An Ordinary Day…

Posted by anneethompson

Today was a nothing day. It started late, then I persuaded Husband to help me put my Kindle book, Invisible Jane, on the Amazon paperback programme. This was more complicated than expected and involved a lot of maths (measuring mainly). I managed all the typesetting stuff, but making the computer pages the correct size for the printed book was beyond me. We kept looking at the previews – the first one had words disappearing off the edges, the later ones had tiny amounts of texts in a big page, or giant margins. Eventually we managed to upload a pdf that looked, on the computer screen, okay.

I have never tried the kdp service before, so I have no idea what the finished book will be like. They print them to order, retaining enough money to cover costs. The good thing is it costs me nothing (other than time – lots of time) and I will not have hundreds of books in the cupboard under the stairs (they sort of mock me). The downside is I have absolutely no control over the quality, so they might be no better than if I’d made them myself on a photocopier. I also have absolutely no copies myself, unless I buy them. So when I do book fairs, this book won’t be included. I will order a copy and let you know what the quality is like. I am hoping, as I am not the publisher, that this means the annoying libraries that can demand free copies will approach Amazon, not me. And all those discount secondhand shops will be taking business from Amazon, not me.

Alongside the publishing activity (which took most of the day, on and off, because we kept having to wait for things to load before we could check them), we went to Sevenoaks. Sevenoaks has the best cafe – Marcos – and we wanted a nice coffee and croissant. While we were there, we popped into the Vodafone shop. My lovely iphone3 is finally dying (I get texts three days after people send them, and all my apps keep being cancelled because my phone is too naff for the new systems). Husband took the lead, which was good, as I understood very little of what the assistant was telling us. He talked a lot about androgynous phones, and pixies being in the photos – I just smiled along and pretended I understood. We didn’t buy one. Need to check with Son first.

The rest of the day was taken up with walking the dog, cooking dinner (homemade mince with pasta) and sorting the chickens.

As I said, a nothing day. The sort of day, when you are young, that you feel like you could do without; and the sort of day, if you are going through a bad time, that you long for. As you get older, you realise there is something very precious about an ‘ordinary’ day.

Hope you have a week of nice days.

Take care,
Anne x

xxx

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, why not take a look at one of my books? Available as Kindle books (in any country) or paperback, they can be bought from bookshops or Amazon. (I think JOANNA is the best one. But my Mum prefers Hidden Faces. And my sister-in-law likes Counting Stars best. Which one do you prefer?)

PS. I have now received a paperback copy of Invisible Jane. The first attempt had rather odd font – so was like reading a school text book. I had another try, and the next one is really very okay. It isn’t as good quality as the books I have published myself, but it does not feel ‘tacky’ – it is still nice enough that you enjoy reading it. I will write a longer blog at some point, comparing the costs and quality of both methods, but I am actually rather pleased with it.

Also, the sunflower (only one survived) in the corn field is now in bloom. This is very exciting! Yesterday I saw a man stop his car and photograph it. I thought that was lovely – son informed me he is probably an investigator for the farmer, gathering evidence for my court case. If I write the next blog from prison, please send bail. And chocolate.

xxx

anneethompson.com

xxx

Confessions of an Author

Posted by anneethompson

Okay, I have a confession. I am bit of a literary snob. I enjoy reading the classics, or good quality literary fiction, or well written psychological thrillers. What I don’t read is chick lit. If a book has a pink cover, I do not buy it.

However (this is the confession) the first book I ever wrote is – chick lit. I guess perhaps because my life was overloaded stress when I wrote it, and I couldn’t cope with anything too real, too nasty. So I wrote a ‘nice’ book, an “enjoy it on the beach with an ice-cream” sort of a book, something you might find serialised in your mother’s weekly magazine. A girly story, all about love – with some “snort your tea everywhere” funny bits. Deeply embarrassing.

I wrote it by hand, on the back of bank statements and Ocado receipts, then laboriously typed it onto my computer; and left it there. It was way too embarrassing to show people. Husband read it (he wanted the bank statements and wondered why I had used them as writing paper), and he said it was funny. But he loves me, so I didn’t really trust him.

