Not Nice

Jane Smith over at How Publishing Really Works at has declared today Anti-Plagiarism Day. There are some interesting posts on the subject out in blogland and I thought I'd contribute in a small way.

I noticed this month that once again my book review in the local paper has been attributed to someone else. A man this time. Greg Burns. (It was Polly something last time.) I'm sure he's a very nice man. He might even be a very good writer - better than me. But he didn't write that 300 word book review. I did. I don't get paid, but still. I like doing them, and before the paper was taken over recently there was even a little photo of me to accompany the review and a bit about me and my services to humanity job in the library. Now, I don't even get a mention.

It sucks actually, so I can sort of imagine how people must feel to have whole swathes of text that they've sweated over passed off as someone else's work. Not nice.

Anyway, I've fired off a creative email informing the paper that I won't be contributing anymore.

So there.

Done and dusted - for now

Well the first draft of the "rather silly" novel is finished. That is, I've typed The End. What happens now is anyone's guess. Accidental deletion knowing me.

No, the plan is to leave it to settle for a while (half an hour at least) before starting the real work of making it better. Hopefully I won't read it back and think, oh dear. Maybe I'd better leave it longer than half an hour for some proper perspective.

I shall rest my eyes for a bit and try and forget all about the characters, who have become like imaginary friends, and then crack on with some short stories. I've also had an idea for another novel so I may start that too - otherwise I won't know what to do with my hands.

Elsewhere: A random study somewhere has revealed that library staff are the least bitchy people to work with. They obviously haven't worked in our branch ...

(for obvious reasons I'd better add just kidding.)

The End?

I promise I won't do any more of these. Until the next time ...

Look into my eyes ...

This is silly but quite clever. Then again I'm rather simple about these things - you'll undoubtedly work it out much faster than I did. Sorry it's a bit blurry, but that's the best way to view David Copperfield in my opinion.

**Warning - Don't look into his eyes for too long, or you'll fall in love with him.

Admission of gross stupidity

How many times have I been told to back-up work on the PC? Only a squillion and two. The words are instilled in me, as they should be in anyone who uses a computer every day. Do I take heed? Well most of the time I do, actually. After all I'd hate to lose 13000 precious words wouldn't I? Precious to me. To anyone else it might seem a blessing.

So why oh why oh why in the name of Maltesers, did I not do that very simple thing on my last few writing sessions??? I know why. I'm a fool. I copy my work onto a memory stick, which I'm forever jabbing into my Netbook then transferring to the computer at home or even at the library sometimes, and I started getting lackadaisical about saving to the hard drive. Naturally the unthinkable happened.

Yesterday I saved my work to the USB pen as usual, stuck it in the PC later on, tried to open the document (with the whole novel on it - 77000 words worth) and...nothing. Worse than nothing. A nasty little message saying "this file is corrupt and unreadable." I knew how it felt. Except my face was pretty easy to read.

Bashing myself over the head with a dustbin lid was the least of it. Frantically opening the document I last saved to the PC I don't know how long ago, I realised I'd lost 13000 words. I tried to distance myself from the fact (oh okay, I cried) and spent the rest of the evening fiddling about trying to recover/repair the USB file (ahem, this has happened before) to no avail. I even bought and downloaded some online software that promised the earth and didn't deliver.

Then...

Up at 6.30 this morning, wearily determined to either have another go at repairing the file, or simply start writing all those words again (no chance of meeting my deadline now I thought - and who would believe me when it sounds like the worst sort of excuse? - I blinked at the screen.

What was that? A recovered temporary file in Notepad??

I opened it tentatively, holding my breath, and almost cried again. It was nearly all there. 1000 words and some bits of editing I did yesterday morning had gone; hadn't saved for some reason - must be when the corruption or whatever it was happened - but the rest was intact. In a strange font with no formatting, but what the hell. A victory dance was performed. It wasn't very elegant but the dog didn't mind.

Oh my days. Relieved? I've had a bar of Fruit n' Nut for breakfast to celebrate.

Will I be backing up in future? I already have, in about five different places and now I need a lie-down.

Reality Byte

After seeing Lane's fabulous mini-movie Surgery (if you haven't already do go and check it out, it's brilliant) I was inspired - or should I say distracted - to try it for myself.



If you're tempted to give it a go - don't. It's addictive.

A day at the zoo

I've sold a story to Woman's Weekly for the first time, so I'm Very Pleased Indeed.

It fair took my mind off traipsing round Cotswold Wildlife Park in the pouring rain and a howling wind (don't know what went wrong there - the weather forecast was quite good). The fellow above made me smile though. Looks rather like a cartoon guinea-pig.

I never did find out what he really is, and I'm not sure I want to.

And there were lots of things in threes ...


What's that all about??

8 things

The lovely Laura Cassidy recently tagged me to reveal "8 things" so to take my mind off the fact that my daughter, having passed her driving test, is now trawling the highways in her first ever motor-vehicle, being cut up by shouty men in white vans, and that I still have a way to go before meeting my self-imposed June 26th deadline, I'm more than happy to oblige. Even though I should be writing. My novel.

*Warning - some of the answers may not be true (don't sue me)

8 Things I look forward to

Making a cake and eating it (all)
Settling down to read a book
Settling down to write a book
Saddling up my seahorse (Riley) and riding the waves on a hot summer's day
The audience response when I play my trombone with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (they often cry)
Playing in the sandpit with my meerkat, Thomas
Seeing my husband at the end of every day
Reading your blogs


8 Things I did yesterday

Combed my hair
Thought about claming my mortgage on expenses
Went to a Pampered Chef party and bought a bamboo spoon
Spoke to a policeman
Cleaned up dog sick
Wished upon a star
Wrote 1000 words
Removed a dead bird from the conservatory


8 Things I wish I could do

Sing
Dance
Fly
Make a cheesecake that didn't taste 'yuk'
Be 21 again and know what I know now
Get a novel published
Carry a moonbeam home in a jar
Build a time machine

8 Shows I watch

The Apprentice
America's Next Top Model
Lost
The Inbetweeners
Peep Show
Desperate Housewives
Mad Men
The Wright Stuff

And that's all folks!

I won't tag you in case you have tag fatigue, but do feel free to poach.

Milestones

If you'd care to swivel your eyes towards m'word counter you'll see that I'm now over halfway through the novel. These are the most words wot I have written since I managed a whole one a few years ago (when I was young and foolish) and I'm Very Chuffed.

Also I wrote the word Penis yesterday, without blushing. In the novel, not on the pavement or anything. It was in context, but quite humourous as I still can't write Serious Sex without imagining my mother's expression.

Which is totally unfair as she's probably more open-minded than I am.

Twelfth time lucky

Author Sophie King was signing copies of her new book The Wedding Party at an independent bookshop near where I work today, so I thought I'd pop along.

What gives me hope with my writing is that, despite being a successful journalist and prolific short story writer under her real name, Jane Bidder, Sophie wrote 11 (yes eleven) novels before finally getting published. One of them was rejected because her agent had taken on another novel that was too similar. How annoying must that be?

But she Never Gave Up. And neither will I - despite my porridge elbow giving me gyp (jip? gip?) grief. Although it's better than it was, so I can't complain!