January 25th
The Conversion of St Paul.
Also the 250th anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns.
There you are. I wondered where you were.
I apologize for neglecting this diary but I have had my head down writing my new Angel book, and trying to avoid the responsibilities of husband, householder and citizen of the world. It was all going terribly well until I estimated that I was going to overrun by around 40/45 pages. Now that’s a lot. I couldn’t expect the publisher to find room for that much excess, so I’ve had to adjust the plot slightly and make some changes; it will necessitate some re-writing. The whole thing will set me back about a month. It’ll make a better book out of it (else I wouldn’t do it). There will be fewer characters and that will streamline the story and make it easier (that is quicker) to read.
It’s quite a scary tale about a serial murderer who seems to know what is happening and therefore must be very close to Angel and the team. Its tentative title is MURDER BY NUMBERS, but that might change.
Hey! Yesterday I was conned by the queen. She knows I won’t go into shops during the lunatic period some people call ‘The Sales,’ when sweet reasonableness, good taste and commonsense fly out of the window and idiocy and greed take over. She asked me at very short notice to take her to Cortonwood. It’s a retail shopping centre about twenty minutes away. You know I can never say no to her. She always gets her own way. She was so excited. Anybody would think I was taking her to see Karen Mathews being banged up. She wanted some blouses of a certain size, colour, design and fastening, but they were not to be had. It gave me the opportunity to browse round a book shop. It was great. I found some old reference books about crime that I was eager to have, also I bought RAVEN BLACK by Ann Cleeves I had wanted (I met her at a Crime Writers’ Association dinner, she’s a prize winning writer and a very nice woman) and THE SUSPICIONS OF MR WHICHER by Kate Summerscale which I had also been told was great. I don’t have a lot of time to read, but I like to have something on hand when sitting around in doctor’s surgeries, hospitals and waiting rooms at railway stations (and in bathrooms!).
By the way ...
Have you noticed how difficult it is to get hold of a really nice sponge? Well you have to buy artificial because, I am told, the natural ones are shapeless and soon fall apart. Artificial ones are made from plastic foam I believe. You would think the ingenuity of man would be able to devise a simple sponge.
I have had four rubbishy ones over the past 12 months. Even the best of them had to be washed and squeezed and massaged to remove all the soap I’d rubbed into them time after time, and they all eventually turn into slimy lumps beyond redemption. I seem to remember as a child having great fun in the bath with a big one. Oh, somebody out there make me a sponge!
If you want to write to me, you can, at <angeldetective@uwclub.net>, and if it’s really interesting, I might publish it here.
By the way, don’t believe all you see on television, the newspapers and on the radio. Journalists, reporters and newsmen have never had it so good. The end of the world is not imminent. Disaster is not about to knock on your door. The world will survive. This chaos in the banking and financial world is all about readjusting the distribution of wealth. The easy days are over. The jackpot, crackpot days of something for nothing are gone. The magic dust has turned into sand. Luck has run out for the incompetent leeches who run businesses, banks*, institutions, large and small, and they will now have to start working for a living. It may be tough for some little people - and I greatly regret that – but for those who will work hard and are worth their wage packet, it will be a lot better in the end, so hang on in there.
I’ll get back to you soon. Take care.
*Banks are businesses just like Woolworths. I don’t believe they should have special treatment at our expense, do you?
January 6th Twelve Night 2009
There you are.
Well it’s all over. Would you believe it? Taken the cards and tree and trimmings down. Hope you had a great time. If you had a party I hope it went with well. If there was just the two of you or you are on your own, hope you managed to keep warm, well and happy.