For several years, the book has sat on my computer. Many times I have looked at it, snorted out my tea at the funny bits, and tried to change it – to make it less ‘girly’. I have tried murdering one of the characters, or introducing a villain, or having aliens land in the garden; but it doesn’t work. It is chick lit, and as chick lit, it works rather well. I (secretly) enjoy reading it. It tells the story of a young mother, with two young children, and it’s a love story. It doesn’t have strong, realistic characters (like my other books) because sometimes a girl wants a tall handsome stranger with a nice smile.

So, several rewrites later, I have decided to publish it as a Kindle book. If you like good quality literary fiction or psychological thrillers, please read something else. I have written better books – or you could give yourself a treat and read something by John Le Carre. Yes, I know we are only supposed to be positive about our work, but I prefer to be honest, and this is so not going to be winning any prizes. It might make you laugh though. It might help you to escape from stress for a few hours. I suggest you read it with an ice cream.

The children in the story are happy, with their future full of choices. The children I saw in the red light district of Mumbai don’t have this luxury, and I cannot forget their faces and stories. So any money I receive from the sale of Invisible Jane will be sent to Tearfund. (Though, I think we are talking about £1.99 per book, so it’s not going to solve the problem, but it might make you feel better about reading a girly book.)

At present, the book is only available as a Kindle book. I am trying to sort out the complicated process of also having available as a paperback. (My other books were ‘properly’ self-published, but as I said, this one is embarrassing.) You can buy it from whichever country you live in, or if you are signed up to the Amazon special deal, it’s free. So, find a beach and an ice cream – and tell people you are reading Dickens…..

Another Proud Mummy Moment

Posted by anneethompson

So, this week we had another graduation ceremony – Son 2 collected his BSc in Natural Sciences – proud Mummy moment.

He had had a busy week leading up to the graduation, so I had to help a bit. (You think, when you have little kids, that one day they won’t need you anymore. I’m not sure quite when that day comes, but my children are all in their twenties, and I still seem to be helping.) His busy week had included a trip to Wimbledon. He left home very early, and travelled to London, to be queuing outside Wimbledon by 8am. Due to nice weather and lots of Brits qualifying, it was already full. He came home again. I’m sure though he was pleased to go, simply to collect his “How to Queue” booklet.

Mind you, tennis has to be one of the most boring games to watch (am not a great lover of sports). It is only slightly better than watching cricket – where all the players look like they have escaped from a flour mill and are standing around trying to decide what to do next.

But I was telling you about the graduation. Due to Son’s busy week, which included staying with his brother the night before, I had to pack for him, finding various items that were scattered around the house. Big responsibility.

We drove north, collecting Son on the way, and stayed overnight in a Premier Inn. I like Premier Inns, but they do not exactly have the biggest bathrooms. This did not however, dissuade Husband from drying out his golfing umbrella in the bath. One day, I will devote a whole blog piece to Husband and his golfing umbrella, which seems to be essential wherever we go. It was hardly raining, and we walked all of 100 yards to the Beefeater for dinner, and some people managed without even a tiny umbrella. Just saying.

The next day was the graduation, and Son was in the first ceremony. They have 22 ceremonies over the next two weeks, and I’m sure the tutors involved in every one just love this time of year. The uni had good systems in place for ushering hundreds of students in one direction and their families in the other. Very efficient. One member of my family doesn’t really ‘do’ other people’s rules, so I kept losing him and spotting him in the ‘students only’ section.

Son looked very tall and handsome in his cap and gown. Unfortunately he hadn’t had time for a hair cut (in the last year), but I only mentioned it a couple of times.

The ceremony was in the uni Sports Hall, which was huge. There was a very loud brass band playing, and nice comfy seats. The hall was donated by Sir David Ross, who was the founder of Carphone Warehouse. There was no phone signal inside.

I felt very proud of son as he walked across the stage to collect his certificate, and very relieved that I had remembered all essential items. I felt very sorry for the poor girl who wore trainers (her Mum must’ve forgotten to pack the shoes). I think a couple of girls also forgot their skirts.

Afterwards, we had refreshments. I must say, Nottingham University does the best post graduation refreshments. I like that bit best : everything important has been done, so everyone has relaxed, the graduates look wonderful swooshing around in their gowns, and you can watch all the other families. There is such a mix of people, from those who are scruffily dressed and look worried, to those who have obviously bought completely new outfits for the occasion, and all sorts of people in between. It represents the huge circle of people able to study for a degree in our country, and I think it’s rather wonderful.

