ I said.

‘I know.’ He said.

We clambered through the fallen trees that blocked the track and pushed through the rain to check  the greenhouse. Some of the guttering had been torn free but it hadn’t smashed into the glass.  I ran on, turned the corner expecting to see upturned caravans, the farm camp looked intact. All seemed Ok until we saw the tunnels on Horse Field. Plastic flapped like the wing of some huge, distressed bird. Metal was buckled and flattened. The wind billowed under remaining covers, sheering  rope and threatening more damage. Beloved ran to the rope store. As rain washed  our faces and wind tugged tearing rope burns into our hands,  we lashed down the plastic and saved at least some of the metal work.

Crushed metalwork

Blown out glass

The wind eased, the sky cleared.

We headed out to the road. Trees blocked it in both directions. So much devastation in just 30 seconds.

‘I’ll get the chainsaw.’ Said Beloved.

That's my man.

Power or no power, homework can always be done.

But you might have to share your desk space.

Crisis at Christmas

It’s Christmas and I have a gift for you! It might not feel like a gift but IT IS! It’s the gift of giving. Just a little bit.

Have you ever wondered how awful it would be to be homeless and lonely at Christmas? How much you admire those amazing people who give up their own Christmas Day to help out at homeless shelters? I know, me too! And here’s the perfect gift to help you feel less guilty about that:

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserProfilePage.action?userUrl=Redwoods1

My friend Lisa is actually doing it – giving up her Christmas to help others and raising money for Crisis at Christmas as she does so. Think how good you’ll feel knowing you’ve helped pay for someone cold and hungry to be warm and fed this Christmas and all you’ve got to do is offer five quid. Or maybe ten.  Go on – do it! Let’s nudge the total over a thousand and spread the Christmas Joy!

Happy Christmas to you all and thank you for reading and commenting – see you in the new year I hop!

Kathy xx

Surrogate Blog

 

I’ve been blogging elsewhere and wanted to share, so, if you feel so inclined, pop over to: http://notesfromtheslushpile.blogspot.com/2011/12/countdown-to-christmas-almost-there.html

( I so wanted that to rhyme).

There’s this as well:

http://notesfromtheslushpile.blogspot.com/2011/12/countdown-to-christmas-poets-lament.html?utm_source=BP_recent

(where I have been practising at poetry)

Yes, the Notes from the Slushpile gang basically kidnapped me. I briefly escaped to post this,

Happy Christmas All, 

See you in the New Year x

SCBWI -BI Conference 2011

I am dreaming story ideas. My head is buzzing. My fingers are twitching to type. The  SCBWI Winchester Conference has struck again.

Candy with the much deserved Crystal kite Award. Am sure my vote helped ;o)

This year was a little tricky for me. I had some issues to deal with at home that were made it a struggle to focus so I must apologise if  you were disturbed by the  curiously subdued,  irritating woman who kept disappearing out of the lecture theatre – I wasn’t having bladder problems my children were on the phone. In the end I went home for a bit so I missed the party on Saturday night and Candy Gourlay winning, not only the Crystal Kite Award  but also the Award for Outstanding Contribution to SCBWI so massive belated HOORAH for Candy x

Home dramas aside, the weekend was, as ever, immensely informative and inspiring. For those that couldn’t make it, here’s a flavour of that:

From Frank Cottrell Boyce:

Keep your eye on the detail, that’s where humour lies. Comedy comes from the dissonance between who kids see themselves as and who they actually are – think Just William – he sees himself as a good guy!

It's the little things that make people laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From Anthony Mcgowan: Writing guidelines can sometimes help you  unstick a plot – take a look at this:

Or if you can’t use a power point, this:

Freytag's Pyramid. Sort of.

Ask yourself four questions:

Who is your main character?

What are they trying to achieve?

Who’s trying to stop them?

What happen’s if they don’t achieve their goal?

If you can’t answer these questions maybe you haven’t yet got a fully formed story.

Try messing with the structure – different points of view, tense, chronology – shake things up and see if your story shakes up to.

Anthony’s workshop was CRAMMED with good stuff. I think he need’s to write a ‘How to’ Book – seek him out and tell him: http://anthonymcgowan.com/Hello.html

From Sara Grant who talked series fiction – again, two hours packed with stimulating ideas impossible to sum up here. Briefly helpful might be her word count guide for Working Partners:

Age Range	Word Count	Number Chapters	Things to consider	Examples
5-8	4-5000 words	6-8 even chapters	Simple characters, simple setting (they’ll be illustrated)	Naughtiest puppy, Rainbow Magic
7-9	10-15,000 words	10-12 even chapters	Again, simple characters, formulaic plots	Beast Quest, Dinosaur Cover
Tween	15-30,000 words	15-20 chapters	Characters more 3 d , more complex story lines
YA	40,000+	20+ chapters	As above

Sara suggested writing your pitch, or even your strap line, before you write your series story – it will give a good indication whether your idea is a strong one. Find your formula – what are you going to give a reader everytime?

