Laura E. James

I Am What I Am.

11/8/2011 8:33:30 PM

Warning: My post contains black humour. If mortality is an unnerving concept, this might not be for you. I am posting one of my short stories in honour of National Short Story Week. www.nationalshortstoryweek.org.uk
Welcome to my dark side.

I Am What I Am.

Me? I’m the life and soul of the party. I dread the day when I can no longer wear my six inch heels or my spray-on black and crystal-encrusted Jane Norman.

It’s not actually spray-on – that’s just what my daughters call it. Occasionally I wonder if they feel embarrassed by me. If they do, they never say.

I sing in a jazz band every Friday and Saturday night – have done for years, even as far back as when we were allowed to smoke on stage. Con Clubs, British Legion – I even gigged at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire last year. My tribute to Shirley Bassey went down a storm.

I love music. I’ve already chosen the songs to be played at my cremation. Rod Stewart has always been one of my favourites, but my husband of twenty three years doesn’t think Hot Legs is an appropriate choice, and he said no to Take That. Maybe Relight My Fire is expecting too much from the congregation. He completely lost it when I mentioned Burn by Nine Inch Nails. I was surprised when my youngest suggested it, but it’s good to see she has my optimistic sense of humour and not her father’s ever present pessimism.

Well, it’s said that opposites attract.

I’ve chosen my burial outfit too. Having failed to find anything respectable in my overstocked dressing room, I went shopping with my girls. It took some negotiation, but we settled on a, what I would call Christmas purple, evening gown, with full length sleeves that flare at the cuffs. I’m tempted to wear it at the next show, but I wouldn’t be seen dead in the same dress twice. I just pray the girls will guide my husband away from his usual suggestion of ‘wear something comfortable for once’. Dear God, don’t let him put me in that M&S winceyette dressing gown. Perhaps I could leave the label sticking out so he could see the ‘Keep away from flames’ warning.

We’ve had some laughs over the choice of coffin. I asked my son-in-law if he could build me one – I know how much he loves to use the power tools we bought him for his birthday. I’m not very big – four bits of ply and a few nails should do it – nothing he couldn’t get from B&Q, and I’ve already got some handles – I took them off our old dresser before it was consigned to the tip.

I wonder if there are any parts of me that could be reused.

What was that? Mrs Jones? Yes, that’s me.

I guess I’ll find out now.

It’s been lovely passing away the time with you. For what it’s worth, I think ladies with bald heads are very sexy and you have so many wonderful hats to choose from now. Who knew you could buy a Philip Treacy imitation at Wednesday’s market?

Best go – the oncologist is waiting for me.

Wish me luck.

 Comments:

 Peter:

11/9/2011 4:07:58 PM

Your DARK side.

Very funny, just my sort of humour, well put together and despite the topic, full of optimism and hope!

Hearts in Herts.

10/26/2011 8:48:53 PM

 Having spent a great evening with my brother, I returned to Hunton Park on Saturday morning, ready for whatever the day was about to throw at me.

Saturday was a day of firsts.
First, I went to the For Her Eyes Only panel, to discuss reading and writing of erotic romance and erotica. There is a growing market for erotica, if you’ll excuse the pun, and there were a few people considering turning their hand to it.

I then had a group meeting with Choc Lit’s editor, Lyn Vernham. I think we should all look out for Chock Lit – I believe they are going to grow and grow.
They have a rigorous screening process, but this ensures quality books only are published.

Before lunch, I went along to the panel entitled From Chick Lit to Hen Lit. Hen Lit is a term now used for stories that have an older heroine. That works for me.
Lunch was followed by a rather spectacular Authors Fashion Show, a panel entitled Not What Your Mother Might Expect, discussing gay romance and a presentation by Mills and Boon.

The keynote interview was with Carole Matthews. This was a wonderfully warm interview with a lovely and humorous lady and personally, one of the draws of the Festival. Carole’s new book, Wrapped Up In You was shortlisted for the Reader Awards.

