every day should be a susie day

The FABULOUS BAKE-A-BOY CHALLENGE is now over, and I’m thrilled to announce that the winner is…

IFFATH, for her magnificent Gingerbread Susie!

Look! It's me, only gingerbready!

I have it on good authority that there was an iced version of those green Converse, but it went the way of all gingerbread before it could be photographed.    Congratulations, Iffath – signed books and gingerbread goodies will be on their way to you soon!  And since she’s apparently multi-talented, the rest of you can cheer yourself up by visiting Iffath’s brilliant YA book blog, LoveReadingX.

Am running out of creative ways to wedge books into my overflowing bookshelves, so I’m back in local library mode – which means my choices are down to serendipity (and how many I can fit in my handbag).  Just finishing Madeleine L’Engle’s classic A Wrinkle In Time, which has the best opening few chapters imaginable.  I could live without the unicorns and the bits where I get told how Jesus is a bit like Rembrandt – but there’s Proper Science, a heartfelt quest for a missing mathematical genius parent, and kids who are weird and brainy and that’s presented as really quite handy.  Hooray!

Writing group met this weekend.  We interspersed our usual curry and wailing with masses of practical stuff, and much constructive hand-holding.  How people carry on writing without that sort of support, I’ll never know.  They giggled at the appropriate moments in my chapter, anyway – and reminded me of several abandoned projects of mine I’d completely forgotten.  They say when you finish a manuscript, you should put it in a drawer, so you can gain some distance.  YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TAKE IT OUT AGAIN THOUGH.  Brain, please take note.

Wishing daytime telly still meant Utter Bobbins, and not Chuck reruns and Project Runway; attempting to explain the British electoral system to a 16-year-old Kazakh student (apparently I should’ve said ‘we don’t have one’, sigh); becoming oddly obsessed with ham.

No Graham Norton guest appearance on Doctor Who this week, though it appears some people would have preferred him to pop up distractingly in the closing moments…

Flesh and Stone: angels and Amy and SPOILERS, oh my!

Public Service Announcement, for anyone still planning to enter the FABULOUS BAKE-A-BOY CHALLENGE competition (closing date is this Friday, btw): Delia’s gingerbread men recipe is rubbish! Now have kitchen full of inedible people. I sense the Ginger(bread) Companions Club beckoning, just to get rid of the little beggars…  (Much nicerer recipe here, btw.)  Did I mention that you can win lovely free signed books and things?  Go on go on, you will, you will, you will…

This weekend is all about the snogging, apparently. Just finished Luisa Plaja’s Swapped By A Kiss, the semi-sequel to the very funny Split By A Kiss, and it’s another twisty and touching treat. Spiky American Rachel, convinced her British best mate Jo has the perfect life, wishes they could swap places – but when they do, walking in Jo’s shoes isn’t quite as she’d imagined. So far, so Freaky Friday – but as with her previous novels it’s a deceptively clever read, with each girl keeping secrets from the reader as well as each other until the end. The incidental characters are sharply drawn (Tori, Clyde and Tamber especially), Jo’s frantic diary excerpts are a giggle (despite being reproduced in Comic Sans: oh, editors, why do you do such things?), and it’s a thrill to read a fluffy teen romance where the heroine is a sharp-tongued, comic-book-drawing, plus-sized grump.  Frankly, any novel which turns on being able to identify a text message code based on Buffy episode titles cannot fail to charm.

Erm.  I’m having motivation issues, and for once they aren’t even mine.  Too many characters, all going in different directions!  Now I remember why I liked writing in the first person.

Attempting to cure womanflu through the power of early Supernatural alone (Dean Winchester: like paracetamol, in a way); getting overexcited about the election, and then horribly depressed at the prospect of any of the likely outcomes; being Twitterspammed by Gene Hunt.

I have, at long last, achieved my life’s ambition.  (Technically I did that in 2004 by getting published, but if you achieve your life’s ambition and remain inconveniently alive, you have to come up with a new one.  It’s in the rules.)

Those who were around these parts last year will recall the joys of Bake 7 and GingerbRed Dwarf, and the bake-a-boy gallery already bears a respectable showing of Time Lords.  But I have, at last, achieved the pinnacle of sci-fi bakery: ALL ELEVEN DOCTORS, in nommable gingerbread form. Behold!

Click: they're bigger on the inside

And in case you were thinking that wasn’t a very productive way to spend a Sunday, here is my review of this week’s Doctor Who.   Proof positive that biscuits are central to everything.