I bought myself a big posh expensive looking volume called, “Great British Fictional Detectives A – Z”, by Russell James. Published January 1st. It’s supposed to be the latest authority on the subject. Well, you’ve got to keep up to date with what’s going on. Of course it’s full of big wheels like Sherlock Holmes, Poirot, Morse and so on. You would expect that. But it also included Maigret, Columbo and some others, who are not British, which surprised me greatly, considering the title of the book. Anyway, I wanted to see what they had written about Angel. I was pleasantly surprised. I reproduce the entry below …
MICHAEL ANGEL
by Roger Silverwood
DI Angel is a serious, hard working copper from South Yorkshire, who thinks for himself and does his own thing while relying nevertheless on his team of four close colleagues. Off duty, he loves his wife, his cats and murder – but the only time he ever smiles is when a murderer gets Life. The series is set in the present day, in real time, with Angel currently in his mid–forties.
In The Midst of Life (2001), Choker (2002), The Man in the Pink Suit (2003), The Importance of Being Honest (2003) Mantrap (2004), Salamander (2005) Sham (2006) The Umbrella Man (2005), The Man Who Couldn’t Lose (2007), The Curious Mind of Inspector Angel (2007), Find The Lady (2008), Wigmaker (2008), Murder in Bare Feet (2008).
… Don’t you think they did him proud? I was tolerably well suited. It summed Angel up very well, I thought. I found the book most interesting … included a few writer friends I know or have met.
Did you know that it’s illegal to take chewing-gum into Singapore? Perfectly true.
Importing or distributing chewing gum is a crime punishable by a fine or up to one year in prison.
I found that out the other day when I was reading a legal book, researching a smuggling story I am thinking of writing. Personally I don’t use chewing gum. I only mention it because it just sounded so ridiculous.
It is very cold today, but cheer up, the forecasters say it’ll be warmer tomorrow and at the weekend.
Thanks for looking in. I’ll get back to you soon.
There you are.
Well it’s all over. Would you believe it? Taken the cards and tree and trimmings down. Hope you had a great time. If you had a party I hope it went with well. If there was just the two of you or you are on your own, hope you managed to keep warm, well and happy.
I bought myself a big posh expensive looking volume called, “Great British Fictional Detectives A – Z”, by Russell James. Published January 1st. It’s supposed to be the latest authority on the subject. Well, you’ve got to keep up to date with what’s going on. Of course it’s full of big wheels like Sherlock Holmes, Poirot, Morse and so on. You would expect that. But it also included Maigret, Columbo and some others, who are not British, which surprised me greatly, considering the title of the book. Anyway, I wanted to see what they had written about Angel. I was pleasantly surprised. I reproduce the entry below …
MICHAEL ANGEL
by Roger Silverwood
DI Angel is a serious, hard working copper from South Yorkshire, who thinks for himself and does his own thing while relying nevertheless on his team of four close colleagues. Off duty, he loves his wife, his cats and murder – but the only time he ever smiles is when a murderer gets Life. The series is set in the present day, in real time, with Angel currently in his mid–forties.
In The Midst of Life (2001), Choker (2002), The Man in the Pink Suit (2003), The Importance of Being Honest (2003) Mantrap (2004), Salamander (2005) Sham (2006) The Umbrella Man (2005), The Man Who Couldn’t Lose (2007), The Curious Mind of Inspector Angel (2007), Find The Lady (2008), Wigmaker (2008), Murder in Bare Feet (2008).
… Don’t you think they did him proud? I was tolerably well suited. It summed Angel up very well, I thought. I found the book most interesting … included a few writer friends I know or have met.
Did you know that it’s illegal to take chewing-gum into Singapore? Perfectly true.
Importing or distributing chewing gum is a crime punishable by a fine or up to one year in prison.
I found that out the other day when I was reading a legal book, researching a smuggling story I am thinking of writing. Personally I don’t use chewing gum. I only mention it because it just sounded so ridiculous.
It is very cold today, but cheer up, the forecasters say it’ll be warmer tomorrow and at the weekend.
Thanks for looking in. I’ll get back to you soon.
December 26th Boxing Day 2008
It’s all over. Christmas Day came and went as fast as a publisher’s royalty cheque.