The next half hour was spent in the presence of a bare-topped Loveswept hero handing out cupcakes. Things we romantic novelists and writers have to endure.
With cupcake in hand, my final event of the day was an informal chat with literary agent, Jane Judd.

After a wash and brush up, the evening’s Have a Heart Ball commenced, raising money for CHF and GUCH, two charities who support children and teenagers with congenital heart disease. The Reader Award and New Talent Awards were announced and I would like to say well done to all those short-listed and congratulations to Sue Moorcroft, Jean Fullerton and Henri Gyland for winning their categories.

The evening was made complete by the genuinely kind and beautiful people I had the pleasure and luck of meeting.

Was it purely a coincidence the Festival of Romance took place in Herts?

A Fine Romance.

10/25/2011 7:15:42 PM

What an incredible weekend. I have never experienced anything like it.
This weekend was The Festival of Romance, held at HuntonPark, Watford, a beautiful setting with gold and burgundy trees, velvet lawns and a large marquee.

The event launched on the Thursday evening at Watford Central Library with A Celebration of Romantic Fiction. This was hosted by Kate Allan, the event organiser, Annie Burrows, Isabelle Goddard, Lynne Connolly and Juliet Archer. Unfortunately I was unable to attend this part of the event, but my heart was there. I spent many of my youthful hours in one or other of Watford’s libraries.

I arrived very early on the Friday morning, having left home at 5:00, to glorious sunshine and complimentary coffee, having driven through the dark, singing to Abba (I outed myself at the Festival). On route, I picked up Catherine Miller, a fellow member of the Romantic Novelists Association, New Writer’s Scheme, who was excellent company.
After failing to work out how to use the coffee machine, we were rescued by a friendly member of staff, and then relaxed in large, comfy chairs and sofas, awaiting the arrival of other delegates.Celia Anderson was the first to say hello, with whom I had chatted through the Festival of Romance Online site. We also met Sarah Tranter and Sue Fortin. We were ready to rumble.

The first session I attended was So You Want To Write Short Stories For Women’s Magazines, with Helen Hunt, an extremely interesting and informative talk which has given me food for thought. This was not an area for which I had considered writing, but having listened to Helen, I can see that it would be a good way to increase one’s portfolio as well as adding to one’s earnings. It is a difficult market to enter, however. Never say never.

The next session was entitled Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves, a panel chaired by self-published Mandy Baggot, (Strings Attached), with Pamela Strange and Talli Roland, whose latest book, The Hating Game, was shortlisted for the Festival Reader Awards, and who has taken the brave decision to leave her current publisher to self-publish.
Self-publishing is now a very credible way to get a book out – it is distinctly different to vanity publishing, and the advent of e-publishing is making it a viable option.

I then attended Writing Romance with Sue Moorcroft. Sue is the NWS agony aunt and, like many of the delegates attending the Festival, a goldmine of information. This was a great workshop and discussed types of hereos and heroines – making sure the right types work well, internal and external conflict – the very problems that stop the main characters from getting together, and the ways to resolve this conflict. Veronique Moorcroft assisted.

Just as I was getting weak and wobbly with hunger, the final session before lunch began – Aspiring Authors Clinic: How To Get Published. Like the previous workshop, I would not have missed this for the world.
The panel was chaired by Cara Cooper and consisted of Xcite Books, Choc Lit and AUK. The panellists gave a very thorough explanation of what publishers expect and require from writers and authors. I made plenty of notes during this session.

With my hunger at an embarrassing level, lunch was served.

The afternoon passed just as swiftly as the morning, starting with a charity quiz where teams of four fought for first palce. Sadly, our team of three did not win, but the answers we failed at all contained numbers, and as we said at the time, we are writers, not mathematicians. (It is beside the point the numbers were dates or titles of romantic films; we do not do maths.)

I listened with great interest to the Research Club, with expert authors sharing their knowledge on subjects ranging from medical romance to the Argentine tango. In this panel were: Jan Jones, Roger Sanderson, Pamela Strange, Hywela Lyn, Phillipa Ashley, Nell Dixon and Cara Cooper.