When we came to return Son’s gown, the hire company took it but didn’t record anything or give us a receipt – so there was no proof that it was actually returned. We took a photo of the man instead, in case of problems later. He was somewhat bemused.

Afterwards we went back to Son’s uni house to collect all his stuff for the summer. He was not quite as packed as we’d hoped – but that is another story.

Hope you have a good week.
Love, Anne x

xxx

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this, all my books are now available on Kindle – ideal for taking on holiday. You can buy them in whichever country you live in. Have you read JOANNA yet? (I think that’s my best book so far. The link for UK is below.)

A Family Barge Trip

Posted by anneethompson

We had a family barge trip. I must admit, I was slightly dreading this beforehand – the whole family confined in a single room (albeit a floating one), not great facilities, very little sleep, not much to do….I was anticipating a rerun of some of the camping trips I recall from childhood. However, it was great. Really, it was so much fun.

We picked up the 8-man narrow boat at Trevor, near Llangollen. This entailed a long briefing session, so we knew how to use the boat. Very long. I was assured afterwards that those who had listened could now build their own boat if necessary. The boat was also very long. And very narrow (hence the name). The beds especially were narrow – this is not a good holiday for fat people.

Sailed (do you say ‘sailed’ if there is no sail? Unsure of boating terms here) across a couple of aqueducts. I should tell you, aqueducts are high. Really, really high. And they have absolutely no rail to stop you stepping over the edge. One side is the tow path (with restraining rail), the other side is a 126ft drop, straight down. It would however, be a pretty place to die. (Son 2 ranted for some time about the fact that we insist on peanuts being labelled with a warning:May contain nuts, but there is no rail on the side of the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct).

We also did a couple of tunnels. Tunnels are seriously dark. So dark that, if you are walking through them with an excited german shepherd dog, you cannot see the edge of the tow path and have to hope that she doesn’t pull you into the canal. I expect that some families, when entering a tunnel, shout a warning to other people on the boat who might be reading/in the loo/washing up. Obviously this is not essential though.

Yes, we did take the dog. She slept in my cabin, which she found very exciting. She is a very smelly dog – the air was somewhat intense after the first night. We left her in the boat while we went to find somewhere for dinner. When we left, our boat was the one that was crying. When we got back, we found her standing on husband’s bed watching the ducks out the window.

We also took our 3 adult children, a girlfriend and a boyfriend. If you hire a barge, it’s a good idea to go with people who you know well – there is no escaping the fact that you are going to hear everything that happens in the toilet.

As I said, I loved it. We were away for three nights, which were fairly sleepless (narrow bed, noisy toilets, regular licks on face from excited dog). However, the days were brilliant. I mainly walked along the tow paths – mile upon mile of beautiful scenery, no cars; and no one telling me they were tired and asking how much further I intended to walk. Then, when I was tired, there was my armchair/toilet/cup of tea, right beside me. Brilliant.

The family also had fun and proved to be an adept boat crew. The boyfriend was quickly put in charge of driving (he went through less bushes and hit fewer banks than some of the other people who steered). Daughter proved to be rather good at tugging on ropes, and the blokes seemed to enjoy the whole muscle/active thing. They also played poker – using dog food kibble as chips – which the dog enjoyed.

The only thing we never really mastered was tying the ropes when we moored. We would pass boats with these neat knots, and ours looked like they had been plaited and wound into macrame shapes. (I have an aunt who used to weave macrame plant pot holders – these were not dissimilar.)

We were also not very good at being tidy. Boats are meant to be tidy (it is where the term ‘ship shape’ comes from. Ours was more ‘sh** shape’).

At the end of the few days, I was ready to come home and have a proper shower (as in, one that actually had water coming out of it). But the holiday was so much fun. It was fairly active, but we could have just sat and read if we’d wanted to do nothing. I have already booked a week with my children each year when I am ninety (they can take it in turns to take me). Am also hoping to go again next year – though I might book a B&B for the nights…..

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog?

anneethompson.com

xxxx

Author Update

Posted by anneethompson

I haven’t told you about how the business is going for a while, so here’s a quick update.

