Freshers’ Week Day Three

Shattered today, and I can’t really form a reasonable sentence, so here are today’s notable things in no noticeable order:

1. It was busier at the Information Point than yesterday, but not as busy as Monday (thank the Lord)
2. I should have got to bed earlier last night and I would have coped better
3. One of the students thought the Students’ Union event planner was a boardgame – but he might have an idea there. Why isn’t it a boardgame?
4. Halfway through the day, some of the female dance students (at least one assumes it was them …) began to walk in very peculiar ways in very high heels in front of us. Presumably as part of their training? It was ever so slightly spooky … Are we in the Twilight Zone?
5. We shut up shop early afternoon as Freshers’ Fayre was on and nobody was interested in facts any more
6. The boss bought chocolate cake and Ruth made chocolate brownies for an afternoon party
7. The campus water supply went terribly terribly wrong and there was no water for most of the afternoon. At all.
8. One of my postgraduate talk presenters didn’t turn up to a talk I’d scheduled for them as they “hadn’t realised it was important”. Gaarrgghh. The PG department concerned wasn’t happy, understandably. I was upset as that particular department is very nice and we let them down. Groan.
9. The boss has had a promotion (well done hugely, David!) and is now Director of Student Care Services, rather than just Head of same. We are all therefore more important by proxy, hurrah. Well, one can hope, eh …
10. I was so tired that I fell asleep the moment I got home and am now feeling extremely disorientated.
11. I’m glad my Freshers’ Week is over, but I think we’ve done some worthwhile work.
12. I’m feeling disheartened by writing, but same old, same old, really.

Anne Brooke

Day Two of Freshers’ Week

Slightly better today, though still busy, and questions asked at my Information Point table tended to come in waves rather than full on as yesterday. I even managed to get back to the office for an hour during the day to catch up with email, while my team of voluntary staff held the fort which was good. And the day was shorter too – in at 8.15am and ending at 5.30pm, hurrah.

Also am more able to carry on conversations with people who aren’t students today as well – I had so many Fresher questions yesterday that the ability to communicate with or even think about anyone else utterly left me. Ruth found the same on her Information Point table too (in another building). Plus I fitted in two Starbucks runs for my little team, so that cheered us all greatly.

Today there were lots and lots of questions about where the University Hall was (where registration takes place) and also where the big Lecture Theatre was (known as the Griffiths Theatre), as there was a lot going on there today. I felt like an air stewardess saying over and over again (whilst pointing): to get to the University Hall, you go here, then here and then here, or to get to the Griffiths Theatre you go here and here. In case of difficulty, your oxygen masks will fall from the ceiling. Try to breathe normally. No, I didn’t actually say that last one. Honest. After a while, those of us behind the IP table got into a routine of pointing and chanting, depending on which direction people wanted, and at one stage I got a wave of hysteria and collapsed into giggles whilst pointing. I think the student got the message though as they headed off in the right direction. Phew.

At home, I was explaining that my whole day had basically consisted of lots of smiling and saying: Turn left for the University Hall; right for the Griffiths Theatre; turn right for the Griffiths Theatre; turn left for the University Hall; turn right into the Griffiths Hall; don’t be left behind in the University Theatre; have you found the Theatre Hall?; keep an eye out for the University Griffin. And so on and so on. Lord H suggested that I should have added: when you return to your room, the University Griffin will be waiting for you. Prepare to die. But I feel he might not have fully grasped the niceties of customer service. Ah well.

Anyway, it’s good to be home. I popped in to see Gladys on the way but she was very tired, so I just sat with her for a while. Managed to catch It Takes Two with Claudia on TV, which makes me feel as if I’m more into a normal routine again, hurrah. And later on it’s The Fixer. I might just manage to keep awake for it. You never know.

Today’s nice things:

1. Two Starbucks runs
2. Air stewardess training
3. The unexpected birth of the University Griffin
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – feeling more human today
Thorn in the Flesh – for the darker secrets of University staff …

Freshers’ Week Day One

Garrrggghhh.