After midnight communion (where I developed a sore throat, the result of a determination to sing all eight carols whether the woman in front of me liked it or not), the queen and I got to bed at about one forty-five Christmas day morning. I was so excited I didn’t drop off until about three, but woke up with a slight headache and a dry throat around seven thirty in the morning, about as happy as Woolworth’s sweetie supplier.
Between several phone calls to and from family and friends, I wrote and wrote my new Angel book. I made good progress. Meanwhile the queen was downstairs preparing a gargantuan meal to be served up at five-thirty.
Christmas dinner was great, but I had a second helping of Christmas pudding, which was the quintessence of Silverwood gluttony and my personal downfall.
We saw a bit of telly in the evening, and a great little film we had recorded called THE MAN WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS. (Shades of FOYLE’S WAR which we enjoy.) Sounds like a kid’s tale, but it was about a toy factory owner in the US, torn between making armaments or toys during World War 1. The only actor we knew was an amusing crusty old shuffler called Edward Asner. I remember he played an amusing crusty young editor in THE MARY TAYLOR MOORE SHOW a hundred years previously. You might remember him.
Yesterday (and today) there were some top-notch films but we’ve seen them all several times before.
Went to bed early to make up for loss of sleep. However I woke up at 3.20 am this morning. Couldn’t get off again. The overindulgence of Christmas pud was part of the reason. I knew I would pay for it. Anyway, it was not all a loss. I used some of the quiet time to write more of my Angel book until just gone five. Then the queen woke up, so I got up and made us a very early breakfast.
The Christmas pud problem was still with me. There was only one thing to do. At seven o’clock, I got washed, shaved and dressed and went out for a four mile walk. Now that might seem no distance at all to you, but it equates to walking from Land’s End to Melbourne and back to me. And it was absolutely desolate. It was like attending my own funeral procession. I only saw four zombies the entire walk. One every mile. And they were in hoodies and walking big ugly dogs. The streets were about as lively as the main street in Tombstone just before Jesse James, Frank James and Doc Holliday were expected to ride in.
I got back home at 10.35 am. The front of my legs hurt something rotten. The queen just laughed at me. I got undressed, came back to bed and wrote more Angel. I got stuck just after 12 noon, so I began to write this.
You know, the queen and I have had a super Christmas and I hope that - whatever your dreams were for this Christmastime - that they all came true.
One small gripe. The media seems to think that Christmas is all about buying, and high street retailers and whether it’s at a 30%, 50% or 75% discount. I must say, I have never been less interested. It’s true that I am very lucky, but even so, there are stacks of things in life that I would still like, but none of them could be bought from a high street retailer at even 100% discount. They simply haven't anything I want.
In this house, we ignore the media and all that advertising and PR stuff, and those overpaid celebrities pushing their pension schemes, debt advice, building societies, three piece suites and whatever. Join us. Keep the magic of Christmas alive. Do what you want to do and have a wonderful time.
It’s all over. Christmas Day came and went as fast as a publisher’s royalty cheque.
After midnight communion (where I developed a sore throat, the result of a determination to sing all eight carols whether the woman in front of me liked it or not), the queen and I got to bed at about one forty-five Christmas day morning. I was so excited I didn’t drop off until about three, but woke up with a slight headache and a dry throat around seven thirty in the morning, about as happy as Woolworth’s sweetie supplier.
Between several phone calls to and from family and friends, I wrote and wrote my new Angel book. I made good progress. Meanwhile the queen was downstairs preparing a gargantuan meal to be served up at five-thirty.
Christmas dinner was great, but I had a second helping of Christmas pudding, which was the quintessence of Silverwood gluttony and my personal downfall.
We saw a bit of telly in the evening, and a great little film we had recorded called THE MAN WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS. (Shades of FOYLE’S WAR which we enjoy.) Sounds like a kid’s tale, but it was about a toy factory owner in the US, torn between making armaments or toys during World War 1. The only actor we knew was an amusing crusty old shuffler called Edward Asner. I remember he played an amusing crusty young editor in THE MARY TAYLOR MOORE SHOW a hundred years previously. You might remember him.