After the initial frenzy of selling copies of JOANNA following the launch in March, things became quiet. I was expecting this, but it is still a bit scary when you don’t seem to have sold a book for a very long time. I also began to feel tired. During the first week of June, I finished writing the first draft of Clara Oakes, and started to send it out to agents. Agents always take months to reply, and I was expecting nothing but rejection letters, so I figured I would get it over with, before I started all the rewrites and edits that lead to a published book. Everyone says a book should be left alone for a couple of months after completion of the first draft, so that’s what I’m doing. I will re-read it with fresh eyes in September, change bits, rewrite bits, and then send it to be edited. (I am actually very excited about it – it is the best book I have written I think, though am not sure which genre it fits into, so is possibly impossible to market!)

Agents always say that they receive hundreds of submissions each week. I received my first standard rejection letter within five days. Five days. Am not thinking they actually read very much of each book if they reply that fast. In fact, am suspicious they are not actually accepting any new authors at all, but have failed to update their website. As each submission takes several hours, this is annoying.

I am getting very tired of the selling process. Everything seems stacked against the self-published author. Selling is difficult, it involves self-promotion, being an extrovert, displaying confidence in your writing. I feel like I have had enough of struggling on my own. It is tempting to leave this next book on my computer, or put it straight onto Kindle and not bother with paper copies. Hopefully this is just a slump and I will find some more energy soon. But right now? I’ve had enough. I love writing, I love having something to say, I love entertaining people through my books. But selling? Promoting? Trying to persuade people to buy? Nope, not me.

As I say, so much makes it difficult. I agreed to sell through the big shops, and have a trading agreement with wholesalers. By the time they have all taken their cut, I don’t make any money, but that’s okay, it extends my readership. Except, actually getting the wholesaler to pay at all is a hassle. They send you an email which says : “Dispatch immediately. 3 copies of Hidden Faces have been ordered. Send them by first class post to this address. Include an invoice.”

You rush off to the post office, very excited to have made some sales, then….nothing. After a month, you email to ask about the money. After another month, you email again. Then you phone (or persuade businessman husband to phone on your behalf.) Eventually, after at least 6 months, repeated emails and calls, they pay you. It hardly seems worth the hassle.

Then there is the copyright. As part of copyright law in England, you are obliged to send a copy of everything published to The British Library. This is a legal requirement. There are 5 other libraries which have the legal right to request copies, but I didn’t expect to hear from them. However, recently they emailed, telling me to send 5 copies of each book to an address in Edinburgh. Which is 10 books I won’t be paid for, and about £10 in postage I can’t reclaim. It feels like everything is making life for the new author tough.

There are also the secondhand booksellers. I suspect that all books sent on spec to wholesalers, end up with secondhand book dealers. So do books donated to charity shops. Amazon now lists items in price order, which means anyone who clicks on my books is sent straight to the secondhand copies. So unless they bother to search for new copies, I never receive those orders. Amazon and the secondhand dealer both make money from my writing, but I receive nothing except all the costs.

I will finish here.
Hope your work is going better than mine.
Feeling depressed.

Love, Anne x

PS. I will go and drink some hot lemon. I don’t especially like hot lemon, but there’s something terribly comforting about it – have you noticed?

PPS. This is something of a confession: As I have finished Clara Oakes, I thought I’d have another look at Invisible Jayne, the first book I wrote after my op. Now, the thing is, it is chick-lit. And I do not read, or write, chick-lit. I am something of a literary snob to be honest. So, I have tried murdering some of the characters, or turning it into a discussion of social issues, or adding aliens, but nothing works. As chick-lit, a simple love story with a lot of humour, it works well. Sooo, I am going to rewrite it (I have improved in the last 3 years) and then publish it as a Kindle book. I’m tempted to publish under a different name, but I might not. I have dropped the ‘y’ from the title, and I’m improving the general flow, but mostly it’s okay. It still makes me laugh out loud, so hopefully it will amuse my readers too. I’ll let you know when it’s finished and you can read it on the beach or with your cocoa at bedtime – it is that sort of book. (One of my friends assures me that for all my snobbishness, this will be the book that sells millions. In which case I will have wished I had published under a different name!)

xxx

Have you read JOANNA yet? Available in both paperback and as a Kindle book (so you can buy it from any Amazon shop). The UK link is below – why not buy one for your holiday reading?

A Friend’s Wedding

Posted by anneethompson

We went to a wedding. I haven’t been to a wedding for ages (no one seems to get married anymore) so it was rather lovely. All my children (who aren’t children) came back for the weekend, and off we went.

