Just a quick post today as I have loads to get through. I had an easy day yesterday—as Saturday’s should be. I decided not to leave the house except to feed the animals, because given that I’m off all next week I was in no hurry to rush out to the nearest coffee shop to chill. This is my week and I’m going to do as I feel.

My office is in a bit of a state. After some housely chores I got stuck in but soon discovered it was in more need of a deep clean than I realised. I’ve no idea where the dust and crap comes from but it really needed a touch of bleach and a good scrub. It will be later today before it’s finished.

I’ve so many books lying around I just do not know what to do with them. Many were given to me, many bought and many have simply found their way into my room with no apparent history of where they came from. I’ve started splitting them into piles: keep close; keep near; and stick in a box in the loft. The ‘keep close’ ones will be added to my book shelves, and the ‘keep near’ will go into boxes I have hiding under the bed.

I watched a programme about the art collection of Queen Victoria and the importance it played throughout her life. With some interviews from HRH Prince of Wales, it was a fascinating insight into her life with Albert and how, in the absence of quality photography such as we do these days, played such an important part in documenting their lives.

Speaking of documentaries, over my morning coffee this morning I watched an interview with Desmond Tutu talking to Fern Britton. A lot of the TV images they showed as they describe his life fighting apartheid, brought back loads of memories of news stories I remember seeing when I was a kid. Interesting stuff and an amazing guy.

Right! I have to get going as the sooner I get my cleaning out the way the sooner I can start using my office for its primary purpose: writing.

Until tomorrow, peace and out!

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Lately I’ve been re-ordering albums I used to listen to when I was younger but only ever had on cassette tape. Vinyl is covered since I got my USB Turntable, which I use to convert singles and LPs into MP3 so I can listen on the iPod, but cassette tape is a different ball game.

One of these albums arrived in the post yesterday, an iconic album from 1989 that changed the face of pop music and influenced thousands of songwriters. It’s as entertaining as it is melodic, and holds many, many memories for me. It is, of course, Three Feet High and Rising by De La Soul.

I’ve had it on repeat practically the whole time I’ve not been at the day job. As well as being terrific journey down memory lane, I’d forgotten just how good some of the tracks are. Not only that, but the digital age has meant there’s more to the album than I ever noticed before. It always happens; turn the volume up with a good pair of headphones on and suddenly the tiny intricacies of the recording become noticeable. It’s like taking a magnifying glass to a Constable.

I had some great ideas for poems yesterday. Spending so much time in their company seems to have triggered a wave of natural connection with my poetry side. I keep getting these wee ideas or great lines to use while I’m doing other things. I’m still behind on my overall GDR goal for the year, so this is helping to make up for it as well as boosting my options for forthcoming chapbooks.

I spent quite a while on family duty last night so the only other thing I got done was the polishing of some of the poems in the SILLY POEMS FOR WEE PEOPLE VOL.2 manuscript. The best of the poems from VOL.1 are in there—some of which have been re-written or polished—and the rest of the book will be brand new kids’ poems. I’m even toying with the idea of writing a wee short story to add in at the last minute but I’ve not fully decided if I’ll do that yet.

Beans on wholemeal toast for dinner last night, to which I woke up to a thunderous reception when I rose out of bed this morning. Not sure that Gail was too impressed but that’s married life for you. Gail calls it a disgusting male habit; I call it an idiosyncrasy.

The day job is going well just now. I’m down to 10 hours per day so that’s not bad.

Till tomorrow—peace out!

The Scruffy Dog Review – Winter Issue OUT NOW!!

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I had a fantastic evening at the Edinburgh Book Festival last night, the kind of evening that is as much relaxing and enjoyable as it is motivational and thought provoking.

After battling with the rush hour traffic I finally arrived at Charlotte Square, basking in early evening rays of warm sunshine. I met my mate in the book shop and we went for a beer in the Spiegeltent and caught up on all we had been up to since we last saw each other-at the 2008 Book Fest!

Into the RBS Main Tent for the Iain Banks event we trooped, and listened to the Fife author talk about his new book, Transition. Where The Bridge split his two literary personas into Iain Banks and Iain M Banks, and the advent of his fiction work running in parallel with his science fiction, this new book brings the two streams clattering together again.