Yesterday (and today) there were some top-notch films but we’ve seen them all several times before.
Went to bed early to make up for loss of sleep. However I woke up at 3.20 am this morning. Couldn’t get off again. The overindulgence of Christmas pud was part of the reason. I knew I would pay for it. Anyway, it was not all a loss. I used some of the quiet time to write more of my Angel book until just gone five. Then the queen woke up, so I got up and made us a very early breakfast.
The Christmas pud problem was still with me. There was only one thing to do. At seven o’clock, I got washed, shaved and dressed and went out for a four mile walk. Now that might seem no distance at all to you, but it equates to walking from Land’s End to Melbourne and back to me. And it was absolutely desolate. It was like attending my own funeral procession. I only saw four zombies the entire walk. One every mile. And they were in hoodies and walking big ugly dogs. The streets were about as lively as the main street in Tombstone just before Jesse James, Frank James and Doc Holliday were expected to ride in.
I got back home at 10.35 am. The front of my legs hurt something rotten. The queen just laughed at me. I got undressed, came back to bed and wrote more Angel. I got stuck just after 12 noon, so I began to write this.
You know, the queen and I have had a super Christmas and I hope that - whatever your dreams were for this Christmastime - that they all came true.
One small gripe. The media seems to think that Christmas is all about buying, and high street retailers and whether it’s at a 30%, 50% or 75% discount. I must say, I have never been less interested. It’s true that I am very lucky, but even so, there are stacks of things in life that I would still like, but none of them could be bought from a high street retailer at even 100% discount. They simply haven't anything I want.
In this house, we ignore the media and all that advertising and PR stuff, and those overpaid celebrities pushing their pension schemes, debt advice, building societies, three piece suites and whatever. Join us. Keep the magic of Christmas alive. Do what you want to do and have a wonderful time.
December 22nd 2008
It’s all done. In our small way, we are ready for the great day.
And this year, we’ve never had so many Christmas cards. I’ve enjoyed opening every one. And each one is joyfully reciprocated. Some are from beloved distant relatives, who we haven’t seen for ages. Some from valuable friends we have made over the years who live far away. The rest are from life’s throng of friends, relations and enemies. Each card is enjoyed, renews and restores old relationships, and is full of memories.
I heard the husband of a well known celebrity couple on the telly say, in a superior way, ‘We aren’t sending cards this year … such a waste … we are sending the money to charity.’
On what they’re paid, they could afford to do both.
Poor souls. I don’t suppose they have many friends.
Happier news …
Another of my nephews, Dylan, popped in on Saturday. It was great to see him. He brought a bottle, a Christmas cake and some mince pies, which was very nice. We had a long chat and I took him down to the pub for an hour. He’s going to the West Indies over the holiday season. He enjoys diving so he’ll be having a great time in the water and warmth of the Caribbean. I thought, he’ll want something to read in the plane, so I gave him a copy of THE WIGMAKER. Well, all right. I don’t know whether he wanted something to read in the plane or not. I gave him the book anyway. Got to get rid of them somehow.
I’ve had a glance at the new Radio Times. There’s very little on the box for us this Christmastime. Comedians who aren’t funny. Repeats of very old films. Do you know, I’ve seen THE AFRICAN QUEEN that many times, I know the lines and pauses better than Humphrey Bogart.
Almost everything else is a repeat of a repeat. So most of the time I shall be cracking along writing my new Angel book, and I might catch up with some sleep. The queen has some reading she wants to do and she enjoys the TV hospital soaps like Casualty and Holby City where there is a lot of blood, pain, hypodermic needles and all the patients die.
Anyway there’s only two days to go, so now is the time to slip gently into ‘the magic of Christmas’ mode. Whether you’re joining in a big party, or there’s just two of you, or you are on your own, keep the magic alive.
And whatever your dreams are for this Christmastime, I hope they all come true.
