Authors Electric

                                                         When the Drugs Don't Work                                                                                                                                                                            The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Katsushika Hokusai                  I have always suffered from high levels of anxiety and sleeplessness, so when offered a change of medication I welcomed the chance to try something new. Now that I had completely retired from work, I felt that I could afford to take a chance and so began the new prescription. The side effects were clearly displayed on the accompanying leaflet, and they would pass, I thought.   Except that they didn’t. Within three days of starting the new medication my anxiety had quadrupled. Likewise, the sleeplessness; I had no appetite and all my bodily systems seemed to be rebelling against me.   Most concerning though were the chest pains that I began to suffer from. I went to

It so happens that May is a singularly appropriate month for the following grammar grumble. Call me a pedant - sorry, madam, no pedant available just now but more will be arriving shortly ( cue howls of joyous mirth ) - but Things Have Got to a Pretty Pass. No, really.  Winston Churchill: a ban on prepositions ending sentences was a practice up with which he would not put. It’s not about split infinitives. Nor about prepositions not being allowed at the ends of sentences (up with which Winston Churchill famously refused to put). Nothing can be done with ‘she spoke to my friend and I’, I’m afraid, except to stand doggedly by me and try not to wince when others don’t. Thing is, all these infelicities (though the preposition rule is not an infelicity, Churchill was right there) don’t muddle meanings. You know exactly what people are saying, even if the grammar isn’t perfect.  No. What flummoxed me a few days ago was this sub-heading in The Times , in a story about the Factor 8 blood sca

What did I do in March? I was smitten, hip and eye.   The Hip I'd had severe arthritis in my left hip for two or three years. I used to go to the gym and I loved walking in the countryside, but the pain was so bad, I became pretty much house-bound. My partner and friends nagged me to ask for a referral to a consultant, and after the usual delay (thank you so much, Tories),  I finally saw a Trauma and Orthopaedic consultant  in December '23.  He  glanced at my x-ray and said simply, "That hip joint is utterly destroyed. The only possible treatment here is a total hip replacement."   I was placed on the waiting list.  Friends and family immediately ganged up on me again. My younger brother and sis-in-law work within the NHS and know its little ways. My Scots partner has always been one for striding to the front and insisting (politely but very firmly, in that brogue which the English often seem to find scary) on being heard. Then there were the members of Flatcap (who k

This winter we've had one storm after another, each wilder than the last, and often combined with heavy rain (the Hollywood type where they throw buckets at windows so you can really see it on screen). But spring has arrived in Devon this week with trees everywhere bursting into pink and white blossoms in preparation for a summer of fruit. Blossom can be seen in its full glory at  National Trust properties  around the country, with several events planned to show the flowers at their best (see link for details). Even a walk through your local town might treat you to a show - or, on a windy day, maybe a shower? - of delicate petals from the trees in urban parks and gardens. Cherry blossom, in particular, is beautiful at this time of year, and is celebrated across Japan as Hanami  or "flower-viewing" - a long tradition dating back to the first century, when the emperor and his court would party under the flowering trees and write poetry as an aristocratic pastime. Hanami - M

Image Credit:  Images created in Book Brush using Pixabay photos. I love author interviews whether I conduct them (for an online magazine) or if I’m reading or listening to them. I always learn something of interest. I  find how writers go about producing their work: an endlessly fascinating topic as we all approach writing in different ways. I’m not averse to picking up good tips either! What is always encouraging is in finding out other writers also go through the rejection business. It is good to know you’re not alone on this. When I conduct interviews, I want to find out what has led to the book which is being launched or how the author is making progress since I last spoke to them.  I also like to ask for someone’s three top marketing tips because there is so much here, I don’t think any one writer can (a) know them all and (b) there is often common ground as to what works best for more than one author I’ve talked to. I see that as being good ground to follow myself!  Being on the

 Every so often you come across a book where what people are wearing is described in great detail. After a while it becomes annoying as you want to get on with the story, not the author’s attempt at visually fixing a character in your head with irrelevant detail. Their mannerisms, disabilities and speech patterns may be far more effective. So if you’re going to describe someone’s clothing, it must be important. My first example is from my children’s book The Divide , set in alternative world, where the different sorts of human-like mythical beings are distinguished by the colour of their clothing. "Tansy had never been to Tiratattle before, and Ramson was pretending to be more familiar with it than one school visit could possibly have made him. He refused point-blank to ask directions, and denied outright that they’d been past the chalice stall three times. The shops were full of candles and incense burners, their designs quite unlike anything Tansy had ever seen in Geddon. There