The day ended with a chocolate making demonstration from Choc Chick, whilst Sue Moorcroft and Christina Courtenay read extracts from their latest novels, Love and Freedom and Highland Storms (respectively), published by Choc Lit. Whilst listening to the readings, we were treated to chocolate treats from Choc Chick, They were little morsels of Christmas, in my opinion.

The day finished with tea and coffee and I left for the evening.
My head was buzzing with ideas, my voice was fading with all the chatting and I was looking forward to the next day.

 Comments:

 Sarah Tranter:

10/25/2011 10:15:23 PM

Festival of Romance.

It was good wasn’t it? Fab to meet you – did your hubbie make it into school to do the necessary?

You Know Who You Are.

10/14/2011 12:10:26 AM

Last week I thought the more I learned, the less I knew. This was based on me thinking I had grasped the concept of delivering a good book, only to discover I was nowhere close.

Now, through the wonderful patience and advice of expert friends, new friends and acquaintances, blogs and websites, I am finding my way through the minefield.

The time for me to take a leap of faith is drawing near and thank goodness I have an amazing amount of support for what I am trying to achieve. Without it, I would be standing on that muddy field alone, eyes screwed tightly shut, fingers crossed (metaphorically speaking, as I can’t actually cross them anymore), with my foot hovering unsteadily over unknown and dangerous ground.

As it is, with my family and friends cheering me on and others fearlessly walking beside me, guiding and prompting, I am not afraid to take those necessary steps.

Thank you to those showing me the way and thank you to the noisy rabble on the other side of the field for being there in all weathers.

Just Keep Swimming.

10/8/2011 5:04:20 PM

I am having a sofa/hot chocolate moment. In fact, I have had a sofa/hot chocolate moment all week.

This time last week, I was in a tee-shirt and shorts, sitting on the beach, thinking nothing of the fact many people were splashing about in the sea. What a difference seven days can make. I have just switched on the heating.

I am not so keen on this weather – it turns my nails blue and leaves me with a desire for syrup sponge puddings (yes, in the plural) and cable-knit woolies, which is unfortunate, since I cannot tolerate wool. It also leaves me with less disposable energy, the bulk being used for keeping warm. The net result is a loss of productivity, hence the delay in getting my blog out, and for that I apologise.

This will be an interesting season for me; I am more determined than ever to become a published author but am spending my first winter on reduced medication for Rheumatoid Arthritis. One of the symptoms of RA is fatigue and what with fighting the cold weather, I had it in bucket loads this week. The term I used on Twitter was ‘swimming through treacle’. Back to the sponge puddings, then.

I hadn’t realised how much energy is required for writing, after all, I simply sit at my desk or on a comfy sofa and push a pen or tap some buttons. The sitting part I can do and did exceptionally well Monday through to Friday; it was the actual writing with which I struggled. My tired mind could not string two sentences together.

This was noticeable at Off The Cuff, the writing group I attend, when both my submissions for the morning were, quite frankly, a load of tosh. I’m not suggesting I produce masterpieces on a regular basis, if at all, but this week, my spark had definitely gone out.

How do writers overcome this?

My solution was to go to bed and sleep, or slump on the sofa and watch programmes I wouldn’t normally watch – I particularly liked one on Beeb 2 about the history of rooms – it was fascinating. These non-activities certainly restored some energy, but inspiration was still lacking. It wasn’t until yesterday evening, when I was chatting with my long-suffering friends, that I began to feel able to put pen to paper.

My friends shared their honeymoon stories and their chocolate – true friends indeed – and made me laugh so much, I became energised and inspired. We have the beginnings of a romantic comedy. I’m not sure how that’s going to pan out, as I have never tried my hand at romcom, but humour can get us through the toughest times.

Some new Twitter friends also lifted my spirits this week by reminding me that if something made me happy, then it was worth the effort. And writing makes me happy.