I’ll get back to you very soon.
It’s all done. In our small way, we are ready for the great day.
And this year, we’ve never had so many Christmas cards. I’ve enjoyed opening every one. And each one is joyfully reciprocated. Some are from beloved distant relatives, who we haven’t seen for ages. Some from valuable friends we have made over the years who live far away. The rest are from life’s throng of friends, relations and enemies. Each card is enjoyed, renews and restores old relationships, and is full of memories.
I heard the husband of a well known celebrity couple on the telly say, in a superior way, ‘We aren’t sending cards this year … such a waste … we are sending the money to charity.’
On what they’re paid, they could afford to do both.
Poor souls. I don’t suppose they have many friends.
Happier news …
Another of my nephews, Dylan, popped in on Saturday. It was great to see him. He brought a bottle, a Christmas cake and some mince pies, which was very nice. We had a long chat and I took him down to the pub for an hour. He’s going to the West Indies over the holiday season. He enjoys diving so he’ll be having a great time in the water and warmth of the Caribbean. I thought, he’ll want something to read in the plane, so I gave him a copy of THE WIGMAKER. Well, all right. I don’t know whether he wanted something to read in the plane or not. I gave him the book anyway. Got to get rid of them somehow.
I’ve had a glance at the new Radio Times. There’s very little on the box for us this Christmastime. Comedians who aren’t funny. Repeats of very old films. Do you know, I’ve seen THE AFRICAN QUEEN that many times, I know the lines and pauses better than Humphrey Bogart.
Almost everything else is a repeat of a repeat. So most of the time I shall be cracking along writing my new Angel book, and I might catch up with some sleep. The queen has some reading she wants to do and she enjoys the TV hospital soaps like Casualty and Holby City where there is a lot of blood, pain, hypodermic needles and all the patients die.
Anyway there’s only two days to go, so now is the time to slip gently into ‘the magic of Christmas’ mode. Whether you’re joining in a big party, or there’s just two of you, or you are on your own, keep the magic alive.
And whatever your dreams are for this Christmastime, I hope they all come true.
I’ll get back to you very soon.
December 19th 2008
Ah, there you are.
I've just heard that the police have conclusive forensic evidence to prove that a man called Robert Napper murdered Rachel Nickell on Wimbledon Common 16 years ago. This is another instance of the police finding and meticulously preserving a substance belonging to a murderer, on the body (or at the scene) of the dead person, then years later, as science was developed, forensic services through DNA revealing the identity of the criminal.
In this instance, they don’t say what the substance was, but it could be as anodyne as dried out perspiration on a garment, or a small flake of skin under the victim’s fingernails, or a single hair that may have fallen from the murderer onto the victim’s body or clothing. Whatever it was, after 16 years, I call that pretty fantastic, don’t you?
To domestic matters …
I’ve finished the cards and posted them. I just have a few cards in walking distance to deliver. All I need is a bit more sunshine, like today, to encourage me outside and they’ll be done.
Presents all bought and despatched (except one). I don’t know what to get the queen. I said she can have anything she likes. It was a bit risky to say that, I know. Consequently, I was very nervous when we were watching the telly and there was a news item about the possible extinction of elephants, and how they need a safe haven. You see, the queen is as soft as a Strangeway’s dumpling, and I could visualise my favourite chair being occupied by a big grey chap with a long hooter.
We’ve already got the turkey. We’ve the tree to do, the cards to put up and we’re all set.
My eldest nephew, Simon, his daughters, Jazmin and Holly, and his friend, Sarah, came to see us at the weekend. The girls are all grown up now and flying around looking at the world. It seems so easy to them. Holly has already walked on the Great Wall of China and taken in the scene of the two towers disaster in New York. As soon as she gets a long weekend off work, I expect she’ll be going to the moon.
I am really looking forward to this Christmas … to the quiet, the rest and the opportunity to write undisturbed. Also, maybe I will sleep better when things settle down and there’s just the two of us.
