I, Scamp, the Pawsome one am mightily offended. I am told that I am going grey around the gills. I thought it was only fish who had gills? Going grey is for old people and I am only seven. O.K. - and a half but that is nothing! Even she who thinks she should be obeyed at all times isn't grey and she is ancient. But apparently my brown patches on my face are nearly white. They used to match the patch around my tail piece which is still vibrant thankfully, but what has happened to my face patches I can't imagine; maybe they just faded in all that sunshine.
Well obviously I was not going to let my brother Pickle hog the limelight, so listen up! Scamp has seized the platform!
I have commandeered this post, which means my brother Scamp, known to me sometimes as the Squirt, will probably follow suit with the next one. Where Pickle leads Scamp invariably follows. I like to think that I am the leader of the three of us. Unfortunately, so does Scamp on occasion, whilst Herself insists that she should be obeyed at all times and is therefore our illustrious leader. This produces potential problematicals. (JRT speak technical term.)
Another agent rejected her novel this morning, which is obviously disappointing. However, it was a very encouraging message telling her not to give up as it is, after all, a very subjective industry. So she is determined to crack on. But first she has to get organised. Cleaning isn't easy because we don't like it—any of it —but some serious tidying up is called for. Apparently she has never been particularly tidy and was constantly nagged by her mother who told her as a child that a tidy room showed a tidy mind so she says she is on a mission to get organised. But obviously we need to get this blog together and she finds a glass of wine conducive to creativity...
Apparently we are not having a holiday this year. That said, there are holidays and holidays. We used to go away for weekends on a regular basis and had some full weeks away as well. We used to go to what we called our Bolthole and we loved it. It was a three bedroom static caravan in Cornwall. It had decking so we used to have somewhere where we could run free or flop out and enjoy the sunshine. Unfortunately, she sold it after a nasty experience letting others enjoy, it but oh! We do miss it—we loved going there.
Some authors write in a particular genre and all their work relates to that genre. Crime, horror, fantasy, sci-fi, romance—these spring to mind instantly. When asked, she who thinks she must be obeyed at all times says she writes character driven fiction. However, within this you have a whole raft of themes.