Banks read a substantial passage from Transition, then talked at length about his atheistic views and how the novel came into being. Nervous, and at times bordering on hyperactive, Banks was his usual funny and slightly controversial self, asking “what sick bastard thought that one up?” when referring to the idea of the original sin.

The event finished at 7.30pm, after which we went into the signing tent to grab another beer. We sat out in the gardens and talked, but my mate had his second event starting at 8pm so had to leave early. I, on the other hand, had until 8.30pm so was able to finish my beer at a more relaxed pace.

My second event was with two of Scotland’s best young authors, Alan Bissett and Ewan Morrison. Morrison read from his new book, Menage and spoke passionately and at length about Generation-X and his experiences in the post-modern art world. A fascinating and intelligent bloke who comes across as a pure artist before a writer, which is what draws me to his writing, and what pushes me into thinking about my own work from an entirely different angle.

But if I’m being honest it was Bissett I had come to see. Bissett is he successful author of two novels, his third being the one he was promoting last night, Death of a Ladies Man. Bissett’s style of public reading is captivating, more acting than reciting, and his abililty to draw his audience into his world is quite remarkable. His humour appeals and the manner in which he talks about writing is awe inspiring. For such a young guy, he puts me to shame.

That said, I was amazed his previous two novels, Boyracers and The Incredible Adam Spark, both took four years each to write. When he said a novel takes a lot out of him I can believe it, but the fact he gets so deep inside his characters heads is, in my opinion, what makes his books so readable. And it’s what I think is missing from mine.

I have so many projects on the go at any one time, how reasonable is it for me to expect to be able to give my all and put every single ounce of my creativity and passion into my work? Like Bissett, when he was writing his novels he also had a day job (albeit a creative writing lecturer and teacher), but he had to contend with the pressure of paying the bills as he was writing.

I learned a great deal from simply watching and listening to Bissett: the power of delivering a good reading, the confidence factor, the gratification from just letting your mind go, how to think of societies impact one your own life and thus, your writing, and of course, that it can all be done while earning a living.

Superb stuff!

This evening I will be spending some time in the company of Ian Rankin who is launching his new novel, The Complaints, at the book fest. As always, I’m sure he will have some interesting thoughts to divulge.

Before I head off I have some good news for Madness fans—BBC4 will be dedicating a whole night to the nutty boys in the autumn. Given BBC4s legendary theme night quality, we’re in for a treat!

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I had a wonderful day off work yesterday (Wednesday). I met my mum off the bus from Glasgow and we had a wee day to ourselves, and as it turned out, one to remember.

After a morning coffee we took a trip out to the Dean Gallery and spent an hour and a half browsing the art on display. The lower floor has a large collection of Dada and Surrealist art, some of which was more appealing than others. I quite the surrealist stuff, but it has to give me a connection somewhere, not just exist.

The featured artwork was split between Edinburgh-born artist Eduardo Paolozzi, with installations of his mechanical sculptures in the gardens as well as inside, and four Scottish painters: Wilhelmina Barns-Graham, John Bellany, Alan Davie and Anne Redpath. The collection included “works of expressionism and abstraction with influences ranging from natural forms to Zen Buddhism to jazz music”. Again, some of it was lovely and others we just didn’t see it.

Fog had smothered Edinburgh by the time we left, so we jumped into a cab and headed off to get some lunch near our next event at the Kings Theatre. We settled in a small bar/restaurant just along from the theatre and enjoyed some carrot and coriander soup with toasted ciabatta, followed by a wee coffee to keep us going.

Into the theatre then, and the main event of the day. I had managed to get fifth row centre seats for what has been billed as the stage highlight of the year: Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot with Sir Ian McKellen, and Patrick Stewart as Vladimir and Estragon, and Simon Callow and Ronald Pickup as Pozzo and Lucky.

I doubt I could do justice to the performances of those involved, by attempting to describe the amazing quality of acting, and the utterly enjoyable two and a half hours we spent in the theatre. It was quite simply the best time I have spent in a theatre in my life, and Ian McKellen in particular, well, it was top notch stuff of the highest order, and both my mother and I felt honoured to have been there.

Afterwards, a quick drink in a nearby pub with much discussion about the play, and we took a walk from Tollcross around Edinburgh Castle, down the Royal Mile to Hunter Square and Le Sept, my favourite restaurant in Edinburgh. Or at least it used to be until it moved, and this was the first time I had been to its new premises.