Christmas is a great festival and it’s for everyone to enjoy and celebrate in their own way. The nativity is a magical story bringing love and hope to a poor man and his wife. We can do with it here and now, so, whether you’re on your own, just two of you, or in a big party, keep the magic alive. I hope your troubles are small ones, and whatever your dreams are for this Christmas time, may they all come true. Have a great time.
I’ll get back to you soon.
Ah, there you are.
I've just heard that the police have conclusive forensic evidence to prove that a man called Robert Napper murdered Rachel Nickell on Wimbledon Common 16 years ago. This is another instance of the police finding and meticulously preserving a substance belonging to a murderer, on the body (or at the scene) of the dead person, then years later, as science was developed, forensic services through DNA revealing the identity of the criminal.
In this instance, they don’t say what the substance was, but it could be as anodyne as dried out perspiration on a garment, or a small flake of skin under the victim’s fingernails, or a single hair that may have fallen from the murderer onto the victim’s body or clothing. Whatever it was, after 16 years, I call that pretty fantastic, don’t you?
To domestic matters …
I’ve finished the cards and posted them. I just have a few cards in walking distance to deliver. All I need is a bit more sunshine, like today, to encourage me outside and they’ll be done.
Presents all bought and despatched (except one). I don’t know what to get the queen. I said she can have anything she likes. It was a bit risky to say that, I know. Consequently, I was very nervous when we were watching the telly and there was a news item about the possible extinction of elephants, and how they need a safe haven. You see, the queen is as soft as a Strangeway’s dumpling, and I could visualise my favourite chair being occupied by a big grey chap with a long hooter.
We’ve already got the turkey. We’ve the tree to do, the cards to put up and we’re all set.
My eldest nephew, Simon, his daughters, Jazmin and Holly, and his friend, Sarah, came to see us at the weekend. The girls are all grown up now and flying around looking at the world. It seems so easy to them. Holly has already walked on the Great Wall of China and taken in the scene of the two towers disaster in New York. As soon as she gets a long weekend off work, I expect she’ll be going to the moon.
I am really looking forward to this Christmas … to the quiet, the rest and the opportunity to write undisturbed. Also, maybe I will sleep better when things settle down and there’s just the two of us.
Christmas is a great festival and it’s for everyone to enjoy and celebrate in their own way. The nativity is a magical story bringing love and hope to a poor man and his wife. We can do with it here and now, so, whether you’re on your own, just two of you, or in a big party, keep the magic alive. I hope your troubles are small ones, and whatever your dreams are for this Christmas time, may they all come true. Have a great time.
I’ll get back to you soon.
December 9th 2008
Glad you came back.
Well, I don’t know how you intend spending Christmas. But I have my plans made. It’s going to be paradise here. The staff will be off. The family and friends who are visiting will have been and gone. TV won’t tempt me; I expect it will be the usual rubbish or repeats of repeats. The house will be quiet, so after we have taken our Christmas communion, eaten our turkey and parsnips, and had a snooze, my wife has plans for some quiet reading and a bit of cooking, and I’ll be upstairs continuing to bang out my new Angel book. I will hope to have written twenty more pages by the New Year.
I said in my last diary entry that because it was The National Year of Reading, 2008, I was going to support it by emailing the nearest 12 libraries offering to give a talk to readers’ clubs or to anybody who was interested? Well, I didn’t send the emails. May I be forgiven.
My mind is too caught up with my new book, which I am about half way through. When I am carrying a new plot and a dozen new characters around in my head, it is quite enough for my little brain to think about.
Haven’t you ever gone to sleep thinking about something, and then woken up still thinking about it? Well that’s how I am when putting a new book together. I don’t sleep well either, which in these circumstances for me is normal.
Anyway, frankly, I didn't want to commit myself to turning out of the house in the cold weather. I really don’t want to face the fog, the frost and the snow. I know I must sound a bit of a wet Nellie, but I don’t care. My name’s Silverwood not Fiennes.
