SueJEaton

I know I’d planned to finish the dystopian novella (as yet untitled) I’ve been picking at off and on. I was determined that I would concentrate on it.

I would,

• finish it as a first draft,
• take it to the writing group to have it critically assessed,
• find a Beta reader,
• polish it,
• submit it.

Guess what?

I’ve come up with an idea for a sequel to The Ceres Illusion, my soon to be published YA sci-fi adventure.

I do have a number of WsIP at the same time and dip into the one I fancy on the day.

E.g. do I want to be in dystopian Stoke-on-Trent or does the planet with dragons take my fancy?

But I do like to have the main one that I try and work on most days and bring it to completion by the end of the year otherwise I just have a computer full of half-finished stories that never get anywhere.

Last night we were presented with our first gift from Luna our usually lazy madam who prefers the comfort of the underfloor heating in the bathroom to the great outdoors.

She does go out, usually at night. She wanders through at exactly the moment whatever we’re watching on the telly is reaching a critical point and claws at the door at the bottom of the stairs. One of us has to get up and open it before she makes more of a mess of the door thus spoiling the emotional atmosphere the drama is trying to portray.

She likes to slip through my bedroom window and over the roof. She then reappears sometime in the night, landing with an enormous thud on the wooden floor and waking me up. I know it’s the cat and not a burglar because no self-respecting burglar would make such a noise.

She came back early last night, and I could hear scrabbling on the stairs so opened the door before she tore the carpet to shreds. It’s new and supposed to be my forever carpet. There on the bottom step was a gift.

Fortunately for me – not the gift – it was dead.

It was late and dark, and I wasn’t up to chasing said gift around the house while it’s packed to the gunnels with other people’s stuff.

I’m afraid I didn’t give it a decent burial, just a quick one.

The cat was not impressed.

I enjoy a bit of history and the more obsure the facts the better. I don’t usually go back to the Middle Ages preferring the Tudor and Stuart eras but this tickled the psychologist in me. Times may change but human nature is human nature

It is said that the Bayeaux Tapestry, actually an embroidery and commissioned in the 1070s, features 623 men, 190 horses, 37 ships, 35 dogs, 3 (yes 3) women, and 93 penises of which 88 belong to horses.

The horse with the largest penis belongs to Duke William of Normandy later known as the Conqueror.

It appears that the dick-mobile has a long and checkered history.

Another town, another Comic Con. This May Day I was at Buxton Comic Con in the Peak District. Foggy journey, lovely venue and a well-attended event.

It was a tiring day but well worth it and not only did I meet up with existing friends but had some delightful conversations with others.

I didn’t need the satnav as I know the route so no interesting byways this time – which was a shame.

I’ve just realised I haven’t written anything for a couple of weeks. I have been busy with family commitments, Comic Cons and meeting new and old friends at St Andrew’s Church Book Fair. I have also been writing quite a lot too. An interesting submission call got me quietly excited, and I reeled off a story and sent it off. We shall see.

I had not been the Northwich Comic Con before so was looking forward to meeting new people as well as old friends. I had a lovely day, the weather was gorgeous, I covered costs, met the lovely James Lefebure, a fellow writer and caught up with folk I knew.

The return journey was a bit of an adventure. I don’t know Northwich town. I’ve not been for years so I switched on the satnav. I really just needed it to get out of the town.

Well – I don’t know if she’d been reading the Dirk Gently books by Douglas Adams, but she certainly took me down some very interesting country lanes, through a ford, past villages I didn’t know existed and signposts to nowhere I’d heard of before finally coughing me the right side of Crewe. I doubt I’ll ever find that way again …

…which is a shame!

My house is old – very old. So old that we have to have planning permission to change the use of the cupboards. Well, perhaps it just feels like it because planning for the new extension took on biblical proportions

When I was younger – er young – I used to babysit for this family who lived in a really old house and you get seasick walking along the passage to the child’s bedroom upstairs. I always vowed I would live in a house with floorboards that had grown wonky with age.

Everything about my house is old and quirky which is how I like it. I love history and things that have a story behind them. I am fascinated by the fact that I am touching something that has been touched by someone who lived long ago and had a life, perhaps good, perhaps bad. I try to feel them through handling the object. (Don’t judge, we all have a thing, that’s mine.) I scour the flea markets for interesting items that I need and look good in my house. No IKEA here.

But …

Beware what you wish for.

Imagine facing this when you come up stairs in the dead of night.

I always imagine that one night I shall see feet in the gap beneath the door.

That I shall hear heavy breathing from whoever waits for me to get close enough …

That I will hear the click as the latch is pressed …

That the door will slowly swing open …

I have to admit to never, and I mean never, walk upstairs after dark with my eyes open.