Panic yesterday evening, when I attempted to move things around on blog, and succeeded in moving them around so far that they disappeared. Not good, as my local paper has given this blog a plug, so new people are reading it. Hopefully. Luckily, a good techie friend talked me through things over the phone, and we sorted it. Another steep learning curve surmounted.
Beloved Husband, who is into all this blog/tweet/Facebook thing in the way that bricks are into dentistry, wonders why anyone would want to write a blog in the first place. And why anyone else would want to read it. I say I am creating a platform to launch the e-book. I am the 21st century female internet version of Isombard Kingdom Brunel, a metaphor that will probably get me arrested by the analogy squad for crimes against comparisons.
Designer Dave has returned, in all senses of the word, from his rugby jaunt. I have now sent him spec for cover. In return, he has enlightened me on the drinking habits of his team mates: how much they drank; when, and where they drank, what they drank etc. The royal 'they', methinks. One of my Year 11 students informs me that I can tweet via the computer. I never knew that. She is going to show me how to do this next week, after her final GCSE lesson. No point going down the humiliation route of admitting that a 16 year old student knows more than me: I will embrace the stupidity and be grateful.
To the Summer meeting of the Romantic Novelists' Association with Juliet Archer this afternoon. Elizabeth Chadwick (historical writer) speaking. RNA members are not at all what you imagine - i.e. small meek spinsters in cardies and sensible shoes. They are a feisty, fun group. And supportive. Childrens' writers, en masse, are far more wary of each other - it is a much smaller pool, and they are always checking out each other's success. I like the RNA crowd. They write everything from chick-lit, to sexual encounters with avatars. Ah yes, sexual encounters. Sex is a topic I had to deal with for the first time in my new book ..... and which I will save for another blog. Suffice it to say that hardly any female authors have ever won the Literary Bad Sex Award. Says it all, doesn't it!