Archive for January, 2011
Some time ago, a chap called Dr Cliff Arnall calculated the third Monday in January to be the unhappiest day of the year. He based it on the fact that this was when the weather was foul, the credit card bills for Christmas had started to come in and you had realised that you weren’t going to keep your New Year Resolutions. Plus the euphoria of Christmas had worn off. Oh, and Monday’s always grim, anyway, because you have to go back to work after your fabulous weekend, don’t you? Newspapers love the story; there’s a nicely balanced piece about it in Wikipedia. (Happy 10th Birthday, Wikipedia, by the way.)
Well, of course, I don’t know what is going to happen today. It could be a killer. But, as of 08.00 hours, blue I’m not.
Braced for a household marathon, yes. Squaring up to filing all the stuff that has currently turned the study floor into a compost heap, certainly. (Hope there’s nothing alive in there.) Blue? No.
Because I cancelled Christmas, nuked New Year, banished my birthday and wrote up a storm instead, inspired by yet another reason to be cheerful, the royal engagement. Today I wish the world well, in every part.
For Random House, bless their pointy little heads, have sent me a copy of the cover of MY NEW BOOK. Calloo callay, my cup runneth over. Here it is.
So if you’re feeling blue Mondayish, remember nice things do happen: nice young couples get engaged and loopy authors finish a book. And spring is coming.
When I last blogged, it was the jewelled end of autumn. I was talking about shadow figures who beckon the writer down elven paths. I was quite certain that my next book would come from following one of those paths.
Sometimes the imagination wanders. Sometimes it gets sandbagged from behind.
Here I am two months later, with a completely new book imagined, written, sold and edited. It went to copy-editing this week. It even has a cover.
When I last blogged, it wasn’t even on my list of about 30 (32 actually, I’ve just filed them and I counted) ideas that I can’t bear to leave alone and keep coming back to.
So what started it off? Elven path? Macchiavelli in the mist?
Reuters and allied trades. Plus Publishers’ Prodding. (God bless the Publisher.)
So, here I am, blinking in the light, considering New Year’s resolutions and how did the pile of ironing get so big?