The drought edition
Anyone else suffering with the heat, or is it just me? Living in a new build in parched Cambridgeshire in August has got to be one of the greatest endurance events of our times.
It hadn’t occurred to me until now, but maybe this is why I’ve chosen to set my next book in rainy October…
Wins!
Lame alert: sharing my website and being cheered on by family and friends has been a big highlight over the last week. After roughly a decade of hiding from any sort of online presence, it does feel pretty exposing to be back out in the world, which is why it’s been so wonderful—wonderful! Thank you, Alison Espach’s The Wedding People for making that word lose any meaning—to hear such nice things. If you’re reading this, I’m probably talking about you.
And there’s got to be a round of applause for book #3’s progress too… Now at 17k words and counting. Time to book in my next coaching call with The Novelry, I think!
Rejections
An absolute cracker and, I’m pleased to say, a first for me: a rejection addressing me as Mark. Cheers, babe.
Learnings
This week, I read an excellent book called Submit, Publish, Repeat by Emily Harstone, downloadable for free from Authors Publish. Side note: they also have an excellent newsletter, so definitely sign up for that if you’re interested in writing tips.
I now have an actual strategic approach to submitting short stories to literary magazines and, yes, okay, this was in the same week as I also sent one to The New Yorker (no rejection yet, so there’s that) but you have to start somewhere, right?
Readings
Currently reading: Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar.
Just finished: Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Virgin Suicides. Personally, I’d give it a hard pass as a recommendation. Because of the topic of the story (five sisters each kill themselves over the course of a year), the way it’s written is understandably distant. Honestly not a huge amount happens, which does have the effect of making each suicide attempt extremely shocking, but it’s also hard to empathise with the sisters because so much of what we’re told about them is guesswork. It’s also infuriating because the collective narrator (a group of local boys who watched the sisters’ decline) doesn’t do anything to try to help them. They just watch. And of course there’s a lesson there, but it’s a pretty depressing one.
Musings
It’s impossible to be in your head thinking about a book and be present with a three-year-old. Instead, we’ve had some fun (and occasionally heat-induced stroppy) times mooching about outside this week, eating plumble because our plum tree is unrelenting in its production, and building LEGO in front of the fan.
Till next time!
Vicky