Getting ready on time is always a challenge. I won’t tell you about the person who washed his shirt an hour before we needed to leave, and then had to try and work out how the iron worked so he could dry it, as it couldn’t go in the tumble dryer. Of course, it’s always much more hassle for females, especially females my age, because dresses that fitted perfectly well a short time ago have all shrunk while hanging in the wardrobe. I tried on a variety, with daughter giving me feedback (so glad I have a daughter – she lent me a fascinator too, not that it tended to stay in place).

We arrived on time. The church was quite full, so we ended up behind a pillar, which had limited visibility, but we could see enough. I was slightly surprised that an older woman had chosen to wear a long white dress; which didn’t seem very tactful for a wedding. When I put my glasses on I realised it was the vicar.

The service was lovely. There we were, in an ancient church, listening to two people promise that they would join their lives together. This was no casual “let’s see how it goes and then decide” arrangement, this was two people trusting each other enough to be prepared to actually make a commitment. The fact that they also wanted to include God and so held the ceremony in a church made it that little bit more special.

We then dodged gravestones while trying to watch the photos being taken. I found this particularly challenging as I wobbled on unaccustomed heels over bumpy graves, whilst forgetting that my hat was wider than my shoulders, so I kept bumping in to people. I needed a “danger, wide load” sign. There were six bridesmaids, and my niece was the best one. (Not that I’m biased or anything). It was all terribly pretty, the bride looked like a mermaid princess in a fish-tailed white dress with waves of blonde hair. The flowers were white and lilac, and the button-holes were wild flowers tied with twine, which was rather pretty.

We weren’t invited to the main reception (despite being the aunt of the best bridesmaid) so we went home for the afternoon. One of my ducks hatched seven ducklings, so I spent a happy hour chasing ducks around and getting covered in poo. The big ducklings were terribly interested, and spent the rest of the day peering at the new arrivals (they were in a separate cage within the main aviary).

It then felt very strange putting all our posh stuff back on, removing poop and straw from our hair (well, only my hair actually) and going back for the evening reception. There were many discussions as to whether the evening reception would be casual and therefore jeans would be appropriate, but we manage to persuade him back into a suit.

The evening was fun. There was a band, and we all like to dance. I was especially impressed that both my sons can dance whilst holding a glass of beer (I knew it was worth paying for private education). We have fun together when we’re out. My children are all friends – which is by chance, not due to my excellent parenting, but it does make occasions like that fun. When they were small they were always a gang, and it was very hard for me to force them to accept that I was the leader of the gang. But now they’re grown up, we just have fun.

I hope you have some happy times too this week. One evening I’m going to the summer exhibition at The Royal Academy of Art, so if it’s good I’ll tell you about it next week.

Thanks for reading.
Take care,
Anne x

xxx
If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog?

xxx
All my books are now available on Kindle, so you can buy them from Amazon in whichever country you live. You can read them on a Kindle, or download a free app and read them on a tablet.

Hidden Faces by Anne E Thompson
JOANNA by Anne E Thompson
Counting Stars by Anne E Thompson

PS. My tomato seedlings are mostly doing well. The ones in the seed tray are a bit flattened though….

Scary Hen

Posted by anneethompson

Hello, how was your week?

I am feeling somewhat ruffled. Let me explain. A few weeks ago, a fox came into the garden and ate a cockerel and my favourite big black hen. Hard to not hate foxes (though actually, even I am appalled that there is a suggestion we might legalise fox-hunting again – but that is a different issue).

Anyway, at about the same time as the above massacre, one of my other hens started to get broody, to collect the eggs the other hens laid as soon as they left the laying box, and to refuse to budge. I collected the eggs every day (because most of them were bantam eggs, and I don’t want more bantams) but she was very fierce. Have you ever encountered a cross hen? They fan out their tails, and fluff up their wings, and when you come within striking distance, they zoom in and peck you. Very hard. Enough to form a red blood blister, even through gloves. Scary.

Also (if that isn’t bad enough) one broody hen tends to remind the other hens that they too want to be mothers, so they all stop laying and you have no eggs, whilst still having to pay a fortune for their food and cleaning up stinky poop each day.