I’ll send the emails when the winter is almost over in February maybe, or earlier if I get a sudden attack of guilty conscience.
I hear from RED HERRINGS, the house journal for members of The Crime Writers’ Association that there is more gloomy news from libraries. They are planning to spend less again next year on books. Also 38 libraries have been closed and the forecast is that a similar number will have succumbed to the same fate by next March bringing the total number in three years to over a hundred.
By the time the library bosses have paid for the heating, lighting, rates and staff wages there’s nothing left to buy books! What a carry on.
I’ve had notification that the AGM of the Crime Writers’ Association 2009 will take place in Lincoln in April. So I will easily be able to attend that. It’s only an hour away. Last year it was in Kent and the year before that, Dublin. I understand that among other treats, we will be able to have a looksee at the control room and other ‘private’ places at Lincoln County police station.
One of my great nieces, Holly, has enrolled me onto something called 'Facebook'. Ever since, I have been receiving emails from all parts of the globe…. From people I met years ago …can’t remember many of them … it’s very agreeable but also very time consuming. As a matter of courtesy, I always reply to everybody who writes to me, but they will maybe have to wait a little while. If you want to write to me, you can, at <angeldetective@uwclub.net>, and if it’s really interesting, I might publish it here. How about that?
Well, I hope you are having a pleasant time despite the gloomy news. Don’t forget to go to the library and borrow a few books to tide you over the Christmas holiday ... or there are some good deals on the internet.
I’ll get back to you soon.
Glad you came back.
Well, I don’t know how you intend spending Christmas. But I have my plans made. It’s going to be paradise here. The staff will be off. The family and friends who are visiting will have been and gone. TV won’t tempt me; I expect it will be the usual rubbish or repeats of repeats. The house will be quiet, so after we have taken our Christmas communion, eaten our turkey and parsnips, and had a snooze, my wife has plans for some quiet reading and a bit of cooking, and I’ll be upstairs continuing to bang out my new Angel book. I will hope to have written twenty more pages by the New Year.
I said in my last diary entry that because it was The National Year of Reading, 2008, I was going to support it by emailing the nearest 12 libraries offering to give a talk to readers’ clubs or to anybody who was interested? Well, I didn’t send the emails. May I be forgiven.
My mind is too caught up with my new book, which I am about half way through. When I am carrying a new plot and a dozen new characters around in my head, it is quite enough for my little brain to think about.
Haven’t you ever gone to sleep thinking about something, and then woken up still thinking about it? Well that’s how I am when putting a new book together. I don’t sleep well either, which in these circumstances for me is normal.
Anyway, frankly, I didn't want to commit myself to turning out of the house in the cold weather. I really don’t want to face the fog, the frost and the snow. I know I must sound a bit of a wet Nellie, but I don’t care. My name’s Silverwood not Fiennes.
I’ll send the emails when the winter is almost over in February maybe, or earlier if I get a sudden attack of guilty conscience.
I hear from RED HERRINGS, the house journal for members of The Crime Writers’ Association that there is more gloomy news from libraries. They are planning to spend less again next year on books. Also 38 libraries have been closed and the forecast is that a similar number will have succumbed to the same fate by next March bringing the total number in three years to over a hundred.
By the time the library bosses have paid for the heating, lighting, rates and staff wages there’s nothing left to buy books! What a carry on.
I’ve had notification that the AGM of the Crime Writers’ Association 2009 will take place in Lincoln in April. So I will easily be able to attend that. It’s only an hour away. Last year it was in Kent and the year before that, Dublin. I understand that among other treats, we will be able to have a looksee at the control room and other ‘private’ places at Lincoln County police station.
One of my great nieces, Holly, has enrolled me onto something called 'Facebook'
Well, I hope you are having a pleasant time despite the gloomy news. Don’t forget to go to the library and borrow a few books to tide you over the Christmas holiday ... or there are some good deals on the internet.
