Describe the place where you write/draw

I’m incredibly spoiled because I have a room above our garage that I use as an office and I tend to go there to when I’m at home. The view is lovely, and makes me have to pinch myself, but in the winter it is ridiculously cold.

What is your most treasured possession?

I think probably at the moment it is the felt bear puppet that my son Joe made. It is without doubt the best felt bear puppet in the history of that honourable craft (no maternal bias there whatsoever).

What times of the day do you work?

If I’ve got a ‘writing day’ I work 9 to 5, or 8 to 6 if I’ve set myself a hard task. Then in the evenings I try and do admin.

What distracts you?

Oh god, everything these days. I was really good at concentrating until about two years ago and now I’ve finally succumbed to the 21^st century disease of distraction. Currently I’m trying the Pomodoro technique, which is basically where you set a timer to 30 minutes and keep working until it beeps. One of my friends has this thing that switches his internet off. If you’ve got any other suggestions please do bung them my way.

What is your favourite smell? Read the rest of this entry »

If you’ve read any of the blurb about Mistress of the Storm, or its follow-up, Heart of Stone, (out in January book fans) then you’ll know the mysterious town of Wellow is a fictional version of Ventnor on the Isle of Wight. I actually grew up in Cowes which is on the north side of the Island but I always loved Ventnor which is very remote and all the more magical for it.

To my often-voiced disappointment I don’t live on the Island any more. And what with small children, work, life etc. I realised that I hadn’t spent any proper time walking around the places I was describing for too long.

So earlier this year I decided to fit in some time on my own between school visits to remind myself what my lovely homeland looks like. It was wonderful I’m ashamed to report (it all felt horribly indulgent). After I’d visited Somerton and Solent Middle Schools in Cowes I drove straight to Ventnor to take in the view. You can just about make out the real Spyglass Inn in the distance here:

Read the rest of this entry »

Continuing our series of author storyblogs about misunderstandings*, we have a charming post from none other than M L Welsh.  Merry Monday!

‘Tilda

 *akin to Archie’s antics in I Don’t Believe It, Archie!

Misunderstandings are a daily occurrence in our house; I’m easily confused, my husband doesn’t really listen to anything anyone is saying and our two sons arguably don’t help by providing a constant backdrop of car/tractor/lorry/digger/drill noises, shouts, squeals and shrieks. Dear reader, it’s a disaster. But by a country mile my favourite misunderstanding has got to be the ‘hol’d’y home’ incident of 2008.

That was the year we took an ill-advised trip to Cornwall. It was not a success. Although we broke the journey into two sections, our elder son Joe felt the eight-hour drive to be too long and made his views on this known by screaming from Dorset until arrival. And it was downhill from there really.

We’d booked a cottage by the sea. ‘How lovely it will be,’ I thought. But Joe took ag’in the house from the start. In fact, he hated it. ‘Joe no wan’ go hol’d’y home,’ he would explain several times each day to my long-suffering friend Victoria, who was staying with us. ‘Joe wan’ go Joe home.’

Read the rest of this entry »