So, I decided I would move said broody hen into the duck aviary (as I think I mentioned in a previous blog) and give her the eggs I still had, from the lovely big black hen which had been eaten. Good plan. Except, that was several weeks ago, and chicks take 3 weeks to hatch. Exactly 3 weeks. So something was wrong. Scary hen was still firmly on her nest, but there was no sign, whatsoever, of hatchlings.

So this morning, I decided I needed to act. I donned my protective Marigold gloves and a thick coat, and went to discuss the issue with the hen. She was not impressed and still refused to let me investigate. I left her for a few minutes, while I fed the ducks, and noticed that, because she thought I had left, she was no longer sitting on her nest. I dashed back and managed to corner her. Catching her was loud and violent (towards me, she was completely unharmed if somewhat cross). I was cheered on by the cat, who was watching on top of the cage and at one point reached through and patted the top of my head for encouragement. The dog was less helpful, as she chased around the cage barking, which did nothing to calm the situation. All the chickens in the other cage squawked their disapproval, and I had a row of ducks on the bank who were trying to watch.

Managed to catch her, only one deep wound (now covered with a Mr Happy plaster) and she was carried, still trying to peck any available flesh, back into the chicken coop. I checked her nest. There were bits of shell, and one remaining egg, which was cold. I think she must have eaten the others.

I like having chickens, but only when they are free. I love being in the garden when a flock of birds wanders through it, I like that they come to watch me garden, will investigate anything new, and spend hours digging through the compost heap. I do not like animals in cages. Until the foxes stop being randy and doing daredevil raids past the dog into the garden, the chickens have to stay in their cage. Am not enjoying this at all. Ducks are so much nicer.

Hope your day goes better than mine has so far. Time for my morning coffee now. Thanks for reading.

Take care,
Anne

If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog?

anneethompson.com

xxx

I am pleased to announce that JOANNA is finally available as a Kindle book. If you search for JOANNA by Anne E Thompson in whichever country you live in, it should be available. The UK link is below:

Bees, Builders and Babies……

Posted by anneethompson

Hi, how was your week?
Now, could you let these babies die? I decided that I could. The mother duck had nested in a particularly hard place to get to, she is not an especially pretty duck, and I have 3 other nests being sat on – I don’t need more ducks. I decided I would, absolutely, let them take their chances. If the mother couldn’t protect them, I would not interfere. Definitely. Except, of course, when I found 3 abandoned ducklings left in the nest, and 2 more frantic on the pond looking for their mother, and another 2 desperately trying to keep up with her as she climbed over tree stumps while the crows circled and the cats moved closer…..well, it was hard to not get involved…. After crawling through hedges and brambles and wading through muddy water, I need a cup of tea. Fraught mother is safely in a cage with 7 ugly ducklings. The mother is completely ungrateful, and makes a sort of hissing noise through her nose whenever I go near. But she is looking after them now, which is a relief as I don’t have to bother with heat lamps.

The bees have decided to nest in the cavity wall, right next to a door. They are surprisingly scary when you want to use the door. They go and in and out of an air-brick, which leads to a grill into the larder (keeps the food cold). My understanding is that we are not meant to kill bees (despite their scariness) and so we are trying to persuade them to move house. I have been playing music to them, via the grill in the larder (Radio Kent, at full full volume – it would make me want to move out). Dog unimpressed. Bees refusing to move.

Not sure if you can see fuzzy bees waiting outside for queen to emerge.

As I write this, we also have builders here. Can life get more fun? They arrived at 7:50 this morning, van loads of them. They’re building some shelves, replacing a shower screen and tiles, and putting in an extractor fan – I was expecting one bloke (husband organised this, not me – I was completely happy with a slightly dangerous shower door and having to open a window afterwards.) They are now everywhere, they emerge from unexpected places. And leave doors open. All of them. Why is it necessary for the front door to be wide open at all times, even while they’re in the loft, and the bathroom, and bringing mugs back to the kitchen, and eating sandwiches in the garden. The only one who seems to be enjoying them is the dog (so I suspect she may have shared the sandwiches). To be fair, they are doing their best. It is not, I suppose, possible to drill and saw quietly. They also put down dust sheets to protect the carpet when they arrived (though I have a sneaky suspicion that when they leave I will have all the dust from the previous jobs on my carpets – they do not look like they get put in the washing machine overly often.) I do hope they finish soon and aren’t here for days on end. Otherwise I too might start hissing through my nose….

Hope you have a good week.
Take care,
Anne x

xxxx

If we can’t see you, you don’t exist.