Gingerbread Who: Victory of the Daleks

I have a feeling this may become a weekly thing.  I’d apologise, but I’m not even a little but sorry.

Oh, and if you should happen to feel inspired by my adventures in food colouring AND like to win lovely things, then you still have a couple of weeks left to enter the FABULOUS BAKE-A-BOY CHALLENGE, and snag yourself a tasty little parcel of books.  Go on, go on, you will, you will…

Am reading China Mieville’s Un Lun Dun, which is like a funny Phantom Tollbooth mixed with Mortal Engines.  There are ninja bins (binjas!), and nice drawings, and two fabulously dry and narky heroines.  Loving it so far.

I’m being so naughty.  I’m plotting a new possible series, the idea of which I am madly in love with, and am supposed to be writing 3 chapters for my agent – which is why this week I randomly started writing a completely different book about superpowered teenagers on a sinister landlocked island who, you know, fight crime, and fall in love in inappropriate directions. I’ve decided it’s going to be my guilty evening pleasure.  Will doubtless never see the light of day, but I miss having something to write which I’ve no intention of publishing: writing purely for my own wonky lols.  (Dear Agent/Editor/Bank Manager: this is all lies, and I never said any of it.)

Failing to go on proper holiday this Easter (which is lucky due to the GIANT ASH CLOUD which can apparently eat planes); discovering microwave popcorn; wondering why anyone in their right mind thought that remaking The Prisoner was a good idea.

Joshua Files launch: Agent Peter Cox, MG Harris and BBC Oxford's Bill Heine

In a change from our regularly scheduled bacon sarnies, this week I got to hear good mate MG Harris nattering about books in a slightly more glam context.  The launch party for the third Joshua Files book, Zero Moment, transformed Oxford Blackwell’s into a riot of excited readers and luminous cake.  MG even dished a big secret about Book 5!  Now, if only I can persuade her to give me her Lime Cheesecake cupcake recipe…

I confess, I snagged an early preview so I read this a while ago – but gosh, Zero Moment really does live up to its limited-edition glowing green cover.  If you’re not up to speed with all things Joshua File-y, I suggest you kidnap the nearest 11-year-old boy and insist he fills you in.  (Then let him go again: it’s only polite.)  Josh leaves Oxford for Mexico once again, with Mum and Tyler along for the trip, but a thrilling buggy ride across the sand ends in disaster.  This time Josh isn’t the one in obvious danger – but while he’s chasing one set of bad guys, there’s another lot closing in.  Throw in some nifty time-travel and a car chase on a winding Swiss mountain pass that will leave you utterly breathless, and you have, undubitably, the best Joshua book yet – and that’s high praise indeed.

The downside of having finished the first draft of The Poppy Project is that this week I had to read it.  Ugh.  AL Kennedy sums up the state of mind beautifully in this weekend’s Guardian: could do better.

Discovering that Wii swordfighting brings out my, um, forceful tendencies; watching so much BSG that I sincerely pondered the potential charm of an invisible blonde giant whispering in Poppy’s ear all through draft number 2; lamenting the de-relaxation properties of cancelled yoga classes.

… but the adults are useless!  This was the view from the author seats of the Kids’ Lit Quiz UK final in Oxford, where we all sadly realised that we might write children’s books, but we’ve forgotten about all the ones we’ve read.  The terrifyingly brainy teams had no such trouble – and for their pains got to hear a sneaky snippet from Charlie Higson’s next Young Bond book, courtesy of his chum Harry Enfield (who then ate it, as befitted a top secret document).  Huge props to Wheatley Park School for taking first place in such a closely-fought contest (and a special hello to Iona, Varshini, Skye and Flora from Mary Erskine in Edinburgh: well done, girls!).

Now to see if I can come up with a sensible reason to be in Edinburgh in August, when the World Final takes place…

  Peter Pan. For Very Important Reasons which will all be revealed.  (Unless I cut that bit out, in which case they won’t, and you’ll be left wondering what on earth I was on about. No change there then.)

  I’m not far off one third of the way through The Hilarious But Untitled Time-Travelling Teenage Adventures of A Girl Who Is Currently Called Poppy, Although That Might Change Too, You Never Can Tell With Time-Travel.  Woo!

Finally working out why this site was down all last week (oops) and plotting a revamp (ooer); becoming worryingly obsessed with Co-Op’s Wensleydale with cranberries; losing all my gym motivation – I think it’s wedged somewhere under my big, warm, cosy bed?