So, this is what I have learned; a kind word, love and laughter and chocolate will help me overcome pretty much anything.

As will syrup sponge puddings.

Tweet, Tweet.

I have become a serial Tweeter. Don’t believe people when they say it is a time waster. Certainly, as a writer, it lends itself to what we call a displacement activity, but the wealth of information that can be passed in 140 characters or less is amazing.

Now that I am finally getting to grips with the ‘netiquette’, I’m hoping my new Twitter friends and acquaintances can see that I’m neither a crazy, obsessive stalker or that I take the kind ‘follows’ for granted. Every time I receive notification that someone new is following my tweets, I smile – how lovely it feels to know people are interested in what I have to say. It’s the same with my blog, and so you know, I do not take any one of you for granted. I appreciate every visit.

I am following some cracking Tweeters, who never fail to make me laugh and are very happy to engage in friendly banter. Others I follow are very generous with their time and expertise and point me in the ‘write’ direction or give me spot-onPhoenixadvice.

The amount of information that has been tweeted and retweeted this week has been phenomenal with regard to writing and publishing and Wednesday was undoubtedly the highlight of the week, when the Society of Authors held a tweetathon to bring to the nation’s attention, the plight of the short story.

An author from the Society tweeted the first line of what was to be a five line and therefore, short story, with Tweeters providing the next four lines. The best submission of each section was added to the story, ultimately producing a 670 character story.

It was fantastic fun and will be running for the next four Wednesdays. Take a look at #soatale and join in. Help increase the popularity of the short story.

This week, I was like a sponge, soaking up all the information I could, to the tag line; the world is my moisture. If you’ve not ventured into the world of Twitter, it is worth a look, but try not to let it distract you from, well, life.

I can be found as @Laura_E_James.

Comments:

newwriter:

9/18/2011 10:13:27 AM

Twitter.

You’re not wrong Laura it’s amazing what you can learn from few short lines. But as you say it can be addictive, 3am I got to bed the other night and that was just following links. I never tweeted a single word.

Mentally Pale.

9/8/2011 11:36:40 AM

I’m feeling pale today, like this colour.

It is the result of too many late nights and not enough inactivity of the brain.

I was up until the early hours editing Truth Or Dare?. When the words are flowing, I find it virtually impossible to tear myself away from the keyboard, but strangely, it’s Guilt and a disapproving look from Mrs Sensible, that get me to bed.

There is a clock on the bottom right hand of my monitor screen and when I’m writing, my eyes continually flick to it. They’re doing it now; 09:48. This morning, when I saw 02:20 on the PC clock, I felt guilty at not being in bed and thought I had best make my way up before I got told off. At my age, it is a ridiculous thought, but it is a response which was instilled in me as a youth and is now forever ingrained within. Sense kicked in too, as I accepted the idea my family has certain expectations of me; functioning as a human being, for one. And so it was, I exchanged the PC’s black corner clock for a fuzzy red one in the bedroom and by the time I got into bed and pulled the duvet up, the clock read a wobbly 02:40. But could I get to sleep? No. My brain was still running over the new scenes I had added and was working out a way to connect them to existing ones. It was chilly too. I contemplated switching on my electric blanket, but the on/off switch clunks loudly and I was trying to be quite, so that I didn’t get told off for sneaking up to bed late.

Eventually, I stopped thinking and stopped noticing the cold. I didn’t dream anything worth remembering. It would have been in sepia if I had.

When I woke, I felt pale.

I am wearing fuchsia pink today. I was hoping to fool myself in to feeling awake and vibrant, but it’s yet to work. Even the dark, warm sweetness of an autumnal hot chocolate has failed to colour my complexion; but according to one kind (and very tanned) lady at the school, I look happy and cheerful. I think that’s just my facial muscles taking the path of least resistance.

Early to bed tonight, then? Well, I say that now, but Writing is a very persuasive playmate who likes to stay up late.

 Comments:

Laura:

9/9/2011 12:39:52 AM

Mental Paleness.