Thank you for reading. Is it too soon to buy something new to read on holiday?

JOANNA, available from bookshops and Amazon .

There seem to be sunflowers growing in the corn field…..!

xxx

Letters to an Agent….

Posted by anneethompson

I was pleased with Hidden Faces as a book. It is a ‘gentle’ story, one to make the reader smile, with characters they would recognise. A book you could give to your aunty. JOANNA however is different. It is grittier, faster paced, and delves into how people react in very extreme situations. It will, I hope, have much wider appeal. So I would like a publisher to take it on. Which means I need an agent to approach one for me (because in the UK, mere writers are unable to speak to publishers, they will only work through an agent). So, I sent my manuscript to a few agents. Not many, because I am fairly fussy still, and if I only ever sell the books I have published myself, it doesn’t really matter.

In October 2016, I posted (yes, posted – they don’t take emailed submissions) my manuscript to David Higham Associates. They are the agents for The Girl on the Train, which is a book very similar in style to JOANNA. So I thought they might be willing to represent me. I read all their submission requirements and sent (by post) everything they required. Which was both costly and a hassle. As they had stipulated that I should include a stamped addressed envelope, I fully expected a reply. Even a standard, thanks but no thanks, reply. But no, nothing. Is this agency running a scam to obtain free postage from desperate authors? These are the actual emails I subsequently sent.

January 2017
Dear David Higham Associates,

I posted a submission to you, as per your instructions, in October 2016. As this included a stamped addressed envelope, and I have not yet heard from you, I wondered if perhaps the manuscript had become separate from the postage (which you said sometimes happens.)

My submission is a thriller, entitled JOANNA, by Anne E Thompson.

Please could you check and let me know if this is still under consideration, or when I might expect to hear from you.

Thank you for your help.

Yours faithfully,
Anne Todd
#

February 2017
Dear David Higham Associates,

I posted a submission for your consideration in October 2016. A novel called JOANNA – the story of a psychopath, by Anne E Thompson. It was written after extensive research on the condition of psychopathy, involving in-depth reading of books and papers by neuroscientists. I interviewed both psychopaths and their families, and spent many hours listening to convicted serial killers. I now consider myself something of an expert on psychopathy. I wrote the novel in the first person, giving the reader insight into how a psychopath views the world. I also showed how her family felt, what it is like to love a psychopath and how one copes with the aftermath of their actions. It is an easy read work of contemporary fiction.

As I said, I now consider myself to be something of an expert. In fact, I was interviewed this week by a journalist from the local newspaper, and have been asked if I would be able to speak on both Meridian Fm and BBC Radio Surrey. People are very interested in psychopaths – and I hope JOANNA will be a popular novel. Which brings me to my reason for emailing. When I submitted my manuscript, I included a stamped addressed envelope, as per your instructions. I assumed this meant you would be posting, at the very least, a standard reply. But alas, no such letter has been forthcoming. I am hoping that by now you have managed to read my submission, have loved it, and are in the process of making an offer to represent me. I am assuming this meant you were too busy to reply to my email of January 2017. I trust therefore, that I will soon receive my letter, in the envelope provided.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely,
Anne Todd
#

1st March 2017
Dear David Higham Associate,

Every day when the post arrives, I rush to inspect the envelopes, which lie in a muddle of dirty shoes and discarded socks (I have sons). I am searching for a slim white envelope. The white envelope which I stamped and addressed myself, one day way back in October. Actually, I know the exact date – I posted it to you on 26th October 2016 – but I’m trying to appear casual. I sent it with the first few pages of JOANNA, which were double spaced as requested, a synopsis of the novel (which is very similar in style to The Girl on the Train) a CV, and a covering letter. You see, I had read your instructions very carefully, I am that kind of person. Thorough.

However, every day I search to no avail. Your reply has not arrived. I have since sent you a few emails, hoping to jog your memory, to perhaps spur you into action. But no, it seems I am destined to remain ignored. Not even a standard letter has been forthcoming. I admit, I am no longer expecting a response from you, and my reason for writing is to ask for your permission to use these emails on my blog. They illustrate so wonderfully the sort of things – or rather, lack of things – that a new author can expect when struggling to find their way into the world of publishing. Given your inability to reply thus far, I will assume that unless I hear otherwise, I have your full permission to use my emails to you, on my blog, and in other areas of social media. I will publish them, probably at the end of March.

