Newsletter twenty
Nov. 12th, 2010 12:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charlie_cochraneWinter is here and I feel like curling up in Cochrane Towers with a bottle of Advocaat and a copy of Rugby World. That would get me out of doing any Christmas shopping…
News:
The big news is having a release date for All Lessons Learned (Cambridge Fellows book eight) – February 2011. I realise the title is sending some people into a panic, but I’m working on book nine so this isn’t as final as it sounds.
Also imminent is the release of All That Jazz as a stand alone e-book novella from MLR press. This is one of my modern day stories: Francis Yardley is the high kicking star of an all-male version of Chicago who thinks that the chance for true love has passed him by. A handsome, shy rugby player called Tommy proves that there's still a chance for happiness 'nowadays'.
Alex Beecroft and I are list mums today at Samhain Café from 3 to 7 pm ET, which is 8pm to midnight in pounds, shillings and pence. Do come along and induce Jonty into being indiscreet (it takes very little).
Don’t forget to drop in here on Monday 15th for the Cambridge lads’ anniversary ficlet, of which this is a snippet:
Cambridge, 1909
Jonty wandered along the Madingley Road, breathing in the scents of wet leaves, bonfires and early November. He loved the autumn; season of mists and mellow fruitfulness indeed, the trees a patchwork quilt of warm colours and the sky piercingly blue.
“Like your eyes.” Orlando always swore the sky was only ever this colour in spring or autumn, some prosaic combination of the angle of the sun’s rays and the dust in the earth’s atmosphere producing a shade that was so beautiful it could almost bring a man to tears.
Jonty would never settle, of course, for the commonplace facts about light refracting off motes of dust. The bright banner from horizon to horizon was God’s gift, and he’d blessed this time of year royally. Late autumn would always be special for them, anyway—time of that fatal first meeting over a particular chair. How could they not cherish November and all the memories it held?
Now their fourth anniversary was looming large, hull up on the horizon and not a present bought. Not by Jonty, anyway—no doubt ‘himself’ had been down to the sweet shop and found some fabulous confection, or been more commonplace and raided the tailors for a well-cut tie, either or both to be wrapped in tissue and ribbon and left on Jonty’s desk. Their reciprocal had been thought about but wasn’t yet in evidence. What to buy the man who seemed to have all he wanted?
Review:
I was delighted to see Lessons in Love featured in the November reviews at the Historical Novel Society
“…sparkling, intelligent series, not to be missed.”
Inspiration:
I do not live by rugby players and cetaceans lone. I find stimulation in all sorts of things, including the glories of our local church flower festival:
Just lovely.
News:
The big news is having a release date for All Lessons Learned (Cambridge Fellows book eight) – February 2011. I realise the title is sending some people into a panic, but I’m working on book nine so this isn’t as final as it sounds.
Also imminent is the release of All That Jazz as a stand alone e-book novella from MLR press. This is one of my modern day stories: Francis Yardley is the high kicking star of an all-male version of Chicago who thinks that the chance for true love has passed him by. A handsome, shy rugby player called Tommy proves that there's still a chance for happiness 'nowadays'.
Alex Beecroft and I are list mums today at Samhain Café from 3 to 7 pm ET, which is 8pm to midnight in pounds, shillings and pence. Do come along and induce Jonty into being indiscreet (it takes very little).
Don’t forget to drop in here on Monday 15th for the Cambridge lads’ anniversary ficlet, of which this is a snippet:
Cambridge, 1909
Jonty wandered along the Madingley Road, breathing in the scents of wet leaves, bonfires and early November. He loved the autumn; season of mists and mellow fruitfulness indeed, the trees a patchwork quilt of warm colours and the sky piercingly blue.
“Like your eyes.” Orlando always swore the sky was only ever this colour in spring or autumn, some prosaic combination of the angle of the sun’s rays and the dust in the earth’s atmosphere producing a shade that was so beautiful it could almost bring a man to tears.
Jonty would never settle, of course, for the commonplace facts about light refracting off motes of dust. The bright banner from horizon to horizon was God’s gift, and he’d blessed this time of year royally. Late autumn would always be special for them, anyway—time of that fatal first meeting over a particular chair. How could they not cherish November and all the memories it held?
Now their fourth anniversary was looming large, hull up on the horizon and not a present bought. Not by Jonty, anyway—no doubt ‘himself’ had been down to the sweet shop and found some fabulous confection, or been more commonplace and raided the tailors for a well-cut tie, either or both to be wrapped in tissue and ribbon and left on Jonty’s desk. Their reciprocal had been thought about but wasn’t yet in evidence. What to buy the man who seemed to have all he wanted?
Review:
I was delighted to see Lessons in Love featured in the November reviews at the Historical Novel Society
“…sparkling, intelligent series, not to be missed.”
Inspiration:
I do not live by rugby players and cetaceans lone. I find stimulation in all sorts of things, including the glories of our local church flower festival:
Just lovely.
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(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-12 11:31 pm (UTC)Trouble is, when i started it, I thought it would be. Didn't know the little swines would keep nagging me...
(no subject)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-13 12:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-13 04:20 pm (UTC)