Very poetic, Gail, and much appreciated. Thank you. xx

  Gail Reynolds:

9/8/2011 1:07:01 PM

Pale in colour.

Can I say, it is not how pale you feel or look on the outside its how bright the spark inside is?!

(from the tanned lady) xx

The 3 R’s.

8/27/2011 10:52:36 PM

Traditionally, the 3 R’s are for Reading, Writing and Arithmetic, but this week they have stood for reading, writing and resting.

I ordered three books from an online bookstore at the beginning of the week and they arrived midweek. The postman decided to rap twice very loudly on the door and if that wasn’t enough to wake the dead, he rang the doorbell. At the time, I was sitting silently, absorbed in editing Truth or Dare?. I nearly passed out. With my heart still booming, I got up from the sofa, tweaking a muscle in my back as I did so, reached the door and received my package. I smiled politely and quietly thanked the postman, eager to return to the sofa, to ease my back and open the cardboard parcel. Now, bear in mind that with my left hand still in a splint (and therefore rendered more or less useless), and the other weakened with rheumatoid arthritis, opening a package is not easy, but I was desperate to get in there as I knew it contained three new books. I could smell them.

After venting my frustration at my own inadequacies, I decided my best chance of opening the parcel was to use my teeth. You know that strange feeling you can get when someone scrapes their fingernails down the blackboard or when you accidentally touch the rough surface of a nail file or sandpaper? Well, tearing cardboard with one’s teeth produces the exact same feeling, not to mention the noise it creates as the ‘riiiippp’ resonates around one’s head. I wouldn’t recommend it as a preferred method of opening such packages. It really did set my teeth on edge.

Having got over the palpitations, the muscle strain, the cardboard induced headache and the strange swirly feeling in my stomach, I finally got my not so good hand on my new books. It had been worth the teeth edging.

I purchased: Erica James – Promises Promises, Jill Mansell – To The Moon and Back, and Carole Matthews – The Only Way Is Up.

Now, I am an established fan of both Erica James and Jill Mansell, but Carole Matthews is a first.

Rarely do I have the opportunity just to kick back and read for hours on end, but the children occupied themselves, the cats went off to play in the hedges and I was left to sit quietly, rest and read. I forwent the writing. In two days, I read Promises Promises. It was a lovely read, which had me smiling throughout – a classic Erica James novel. I finished it last night and went straight on to The Only Way Is Up and reached page 117, only putting it down because it was half past stupid o’clock.

Isn’t it lovely to discover an author you haven’t read before and then find you enjoy their work?

I would describe this book as having a direct style – I need to read more of Ms Matthews’ books to form an opinion of her writing style, but I liked the immediacy of this story. By page 26, the reader is right in the thick of it. The story is fast paced and full of action.

As I have said before, in a previous blog, the advice to writers is to a)write every day (I’m sure I read the other day to write even if it is a shopping list) and b)read, read, read – particularly the sort of books you would like to write.

I have learned three very different things from both of these books: The description and action of some of the characters in Promises Promises produced such believable and in some cases, detestable characters, I could feel my hackles rising whenever they appeared. In TOWIU, I have not yet found a character to detest (that may come later), but I have found the current characters to be extremely believable and I can picture their type. I have learned that the clues to their personalities are in how they dress, how they speak and how they treat and react to other characters. Now, that may seem obvious, but to me, it wasn’t. These two books helped create a lightbulb moment.

In terms of the structure of the stories, TOWIU has shown me that I need to get to the action quicker – my openings are too ponderous, and PP has shown me how to change viewpoints without disrupting the flow of the story; POV’s are something I have struggled horrendously with.

It is a given that I will enjoy and learn from Jill Mansell’s book.

I may regard novels differently now that I have written one, but first and foremost, I enjoy the read, I enjoy getting lost in the story and I enjoy the feeling of satisfaction at finishing it.

If you enjoy romance/romantic comedies and if you are looking for excellent examples of how to write, you will not go far wrong with these three ladies.

That’s me done for now.

See you next time.