March will be a good time to publish them, as it will coincide rather nicely with the launch of JOANNA. Whilst waiting for you to not reply, I have not been idle. My manuscript has been edited, and was then passed to a typesetter, who prepared a file for the printer. I commissioned a talented young photographer to produce a cover (see below) and now have a book. It will appear in bookshops shortly, and these emails can become part of my advertising on social media. Should you have a change of heart, I would still love to hear from you. I very much hope that people will enjoy JOANNA, and that my sales figures will rise accordingly. As I discovered with my previous books, the supplying of books to shops is time-consuming. I am currently writing my next book, and if you felt able to represent me, to find a mainstream publisher who could reprint JOANNA and make it available to a wider audience, that would be wonderful.

I have of course, pondered on the reasons for your lack of reply. Possibly, you lost the envelope. More likely, you have sufficient clients already, and simply ignore all new submissions. There is also the slim possibility that you are running a postal scam. My research for JOANNA has involved many hours studying the behaviour of psychopaths. To manipulate vulnerable people (new authors) into certain actions (sending you stamps) for your own gain (selling said postage for a profit) would of course, fit the psychopathic profile rather well. However, if I’m honest, the thought of David Higham being a mere front for a little man in an office steaming stamps from the front of envelopes, seems unlikely. I will therefore assume you are simply too busy to reply.

It has been lovely chatting with you.

Yours, ever hopeful for a reply,

Anne

PS. I attach the planned cover of JOANNA, to help you to consider the possibilities awaiting.

xxxxx

The agent has missed out on JOANNA, but you don’t have to!

xxx

Going to Seed at the Chelsea Flower Show

Posted by anneethompson

Husband works with the husband of someone who organises the Chelsea Flower Show, who kindly gave us tickets. Very exciting! I have always wanted to go, the weather was perfect, so off we set. Some worry over the dress code – looked at Google images and everyone seemed smart, so we decided jeans were probs not the thing to wear. (Actually, it wouldn’t have mattered, there were a whole range of outfits.)

The tube station was shut, so we walked from Victoria station. I wondered if there’d be loads of security, as the Manchester bombing was so recent, but it was fairly low key, and certainly didn’t spoil anything. Nor did we get attacked (which would have spoiled it more).

The show was good – but not what I was expecting. I have seen telly programmes about some of the gardens, and I thought we would walk past about 40 little gardens, all with different themes. There were actually very few. Not sure if this is because we didn’t pay £10 for a map, and so we missed them, or if there are only about 10 gardens each year. The event is sponsored by M&G Investments, and their garden won (which I thought was rather funny!)

The main impression is clever. The gardening is very very clever. Each one looks as if it has been established for several years, with mature trees, wild flowers growing between paving stones, everything carefully planned. There are also lots of people. Millions of them. It’s hard to get photos of the gardens without several stray arms and ears in the frame. After a while, I stopped photographing flowers and started to photograph the people. I could make up whole stories for some of them. Most women wore flowers: flowery skirts, flowers in hats, flowers attached to hair combs. If you stood still and listened, there was a whole symphony of sneezing.

We didn’t see many gardens, but we did see lots of stands selling interesting garden related stuff. If you like garden centres, Chelsea Flower Show will be paradise for you. Husband got rather side tracked and somehow managed to buy a shed when I wasn’t looking. He kept wandering off and talking to people – there were lots of people to talk to, guides who could tell you about the gardens or direct you to the pimms stall.

I liked the inside arrangements. We found the dahlia stand (my Dad grew dahlias) and they were all perfect. We found a display of potatoes, and a stand with carnivore plants. All the flowers were straight stemmed, fresh blooms, bright colours. Not a nibbled leaf in sight.

It was all very clever. But it wasn’t very real. I guess people don’t want to pay to see real English gardens. Next year, Husband is going to pay (£8,000) for a stand (apparently). He is going to represent a real garden – with weeds and slugs and flowers that are a bit squashed. He will sit in the middle in a deckchair with a handkerchief on his head. Perhaps I will incorporate a dead bag of decapitated birds to complete the image. We’ll call it “Gone to Seed”. Do look out for us if you visit….

Okay, brace yourself for a few fuzzy photos taken on ancient phone:

This is my favourite garden.