Up at 6am. In office at 7.45am. At Information Point from 8am. 5 minute lunch. Packed up at 4.15pm. Back to office. Worked on admin until 6.15pm. Shattered.

That’s it really.

Anne Brooke – the one with no brain left
The Bones of Summer – about two men who didn’t go to University (phew!)

Wisley, sculpture and chilling

Am making the most of the day before the onslaught of Freshers’ Week next week. Honestly it’s been really great today that I haven’t had to talk to anyone apart from Lord H. Bliss. Here’s today’s poem:

Meditation 229

Water and prayer
quench the dry land’s thirst

and wash sin away.
If only

you could bottle both.

So we’ve had a delightful amble through the joys of Wisley, which included the excitements of the Sculpture Trail that was today’s special event. I particularly thrilled to the glorious sculpture of different sized fish on bicycles. Called Cycling School, it was utterly delightful and a work of genius perfectly placed. Wonderful. Here’s a link to a photograph of it. Ain’t that magical?… And here’s a link to the sculptor - some fabulous pieces there too. Anyway, we had lunch out at the Wisley cafe, which was very pleasant though it did appear that the staff were on a go-slow in terms of collecting up dirty plates. We suspect the scary manager isn’t on today – every other time we’ve been there, the clearing up has been astonishingly good and the moment a table is vacated, it’s cleared and wiped down for the next people. As it should be really. Today, the system was something of a mess. Ah well.

This afternoon, I’ve had a much-needed nap – heck, I need all the strength I can get for the week to come, I fear. Later, we’ll be looking at holidays (hurrah!) and I’ll probably do some more editing to The Hit List. Robert is looking sultry and mysterious. Always get your characters to play to their strengths, eh. And there’s sod-all on TV, sigh.

I’ve also enjoyed Mary Beard’s Pompeii, which is a non-fiction study of that tragic town. Very interesting indeed, though I did feel it was rather too heavy in places. But a highly useful manual if you’re intending to visit, which we are, at some point.

Here’s this week’s rather sparse haiku:

Nothing in my head
this week is worth the paper
I scribble it on.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Wisley
3. Sculptures
4. Napping
5. Editing The Hit List
6. Books
7. Haikus.

Anne Brooke – something of a fish on a bicycle herself
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice – ideal Sunday drinking

Condescending publishers and Freshers galore

Goodness me, but what an exhausting and severely draining day. Here’s today’s poem though, which I just had time for this morning:

Meditation 228

Offering money
for the gift of salvation

is lambasted
to oblivion

by the sainted
Peter and John

but has in fact
been in common use

for centuries since
in the church.

Really, the more I do these meditation poems, the more cynical I become, I fear. Church is all too debilitating these days. One wonders what it’s all for.

Anyway, I’ve been severely peed off by some pesky small-time publisher who emailed me to say, in a very high-handed and condescending tone, how extremely hard to read The Gifting is but of course they were sure I would find someone to take it on one day. Ignorant t*****s. They’re obviously unable to read words of more than one syllable anyway, so no wonder nobody’s heard of them. And I would like to advise all publishers here and now that if they do reject a piece of work, then the sentence they need to send out is simply:Thank you, but this does not fit our lists. Really, that’s all they need to say – any other ridiculous and ill-thought out statement is likely only to cause offence. And it keeps the syllables down to only one per word, which is surely doable for most of them … One would hope.

For a large part of the day, I have been smiling and smiling like a villain while we greet Freshers onto campus and settle them into their rooms. Not a job for which I am remotely suited, but I think I managed to fool them into thinking I was a nice normal human being, rather than a severely pissed-off furious and failing would-be fantasy writer whose books no publisher will apparently touch with a proverbial bargepole. Whilst sending snippety emails and putting the boot in at the same time. And on the whole my smile remained mostly on. Which is a bloody miracle indeed.

