Today, we ChocLiteers are celebrating Choc Lit’s sixth birthday!
Choc Lit publish books ‘with romance at the heart’, so six is a very special number, as not only does it represent the Lover card in Tarot, but six is the symbol of Venus, the goddess of love.
When my children turned six it meant lots of little people running through our house, paper cups daringly filled to the rim with lemonade, tiny triangular sandwiches the adults ended up eating, and a zillion orange fingerprints on the woodwork, for which the eating of Wotsits was blamed.
I see no reason why partying in this way should cease …
So, put your Wotsit on the table, raise your glass of lemonade, and join me in wishing Choc Lit a very happy sixth birthday. And here’s to another wonderful six years of love and romance.
Who’s for a game of Twister?
Be sure to follow the Choc Lit blog, Facebook page and Twitter feed (#ChocLitparty) for birthday treats.
Over the last sixteen months, I’ve missed being able to pop next door and tell you all my news, so as today is special, I thought I’d fill you in on what’s happened since last July 22.
Despite the beautiful playing, the Yamaha remains unsold
Well, yesterday I spliced the top of my toe on a tent peg at Yeovil Car Boot. I know; you’re raising your brow and rolling your eyes, thinking, typical, but I can see the smile trying to break out. We sold some of your pictures – the beautiful Egyptian papyrus paintings. I liked the man who bought them. He knew his stuff and he appreciated the skill and time that went into the art. Whilst he was chatting with us, he was planning where in his flat he was going to hang them. He had seven ear-rings in one ear. He told me it didn’t hurt.
Ringo
Garry’s taken some of your things we didn’t sell to PAWS. I know you’ll be happy with that. You love your cats. We have three now – Daisy, Rascal and Sheldon (named after a character in The Big Bang Theory). I hope Ringo found his way to you.
I’ve been to Italy. We’d planned to go together, hadn’t we? To visit The Lakes. Have you been yet? I went to Umbria on a writing course. Sue Moorcroft, a name you know well, was the tutor, and Celia J Anderson, one of my wonderful Romaniac friends, who’s written Sweet Proposal, came too. The hosts at Arte Umbria are lovely. We were so well looked after, and the people I met there were warm, fascinating and funny – many laughs were had. I came home with a way forward with Follow Me, the book I started writing before you left, and a tan. Can you believe it? My usual ‘pale and interesting’ look has gone on vacation.
Laura, Sue & Celia at Arte Umbria July 2013
Sheffield was fantastic. That’s where the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s conference was held. It was a five hour drive, but I had my favourite music on, and the sun was shining. It was a weekend of learning and more laughing. I gave my first ever live interview. I couldn’t believe it. Now you’re really smiling. I know. Who’d have thought? The very lovely and very generous Miranda Dickinson invited me onto her vlog (video log, Mum), for a chat about my books. Yes. I did say books, in the plural. I’ll tell you about that later.
In March, the children, Garry, and I went to Florida for our first ever family holiday. Mum, it was fantastic. I’d like to live in Disneyworld – Hollywood Studios, in particular. The children loved it. We had a villa with a pool, a hire car and three weeks to visit the Disney parks, Universal Studios and NASA. I took over four hundred photos. Your grandson trained as a padawan, a young Jedi, your granddaughter tried every rollercoaster going, which was a huge breakthrough for the young lady who cringed just watching adverts about them, Garry enjoyed the driving and got us everywhere we needed to be, and I sung in The American Idol Experience and got through to the live show!
We returned home mid-April. I can’t believe it was three months ago.
When I attended the RNA Summer Party in May, and friends asked how the trip went, I realised, in the midst of conversation, it had been a life-changing holiday. I can’t put my finger on why, but I am now able to look forward more than back, and those occasions when I do peer over my shoulder, I’m able to raise a smile, not a tear.
Mostly.
Celia, Vanessa, Jan & Laura. 4/9 Romaniacs at Conference
The children are doing well. They are both high achievers and Garry and I are very proud of them. They talk about you often, and whenever we hear ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’, we look at one another and say, ‘Gran’s here.’
I’m growing my hair a little longer, and Garry’s keeping his shorter. It’s a wise decision. His IT business is going from strength-to-strength. That’s nothing to do with keeping his hair short. He’s working hard.
And I just want to mention Bro. He’s an excellent big brother.
Christmas was different without you. Quiet. Not that you were the noisy one. We missed you. My birthday was difficult, but Mother’s Day was okay. I thought I’d struggle, but Garry and the children made sure I had a good day.
Right then. Books. Well, I’ve been saving this bit of news until last. You could tell there was something, couldn’t you? You know me so well. That draft you read – Truth or Dare? – it’s going to be published, and do you know by whom? Choc Lit. Yes. Choc Lit. I know. Another name with which you are so familiar. I hope to dedicate the book to you. You’ll be in a novel, Mum. I’m busy finishing book two at the moment, ready to submit to the Taster Panel. Let’s hope they ask for seconds.
I’m so pleased we had our time together. I’m so glad I was able to share with you the pleasure my family, friends and writing bring me. I think about you every day, and often chat to you, but that’s okay, because I’m a writer and we do stuff like that all the time. I hope you’ve been having not just a good time, but a great one, Mum. I stayed up last night and watched the clock turn over to midnight. I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. It was raining, but I knew by the time I woke, the sun would be shining. I remember you saying it is always sunny on your birthday. As usual, you’re right; it’s beautiful here.
Well, I have to go now, I’ve books to write and whites to wash. I’ll raise a glass of Ribena in your honour, Mum.