I left Sara’s workshop with an idea how to improve my Dylan and Mouse books  and ideas for 2 more series- not including the amazing CSI Mars Alien Brain mystery we brainstormed while we were there.

From the Friday night critique group to the parting hugs on Sunday, I felt supported and educated and part of our SCBWI family. A pretty big one these days. If you write or ilustrate for children, you’ll belong too.

The End.

It's a bit muddy, everything is round here.

I am no longer behind with farm work. Dinners are getting cooked. The ironing basket is empty. I have been to the hairdressers for the first time in months.

My book is finished.

Hoorah. She says. Dejectedly.

It’s not that I’ve sent it off to Lovely Agent and am checking my inbox every five seconds for a verdict.  Well, alright, it is that, but mostly, after 2 years of feeling love and hate for this story, these characters, I miss them.

I feel like some friends have gone away. Annoying friends who woke me up in the night, but friends, none the less.

I know what the cure is supposed to be.

New friends. Start a new project. I have two on the brew but can’t quite decide which new friends I want to hang out with for the next year or so.

It’s not helping much.

Am I a freak?

Do others feel like this?

What are your cures?

Does it stop when other people are reading about your characters and breathing new life in them?

I feel a bit like Pooh with his empty honey pot.

Harumph.

Why Blog?

inspiredbythis.com

There’s much talk amongst publishing pals about  ’Media Platforms.’

For published authors, I guess this means a point at which your readers can contact you, find out more about you and where you can advertise yourself and your next book. For aspiring writers,  it’s not so clear.

Do we all need a ‘Media Platform?’ Should we all Tweet and Blog and Bookface in this already overcrowded forum?

What do I know?

I know there are some great writing blogs out there and I like to read them – I’ve just updated my links to some of them but I’d highly recommend Notes From the Slushpile – Candy Gourlay’s blog that, since her release from the slushpile,  has morphed into a shared platform for other authors and slushpilees.

I know that prospective editors and agents do Google potential writers – so if you are ‘building a platform’ you best treat it seriously.

I know that we are advised to know the purpose of a our blog and who our audience is.

And there I come unstuck.

Who is my audience? Why do I blog?

I’ve thought about it a lot, and the simple answer is, I enjoy it.  In the old days of Snail Mail, I used to love writing letters to friends and family – I’d stick things in them: articles from magazines, buttons, sweets, photographs, feathers –  silly things I’d picked up around the house – annoyingly – glitter.

My blog is just the same. It’s not a Media Platform at all – I’m doing it all wrong. I’m not profile building. I’m writing an open letter to family and friends stuffed with things that interest me.

If I could find a way to add sweets and glitter, I would )

How not to apply for a job. Or is it?

I am so nearly finished writing my new book I’ve no time to blog, I’ve just got to get on with it.  In the mean time, I thought I’d share this with you.

It’s a genuine job application, sent to us a couple of years ago. I did wonder if it was a wind up but it came with a perfectly respectable CV…

hi kathy i am looking for a job working out doors well some times out doors any way so i thought that this job was relevent to me. also it is a farm that you have so i would love to work there because i really love animals (cute ones only). but if you gave me just the easy jobs and let me pet all of the baby cows and sheep i would be very good at that because i have 2 hamsters and they love me peting them also when you said we will be out in all weather does that mean if it was raining because i think i would be best in the barn stroking the cows or bottle feeding the lambs but the only down fall i have is that i am scared of pigs so if you had pigs could you please let me know so that i could cancel my plans to come and work on your farm thanks ****** x p.s could i bring popet and pickle my 2 hamsters because i would miss them to much.

I replied:

Well you made me smile but I don’t think you’re cut out for farm work,

kathy

And received this:

ok thank you so much hope you find the right person.
p.s if you ever do need a person to feed the lamb and chicks and baby moo’s you no were i am. *****,  popet and pickle xxx

I sometimes wonder if we should have given her a job.

Someone who signs a job application with kisses and wants to take their hamsters to work? Well, that’s got to make you smile a bit everyday hasn’t it?

First day at school

My boy is off to big school, my girl has one year left…I remember the day she started, I can hardly believe it was so long ago. To all  of you with little ones  starting school, I remember how it feels:

Gone

baby toddler darling child

always in my heart

want you near me by my side

apart apart apart

love you need you miss your smiles

dreaded terms start

watch the hands crawl round the dial

my heart my heart my  heart

It goes so quickly, enjoy every minute.

Must Try Harder.

I remember myself as being a perfect gift of a pupil. Clearly not.

Things weren’t much better the following year, though at least Mr Higgins had got my name right.

I’m puzzled how any kind of standard could be considered ‘high’ that was also ‘tatty’ and full of ‘frequent errors’.

Not quite the perfect pupil of my rememberings then. Still, Mr.Higgins,  I think you should shoulder a bit of the blame. Philip Ardagh taught me how to use an apostrophe with nothing more than Facebook  and threats to have a heart attack if I added one more grocer’s apostrophe to a status update.  And it only took about 12 months. My typign is still appallign thouhg. And judging by the great, gaping plot hole at the end of my current  Work-in-Progress, my ‘frequent errors’ need a bit of attention.