But, Lordy, our new students think they’ve got problems. Really, they have no idea how very lucky they are – must be great to be at the very beginning of one’s career and have it still all to play for. Rather than being somewhere in the middle of life, with mid-life droop and have really not much to play for at all – and what little there is, so few people seem to actually want. Which is what it feels like, precisely here and precisely now. I can guarantee to you that in twenty years’ time, I’ll still be in the same literary position I am in today: that is, struggling along at the bottom, being told by well-meaning and of course totally lovely people that I have to keep going, but selling no more than 50-100 or so copies of each book (not counting the poetry books, where I sell about 10 and then give the rest away). Honestly, sometimes this business is like being back at primary school – I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me and indeed I’m no worse than anyone else (as my new strapline says!), but still nobody wants to be friends. It’s a mystery. I do think the sense of hope I had nine years ago when I first started writing fiction is all but vanquished. Cynicism reigns supreme. And maybe indeed the solution is not to try so hard? I do think that my decision to go back to the self-publishing process is definitely the best way forward – I’m much happier, mental health-wise, if I don’t even have to enter the submissions arena at all. Yes, I will try with the small GLBT press as and when I produce GLBT fiction, but for the rest, I simply don’t want to put myself through the horror and terrible depression of it all. Publishing is not in any sense of the phrase a pleasant business: I don’t think I could ever encourage anyone now to try to be a professional writer – it’s like suggesting that they walk through fire in order to reach a distant and probably imaginary oasis. Probably not worth the burning.

Oh, but I must say that halfway through my “smiling at Freshers and being nice when I just feel like weeping” ordeal, Lord H turned up with two Starbucks cappuccinos, one for me and one for Clare, who was staffing our table with me – so we leapt upon him with great cries of glee and swore undying adoration. I think he was pleased … But really – what a superhero!

So, after all that, thank goodness for the joys of Strictly Come Dancing tonight – I am currently rooting for both Ricky and Phil, but can’t make up my mind which one I prefer. I’ll see how they do in the Latin dances later on, and then decide who gets my vote!

Oh, and I’ve finished Adam Thorpe’s short story collection, Is This The Way You Said? – which I’m hoping to review for Vulpes Libris at some point (though at the moment don’t wait up …). A very interesting collection and well worth a read, though a couple of the stories (including the long title story) didn’t really quite work for me. I also read the list in the front of all the wonderful novels and poetry collections he’s published over the last few years and felt like spitting and sticking a pitchfork into his ruddy successful bottom, but I shall endeavour not to let my extreme bitterness and overwhelming deal-envy get the better of me when I write the review. Hmm, we’ll see, eh …

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Being bitchy about pesky publishers who, frankly, deserve it
3. Cappuccinos from Lord H
4. TV
5. Books (even though, today, I hate all authors who appear in bookshops on principle).

Anne Brooke – bitter, twisted, but with a jolly nice smile, ho ho
The Gifting – totally unpublishable and very hard to read, apparently …

Golf and glittery frocks

What a glorious day it’s been today – an Indian summer indeed. Here’s today’s verse:

Meditation 227

Sometimes the only thing
that counts
is the wild shedding

of blood:
from the small agonies
of ancient kings – 

names long forgotten – 
to the murderous fury
of Paul

as he condemns to darkness
those he’s come
to hate,

it has always been so.

Not really suited to the weather, I know, but what the heck eh. This morning, I have played a rollercoaster game of golf with Marian, which she rightfully won, as being far and away the most consistent player. I had an utterly appalling time on the sixth hole, where astonishingly I missed my first tee shot entirely, but managed somehow to knock the tee itself backwards (backwards?! I ask you!!) whilst leaving the ball still in its place on the mat. Just slightly lower. Ah, the shame. Though it was in some respects a shot of true genius. My second attempt knocked the ball a foot or so in front of me so I decided to try again. My third attempt sent the ball so high that it landed in a tree and then fell between the three split branches so it was completely unplayable. When I took my shot from the nearest point to there, it then went straight into the pond. Lordy. Marian by this time was beside herself with hysterical laughter, and I did wonder whether I should call for an ambulance. Just in case. Never say I’m not caring … I eventually finished the damn hole in 12. 12!!! Shocking for a par 3 hole. Mind you, I managed to partially redeem myself by getting four apiece in the next three holes, but of course Marian still won. By a good mile.

