Month: June 2017

3 Books, 3 Blogs

I’ve wanted to start a monthly round-up thing of stuff I loved/internet finds/blogs to follow, etc. Name ideas for this feature have included: Lorna’s Love List (I think that sounds a bit rude, though.  And not sarcastic rude.) Crap I Would Actually Buy (Maybe, if I remember to click the buttons.  And companies ship to the UK.  And while I’m at it Book of The Month, why aren’t you worldwide?) People I Want To Drink With –  See also: Where’s my teleporter?  Damn oceans.  Damn canceled ferries.  Mainland, I miss you. This Is Me, Throwing Books At You. Why Does Pact Coffee Keep Sending Us Fruit & Nut?  It is lovely, people.  And we have changed selections, but obviously not often enough. Decor Ideas I’ll Never Get Around To, BUT LOOK.  Because it’s pretty.  But my husband has commandeered the office.  I’m working on it.  But for now, I’m writing in the kitchen, hi. And so, let’s start with the books.  Most of my reading lately has been through Netgalley.  Thanks, Netgalley.  If these aren’t out yet, you should totally pre-order them. Then She Was Gone, Lisa Jewell – I LOVED this. Around 80% into the book, I actually said ‘Wow” This was actually my first Lisa Jewell read, but I’ve stock-piled some of them, and I’ll be binging now. We Are Never Meeting In Real Life, Samantha Irby...

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Of Balloons & Birthdays

‘Happy Birthday, baby!’ ‘Go to sleep, Mummy.’ ‘Aren’t you excited?’ ‘Sleeep, Mummy.’ Isla crawled into bed between us, then well, went back to sleep. ‘What time is it?’ ‘Five o’clock.’ ‘Well, shit.  G’night,’ I said. Two hours later.  Stickers and balloons in bed. ‘What, no penguins?’ Isla asked.  ‘C’mon, guys!’ Her favourite thing of the early morning was a helium balloon that we bought in Inverness (more on that shopping trip later.  Because it was indeed a trip.) Back to yesterday, or the night before.  We waited for Isla to go to bed before we drank beer and wrapped presents.  OK, I drank.  Neil wrapped.  I prefer gift bags. ‘Do we have to wrap each thing separately?  Isn’t that an American thing?’ ‘Iloveyoushutup.’ Neil was saved by a neighbourish (people in our house!) who came over to helium Isla’s helium balloon. We were all quite proud of the bright pink three floating around the kitchen. And like I said it was Isla’s favourite thing yesterday morning. Here she is hugging it. Isla + balloon = 6.  Or something. And then. I was getting in the car with Isla and her 24 classroom birthday cupcakes.  (Store-bought.  Because printed allergen lists.  And also because I’m just that kinda mother.) ‘OH NO.  OH NO.  MUMMY.  MY BALLOON’S IN THE SKY.’ ‘Dearest, don’t talk rubbish.  It’s in the kitchen.’ ‘LOOK, MUMMY.  The trees.’...

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25 Bookish Things About Me

 I am a flippant reader.  As soon as I read about a book that intrigues me, I MUST READ IT RIGHT NOW.  This leads to lots of piles.  Of books in various stages of readedness.  If a book grips me enough not to read anything else along  with it, that’s a GOOD THING. I usually have several books on the go.  A day book, a night book, a car book. Day books happen on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Audiobooks happen on road-trips. I have a thing for debut authors. I am a kindle convert. Netgalley.  Kinda obsessed. I have these notions that I will finish all the books in any given series.  It never happens in real life. Go-to genres are literary fiction, mystery/thrillers and lately YA. Before you ask, I hated Gone Girl. Auto-buys are Paul Auster, Alice Hoffman, Anne Tyler, and Dave Eggers. Dysfunctional families are my beloveds. I like legal/crime non-fiction. And funny memoirs. But I no longer have time for depressing-yet-ultimately-uplifting or triumphing over any sort of adversity.  Go away. I like books about books. I read longer books in the winter. My reading snacks are coffee and popcorn. I used to prefer paperbacks to hardbacks, but these days I don’t care. I hate book jackets. I miss my bookgroups and want to join another. My book cases are triple-stacked.  And changing things up is like...

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Writing In The Wild

‘I don’t want to go.’ ‘Yes, you do.’ ‘What are you going to do for me in exchange for going out and speaking to people?’ ‘I’ll fix your phone screen.’ ‘Good deal.  I prefer messaging to speaking.  Actually, I hate people.’ ‘No, you don’t.’ ‘I don’t.  But how bout reading?  Can I stay home and read?’ ‘No.’ ‘Harsh, dude.’ But I left Neil in the kitchen with my phone, working on his end of the bargain. I got in the car. We drove. ‘Y’know, let’s just go on a road-trip.  C’mon.  I don’t really need to do this.  Mairi, don’t make me go in.’ ‘Get out of the car.’ ‘I’d probably get more writing done at the at the house.’ ‘You wouldn’t, though, Mummy.’ Isla pipes up from the back. ‘Who asked you?  And seriously, HOW OLD ARE YOU?’ She just looked at me.  Like, into my soul.  That kid has been making me pull up my big girl pants since before she was born. So I went.  To a short story workshop.  That involved other people.  And we weren’t in my house. It was at the library.  For five minutes, it felt like being back at school.  I had a new bag, a notebook, a pen.  Because, y’know, writing.  Did I mention it wasn’t at my house? So, introductions.  I don’t remember what I said.  Whatever it was...

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I Should Take My Own Writing Advice

I’ve been writing for longer than you think.  I’ve been writing for longer than I think sometimes.  I used to write fiction, had five novels on the go.  Used to write short stories longhand.  On my bedroom floor.  When I was 25.  I used to draft things, even when people said to leave that shit in.  I used to type my writing at 3 in the morning, while blasting music I found on Napster.  That’s how far back we  go.  Even farther than that. I used to run writers groups for young writers that I am now OFFICIALLY too...

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