A van full of dragons

Dropped Tom off at Tretio and he headed off to rowing. Took the dragons and the dogs to Abereiddi. The Blue Lagoon was deep prussian green and the cliffs gold. While I was away the dragons played and got up to mischief in the van.

 

Back home, after dropping Hannah at work I settled to paint a sleeping cat curl and inched further into my next book.

 

Reviews

I have been very lucky to have been reviewed by many national and international reviewers and never take getting reviews for granted. Now that so many people can review books on sites like Amazon I am cautious of looking. I think people forget that they are reviewing work that is done by other people and writers have feelings too. And sometimes you need to have thick skin.

It is a fact that many people, and I am one, only remember the bad reviews.

Today press cuttings arrived from my publisher including a review in Books For Keeps. If I had been packing these up in the office I think I would have removed this one. I read it. I thought about it, and here is my response. But first, the review, or a part of it . Two thirds of the review is taken up with an abridgement of the storyline as the reviewer interprets it.

" While the illustrations are lovely, the reader may struggle at times to follow the narrative and make sense of it. Clearer textual connections would help draw us in, especially at the beginning. The language is at times lyrical, at times stilted and the text is quite small on the full colour double page spreads- a larger font would add visual appeal. A slightly disappointing read given the dramatic illustrations."

I have thick skin, like a dragon. Just as well.

I could do a short review of the review and suggest that paraphrasing the story is not the best use of space, and neither is reviewing a book that you do not like. It is a little pointless. Also the balance of type and image is carefully thought through and this being a story for older people the text did not have to be large. ( Obviously I also have a soft underbelly like a dragon.)

On the otherhand in Carousel Magazine a short review says,

" This book is written, illustrated and published with loving care. Set in the polar regions of the Arctic the story is magical; easily understood text and stunning illustrations merge to carry a powerful message that we must care that our actions do not endanger the lives of wild creatures."

Two reviewers, one book. 

You cannot please all of the people all of the time.

I sometimes review books on Amazon, if they are something that I have loved and wish to share my passion for. I sometimes review for magazines. And I never ever give a book a bad review because I know, even if I do not like a book, the passion with which each and every author and illustrator works.

Plans for 2011

No matter how hard I cup my hands time slips through my fingers.

Yesterday, when I should have been painting I travelled to Australia and back. I am reading Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan. This is my second attempt to read it. It was first recommended to me by Meg Rosoff as a book that I would love. She said if I did not she would eat her hat so I begged a copy from David Fickling Books with a promise to review it. And I did love the way it was written, but somehow became tangled in the pages and the book sort of spit me out. I couldn't settle to it and found it too disturbing. And then I put it aside and moved on. 

Tender Morsels haunted me for a while, and also the fate of Meg's hat. Should I make her a cake shaped like a hat, I thought? Lucky for Meg Marilyn Brocklehurst came to her rescue. When I told her that I could not get on with Tender Morsels she looked at me as if I were quite mad, one of those ' oh for goodness sake' looks and thrust another copy of the book into my hands. In a kind of gently threatening way she said 'read it'.

Now I find that I am lost in the pages in the right way, burning the candle at both ends of the day, immersed in the beautiful language and strange structure of this outstanding piece of fiction that rumbles with echoes of Angela Carter. Brilliant. It is strange how sometimes we are haunted by books and sometimes we cannot settle to read and the fault is often with us rather than the book and somehow it hunts us down and chases us into a corner and demands TO BE READ.

I'm sure Meg's hats will be breathing a sigh of relief and crawling from dark places in her house sure and certain that they will not be consumed.

So, in a moment of work avoidance off I wandered to Margo's Blog. Now I am excited, for this year she is publishing a Selkie novel!