I then popped into Godalming to restock my essential supplies of Quiet Life pills (over the next week I’m definitely going to need them …) and peppermint oil. I aim always for a state of calm alertness. As you can tell, ho ho. I’ve also been working away on the edit to The Hit List and am now on p106 and a quarter of the way through. Robert’s arrived. He’s pretty damn hot. I forget how much I like Robert – nice to reacquaint myself with him again after so long. I’m enjoying this more than I anticipated I would, I must say.

Oh and I’m fighting a losing battle with trying to get DHL to deliver a parcel to me. They tried it yesterday, but were confused by the door arrangements and left a card without knocking. When I rang up this morning, I find the parcel number on the card is wrong, so they weren’t sure for quite a while who the sender might be, and when I asked to change the delivery address to be Lord H’s work one, I was told I couldn’t do that as only the sender can change details. The sendee is too untrustworthy for such dizzy responsibility. After much argy-bargy, I gather they might try and redeliver here tomorrow, but of course I’ll be out at the University welcoming Freshers with a bright smile and a lot of leaflets. Ah well, we’ll wait and see then …

Tonight, we have a Strictly Come Dancing TV extravaganza. I have promised Lord H I will be strong and not vote for anyone, but I told him that last week, and rushed to the phone back then to vote for Chris & Ola as soon as I could – so I fear my husband does not entirely believe me … I must also do some kind of cleaning before I need to get my sparkly frock out. Bring on the glitter ball. As they say.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Trick golf
3. Editing The Hit List
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – bamboozled by golf balls
The Bones of Summer – a truly sizzling read, naturally …

Reviews and stonings

I have to say it’s great not to be in the office today. Almost feels like being normal (perish the thought). Here’s today’s poem:

Meditation 226

To start the day:
a good stoning.
Cover your ears

and let sharp rocks
blanket the words
that pierce you most

while the rough cloaks
of murderers
lie heavy in your arms.

My, Saul of Tarsus/St Paul could be a bloodthirsty man on occasion. And really I can’t blame him – Stephen the Martyr did go on so. If I’d been there, I might well have stoned him myself. Just to shut him up. Hush my mouth.

Anyway, I’m pleased to say that Maloney’s Law has received a five star review on Amazon US, which you can read below:

“This is one compelling and riveting story. I could not put it down. Paul is one tortured soul and his mesmerizing narration grips me from page 1. International intrigues, heart stopping plot, gut wrenching love, a heart tugging friendship, Maloney’s Law has it all. Paul is such a complex character. Flawed and pitiful when it comes to his obsessive love for a man who could never reciprocate. Yet without a thought for his life when his search for the truth drives him on. His tragic loss since childhood, his plunge into despair, his sense of justice, his struggle to live on, all these powerfully expressed by the writer. Just brilliant and I look forward to reading the sequel, The Bones of Summer, and more from Anne Brooke. My only regret is that I should have read this earlier.” 

Gosh, thank you, R Parkland – so glad you enjoyed the read!

I’ve also received my proof copy of Salt and Gold and have made one or two corrections and lowered the price to £3.50 for the paperback. So I’ve asked for another proof copy and will wait to see what that looks like before I go properly public. As it were.

For the rest of the day, I’ve been continuing the edit of The Hit Listand am now happily on p50. Which is roughly one-eighth through. Yes, I do need to cut drastically, as it’s quite long for a comedy romance (which is what I’m now intending to make it, rather than comedy crime). We’ll see how things shape up as we go on, as they say.

