Beating Word into Submission and Telling Jokes to the Mirror

It’s been a busy few weeks and the house is not looking its best. I’ve done the basics – washing, food shopping and preparation and essential dog walking and child organisation. But that’s it.

I’ve had my nose to the grindstone trying to publish The Goddess Workshop as a paperback via Create Space. A writer friend I know through the Women’s Fiction Crit Group on told me that “publishing through Create Space is a matter of beating Word into submission” and, I can tell you, she’s right! I now know such things as how to have page numbers in some places and not in others and how to stop the widows and orphans control function. Don’t worry, I haven’t been going about being unpleasant to  any bereaved people – it just means that now the bottoms of all the pages in my book line up the way the tops all do. Might sound like a small thing, and obviously the story is what counts, but you don’t want to have anything to distract readers from the story, do you? But hopefully everything’s OK now – a proof copy should be winging its way to me as I type, and then provided it’s all right, it should be all systems’s go. Hurrah!

I haven’t wanted to lose momentum with The Dare Club while I’ve been occupied with all this stuff, so I’ve been doing an hour’s writing every morning before my son wakes up, starting around 6.00am. I know, dedicated or what? Some might prefer to say crazy, I realize.

Anyway, next Tuesday – 21st – it will be time for me to go to London to complete my comedy challenge by performing for 3 minutes in front of an audience. So I will be doing lots of talking to myself as I practice and memorize my routine. Not to mention choosing the outfit to wear on stage… Is this an excuse for a shopping trip I wonder?


I’m trying to look goofy, silly! It’s all part of the act!

And then I’ll definitely have to turn my attention to my house, because my mother-in-law is staying overnight to help out with childcare, and if you could see how pristine her house always is, you’d understand why I turn into a whirling housework dervish every time she visits.

Think of me next Tuesday night! 🙂


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