I’ll get back to you soon.
November 14 2008
Where have you been?
I have some great news. I have just had a letter from the publishers, Hales, to say that the world rights to publish a large print edition of MURDER IN BARE FEET has been sold to Thorpe’s. (Thorpe’s have already published 9 of my books in large print for those with impaired eyesight). That's good, isn't it? But even bigger news is that Hales have sold the audio rights in the book to Isis. That means that MURDER IN BARE FEET will be recorded by an actor on a CD, so that blind people or people who like being read to, can listen to the book. Isn’t that fabulous? I looked at other writers who have their books recorded and sold by Isis and I am indeed in honoured company. I was wondering who they might get to record it. If I had a say, I would go for Robert Hardy. Although he normally speaks in a cultured accent, I’m sure he would produce an excellent northern twang for Angel. What do you think? I’ll let you know how it goes.
Hey. Did you know it was The National Year of Reading, 2008? It’s a government initiative directed at libraries, publishers and responsible writers. Evidently I am expected to prise myself out of my comfortable hidey hole where I do my writing and go out and meet people. I am not too chuffed with the thought, but I appreciate that the idea of encouraging everybody to read more (particularly books) is in my ultimate best interests. I am, therefore writing to the 12 library authorities nearest home offering my services to talk or be interviewed or whatever they might want to do with me, before the year runs out. I don’t care if nobody takes me up on it. I will have done my bit. I can write all the more and stay cosy by the fire. I am nice bloke really, and I love meeting people, it’s just the business of getting dressed up, leaving a warm house, finding the place and parking the car …. I don’t know what will happen. We’ll see. I’ll tell you how it works out.
By the way this weather is playing havoc with my joints. I didn’t think I’d ever be saying that, but age tells all. My dear wife Celia’s wrist is still giving her some punishment, but very slowly improving we think. Hope you’re weathering the wintry punishment. Turn the fire up, blow the expense. Somebody else will have to pay for it if you don’t.
Thanks for looking in. Come back soon. Take care.
Where have you been?
I have some great news. I have just had a letter from the publishers, Hales, to say that the world rights to publish a large print edition of MURDER IN BARE FEET has been sold to Thorpe’s. (Thorpe’s have already published 9 of my books in large print for those with impaired eyesight). That's good, isn't it? But even bigger news is that Hales have sold the audio rights in the book to Isis. That means that MURDER IN BARE FEET will be recorded by an actor on a CD, so that blind people or people who like being read to, can listen to the book. Isn’t that fabulous? I looked at other writers who have their books recorded and sold by Isis and I am indeed in honoured company. I was wondering who they might get to record it. If I had a say, I would go for Robert Hardy. Although he normally speaks in a cultured accent, I’m sure he would produce an excellent northern twang for Angel. What do you think? I’ll let you know how it goes.
Hey. Did you know it was The National Year of Reading, 2008? It’s a government initiative directed at libraries, publishers and responsible writers. Evidently I am expected to prise myself out of my comfortable hidey hole where I do my writing and go out and meet people. I am not too chuffed with the thought, but I appreciate that the idea of encouraging everybody to read more (particularly books) is in my ultimate best interests. I am, therefore writing to the 12 library authorities nearest home offering my services to talk or be interviewed or whatever they might want to do with me, before the year runs out. I don’t care if nobody takes me up on it. I will have done my bit. I can write all the more and stay cosy by the fire. I am nice bloke really, and I love meeting people, it’s just the business of getting dressed up, leaving a warm house, finding the place and parking the car …. I don’t know what will happen. We’ll see. I’ll tell you how it works out.
By the way this weather is playing havoc with my joints. I didn’t think I’d ever be saying that, but age tells all. My dear wife Celia’s wrist is still giving her some punishment, but very slowly improving we think. Hope you’re weathering the wintry punishment. Turn the fire up, blow the expense. Somebody else will have to pay for it if you don’t.
Thanks for looking in. Come back soon. Take care.
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