I’ve also had my back realigned at my Alexander Technique lesson – and goodness me but it needed it after two flights and a tense work week. I think I was all but Toblerone shaped when I walked in, but rather more normal (ho ho) when the lesson had finished. I have to think about inhabiting my space more, apparently. Trouble is, I do find people difficult (they’re stealing my space, they’re stealing it!) so I tend to duck down and shy away from them, especially if I don’t know them. Which of course leads inevitably to a hunched back and a very stiff neck. Sigh. What a lot there is to relearn indeed. On oh so many levels.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. The review of Maloney’s Law
3. Tweaking Salt and Gold
4. Editing The Hit List
5. Alexander Technique.

Anne Brooke – conserving her sense of her own space to the best of her limited ability
Maloney’s Law – a tortured soul made good …

Positivity overload and TV heaven

Here’s today’s poem:

Meditation 225

Two men
rehearse the past

while the darkness
surrounding God

rolls in
like the sea

and the secret heart
of fire burns

but does not kill.
Let their long words

cease, fall into
silence.

I forgot to say that we had great fun yesterday making up an alternative new strapline for the business – a fun fifteen minutes which came about as one of our colleagues from another office had to come in to see us as, what with the build-up to Freshers’ Week, she was suffering badly from an overload of positivity. Really, constantly saying everything is perfect is not good for the mental health, you know – and you can always rely on our office for a good grumble, and a rather more honest view. Anyway, the upshot is a new virtual strapline: No worse than anywhere else and better than some. Heck, it does it for me. And Lord H was also impressed and said he’d definitely apply for a course at an organisation with that level of honesty. Sadly, I don’t feel it will be acceptable to the powers that be, and so I might end up purloining the strapline for my own writing life:Anne Brooke: no worse than any other writer and better than some.You heard it here first.

Another fun moment from yesterday was the moment when a man suddenly appeared at the window. No strangeness there, you might think, but we are on the third floor, so we were for a short while highly impressed with the length of his legs (steady, people …). Until we realised he was actually hanging from a rope and cleaning the windows. Nobody told us he was due. Perhaps he was an intrepid burglar after all? The plot thickens.

Meanwhile, the CoolReader disasters continue. Lord H is doing sterling work attempting to persuade them to do the decent thing under the circumstances. Now, however, they are asking us to send the machine back so they can check that we haven’t damaged it ourselves before they consider reimbursement. Um, no. Frankly, I no longer trust them not to do something to the wretched ereader to make it look as if we have damaged it, just so they can get out of paying us the refund. And I’d like to state for the record now that I did not hurt the wretched beast in any way and neither did Lord H. We’re not hooligans. Or criminals. The first machine broke down and then the second machine broke down. It’s up to CoolReaders to deal with it in the way that we would like. And not to assume that we are in the wrong. To my mind, they need to take a long and serious look at their customer care skills. And I would certainly warn people not to buy anything from them. At all. Deep deep sigh … Mind you, I’ve finally managed to get hold of my Twitter CoolReader contact and she seems to be talking some sense at last, for which we are grateful. Here’s hoping it continues.

At work, I’m still attempting to tackle my outstanding piles of minutes, and also to deal with final Freshers’ Week crises. I must really pick up the University stands and great droves of tablecloths today – this is my one big task. I have also remembered to put my Here to Help t-shirt and badge in my bag so I can go straight to the venue on Saturday when I’m in without having to come to the office first. All these things save time. Thank goodness then for my second cappuccino of the week. Am I in danger of becoming an addict?

On the way back home, I popped into see Gladys, but she really wasn’t up to much, poor thing. She even turned her nose up at chocolate (shock! horror!). Ah well. Tonight, I’m looking forward to relaxing in a veritable TV heaven – It Takes Two with the lovely Claudia (bliss) and then two hours of the glorious Midsomer Murders. I can’t wait.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. New straplines
3. Mysterious window cleaners
4. Cappuccino – again!
5. TV.