One of her posts talked of the work she has on this year. That pulled me up sharp to thinking, so, here goes:

 1. The Cat and the Fiddle, finished and to be published in Autumn this year.

2. I am Cat to illustrate.

3. East of the Sun, West of the Moon to work on small decorations and a few double spreads.

4. A secret project of great delight and difference for someone or something wonderful.

5. Little Dragon Small and the Search for Story- rough drawings to gather.

6. A gathering of words for new short novel, set in Venice.

7. Art in Action in July at Waterperry Gardens.

8. Various school visits, to Hertfordshire, Paris, Lake District and Norfolk ( must remember to say NO to any more)

9. Odd paintings here and there for the pleasure of pushing coloured water around paper.

10. This years MBF card. Every year it gets harder to come up with something that works in what has become a series. Maybe this year they will re publish some of the old designs as a selection pack. Also may be working on notecards for them. Maybe more mug designs.

11. Update website, change front page, work on books pages etc etc......

And if that is not enough to keep me busy then I may find time to run away and join the circus.

I am Cat

Trying to paint a dreaming catcurl.

How delighted can one woman be with a van?

Parked in dappled light outside the Norfolk Children's Book Centre.

Very!

June Tabor : The King Of Rome

I love June Tabor. She is the Queen of Music. Such heart and soul. And this is my favorite and never fails to make me cry.

A catalyst for slovenly behaviour

My grandmother said, " Them that reads has dirty 'ouses." She said this in a rich Black Country accent. She married a man from the same street, lived and died within a mile radius from where she was born and the furthest she travelled was Blackpool on a charabanc. She made chain and nails in a workshop at the bottom of her garden.

If she saw me reading a book as a child she would clack and clatter her false teeth at me with disapproval.

What she would make of my writing such catalysts for dirty homes I cannot say.

My grandfather, who died before I can remember, was a collier. He liked beer and smoked Woodbines. He would sit in the chicken house of an evening and talk to the chickens and feed them small cakes. In the winter he would bring them in to warm by the range with its blackened hearth. I think I would have liked him.

My uncle was a foundry man. He worked with cast iron, making covers for drains and manholes at Dudley and Dowells. He said that there were monuments to his work all over Britain, and there are. There is one at Ninewells in Pembrokeshire. At the end of his working day his hands would be lined like a drawing with coal dust. Sadly his lungs were too. He would bathe in a tin bath in front of the fire while we read or talked in the 'best room' next door. When he was young he kept pigeons in a pigeon loft. A great giant of a man with these gentle cooing creatures. He loved everything I did and would have been so proud.

Frances Lincoln are taking East of the Sun and West of the Moon onto their list for publication in Spring 2013.
In my case my grandmother was right. I read, I have a dirty house, but my mind is too full and lively for the dust to settle.

A small deluge.

Last night,peaceful wanderings around the village with my healing bowl. Across the fields a forlorn fox sang a duet with the deep resonance of the bowl's song. The darkness had texture, brought on by close cloud. All around a quiet calm.

Just off to bed and a sound like waterfalls outside. Rain? Rain on one side of the door only. Then rain in the house and panic as I realised the water tank was overflowing!

I was rescued by my neighbours who turned off the water at the stopcock and then found the switch for the tank and while the ceiling drip dripped my heart began to slow down and calm return.

This morning I texted Graham, the plumber and he came and made all well again with a new ballcock and a new stopcock and a fix to a joint in the tank that had leaked into the house. Brilliant.

Graham also pots and paints and his beautiful bowls are available through Cole & Co.

Print outs arrived from Frances Lincoln and now my head is unsteady and too full with text and design and page orders and waiting to hear if East of the Sun will get a definite go ahead. So hard to find that still point required to work. Caught up in the past with The Cat and The Fiddle finishing and moving on to I am Cat.

 

Roughs for East of the Sun

Things to do.

East of the Sun and West of the Moon- editing and illustrating and designing.
I am Cat- illustrating.
Cutting powerpoint discs and making new ppt for trip to Herts.
Posting prints to various destinations.
Posting dvd back to patient people.
Trying to arrange book launch for The Cat and the Fiddle with Marilyn Brocklehurst and Norfolk Children's Book Group for Sept and visit to Lake District, both in autumn.
Tidying studio and the room of chaos.
Thinking about whether to or whether not to, and what and which.