Anne Brooke – no worse than any other writer and better than some
A Dangerous Man – now there’s someone who wouldn’t take any nonsense from an ereader company

An imperfect past and shopping galore

I’m pleased to say that my review of Julian Fellowes’ almost perfect novel, Past Imperfect, is now up at Vulpes Libris. Definitely a novel worth the reading, in my opinion.

Though, keeping to the topic of book matters, I’m sad and very frustrated to say that the CoolReader company are being extremely difficult – Lord H has three times asked for our money back and each time they’ve come back with a standard sales email pitching something else to us that we can download from the internet to mend our machine. Well, to be honest, that isn’t good enough and I’m very unhappy about it. I don’t much care what patches they’ve produced to cobble the darn thing together now – the fact remains that they sold me a duff machine in the first place, then replaced it with another duff machine – and now the implication is that all the machines they sold must have been duff as they’re promoting this marvellous new “cure” for all. Well, we don’t want it. We just want our money back and we’re going to continue to keep asking them until that is achieved. How difficult can that be for them, for goodness sake??? Take this as a warning, anyone who is thinking of purchasing a CoolReader …

Today I’ve been attempting to tackle writing up the minutes from yesterday’s meeting, plus the ones that were left over from before the holiday. But, really, my interest is very small, especially with Freshers’ Week looming over us and casting its long dark shadow. As it were. Plus I also have to think about the new and thrilling things I appear to have to do as a result of my review, but the thought of all that is pitching me into existential despair. Groan. And double groan. Besides, how can you improve on perfection?…

And still the excitement mounts – I popped out to Tesco’s at lunchtime to get in some shopping and then popped back after work to get some more. Lordy, but my days are so meaningful. Mind you, Ruth has improved the afternoon hugely by getting in the Starbucks order and she even sprinkled a chocolate topping on my cappuccino – thank you so much, Ruth! Where would I be without you?

Not much on TV tonight – apart from the glorious Claudia on It Takes Two. But I am starting to rejig my very first novel, The Hit List, and make it more acceptable (I hope) for the American GLBT market. Plus it needs a barrel-load of improvements and a thorough professional edit. So far I’m on page 4 and actually quite enjoying wielding that red pen. It used to be page 46 … Um, joke. Sort of.

Today’s nice things:

1. The Vulpes Libris review
2. Cappuccino
3. TV
4. Rejigging The Hit List.

Anne Brooke – pondering her own imperfect past …
Vulpes Libris: considering the perfection of the journey

Back to work …

Here’s today’s poem for you:

Meditation 224

A man with the face
of an angel

doesn’t really do it
for me.

Sometimes
a little darkness

seasons the mix
more perfectly.

Other writing news is that Cassie from the Joyfully Reviewed website gave The Bones of Summer a rather nice review and you can read it here. Thanks, Cassie – much appreciated.

Ah the pains of being back to work though. I have six zillion emails, several Freshers’ Week crises and an attitude problem. Same old same old then, eh. Ah well. I am attempting to rationalise the emails, keeping my head down and hoping for the end of the day to be soon, please God.

Had to get my smiley professional head on for the lunchtime Steering Group meeting though – it’s supposed to be our new style meetings so I don’t have to take many notes apparently, but we’ll see. I fear too much that I might miss something vital, as I’m never really sure what the vital things actually are.

Tonight, I’m at the University Book Group and we’re looking at Julian Fellowes’ glorious novel, Past Imperfect, so it should be fun. That is, if I haven’t run screaming to the hills by then. Coincidentally, I’m also reviewing it for Vulpes Libris tomorrow, so that’s almost perfect timing.

And thank goodness for the light relief of Would I Lie To You? on TV tonight. My week is utterly incomplete without David Mitchell.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. The Bones of Summer review
3. Books
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – sullenly to school …
The Bones of Summer – a very modern romance