We took our seats in the more open and less intimate dining area, and took nearly three hours to enjoy our meal – and I mean enjoy because the cooking has not deteriorated one iota. We both had the Grilled Goats Cheese with leaves, croutons, olive oil, garlic, and basil. It was delicious, not too filling either. Then we both tucked into the Aberdeen Angus 8oz Rump Steak served with fries, my mother having it with the Mixed Berries & Port Sauce, and myself with the Garlic & Parsley Butter. All of this deliciously prepared food was washed down with a bottle of French Julienas wine.

I think the meal must have finished around half seven or eight o’clock, because we talked for a long while afterwards over the rest of the wine and more coffee, before I walked my mum back to the bus station in St. Andrews and waved her off to Glasgow.

It was a fabulous day of which I can say there was no single highlight, though perhaps the exception of that may have been Ian McKellen’s acting skills. It was a day of culture, of talking, of fine wine and dining, and of just being with my mum – I can’t really ask for much better than that. I don’t spend enough time with my mother, and I probably don’t talk as much to my parents as I should, but today was memorable, and I know we’ll do it again soon.

The extra bonus to the day was the top-up my Creative Well received through the enjoyable morning spent in the Dean Gallery, but more so in the Kings Theatre in the company of some of Britain’s top Shakespearean actors performing one of the most important and stimulating plays of the 20th Century.

Cheap and free e-books:

• Selektion – FREE!
• Brick by Brick – FREE!
• Silly Poems for Wee People Vol.1 – FREE!
• Fringe Fantastic – £3 (£5 OFF!!!)
• Poolside Poetry – £3 (£2 OFF!!!)

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Okay, so onto the evening. I finished work early and headed home to take care of some work before we went out, but once complete we headed out to Herbe Bistro on George IV Bridge, for a nice romantic meal. We enjoyed starters of crispy falafel with sweet chilli hummus and roquette, followed by a main course of grilled salmon in a basil crust, and crushed vine tomato; all washed down with a free glass of red wine and another bottle of French Red that I bought. It was a delicious meal and I thought it was a lovely wee restaurant. It has a nice relaxing atmosphere, very pleasant staff and the food was fresh and well-cooked.

Then it we were off to the Festival Theatre to see Swan Lake performed by prima ballerina, Irina Kolesnikova, and the St Petersburg Ballet Theatre. According to the blurb, the company is considered to be in a class of its own, and their production of Swan Lake – supposedly the world’s most romantic ballet – saw her dance the dual role of Odette-Odile for which she is acclaimed all over the world.

It was my first ballet, and I hadn’t known what to expect. I had been lucky with the seats when I booked them, managing to get centre aisle in the middle of the stalls thanks to a cancellation just before I called, so we had a great view of the stage. The orchestra started up and the show started. Gail got early giggles somewhat, merely at the sight of me sitting in a theatre watching ballet dancers. Without labouring the point, I don’t exactly look like an aficionado of the Russian ballet, and I kind of stuck out somewhat amongst the elite and the posh of the city of Edinburgh.

As with all things I try, I went in with my eyes and mind open. I didn’t not enjoy it, which surprised me because I really am not into dancing at the best of times – watching or performing – so I thought this might be a test of endurance and patience. I quite enjoyed it – as much as any Glaswegian with an aching arse and stiff legs can – and I felt quite privileged to have been there. A lot of my enjoyment came from the music, although there was a lot to be said of the stunning sets they used, and I have to admit that some of the outfits looked pretty good too.

I always appreciate people who clearly love what they perform, and this was the case tonight. Though after a while as my bum became more numb, I did find the dancing quite repetitive. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of moves in ballet. I found it hard to follow the story. When the curtain went up for the first break, I asked Gail to briefly catch me up and make sure I had been following it right. Apparently someone had died, but I totally missed it. I asked if that was what the bang from the stage was, thinking it might have been from a gun shot, but it turned out that was probably just one of the musicians dropping something. Oh well.

Tights. I can’t let this blog entry pass without mentioning men in tights. Women in tights and tu-tu’s are generally very nice. There were some very lovely female dancers, and I make no apologies for saying so; I am a red-blooded male after all, so that’s just the way it goes.

But much like an optical illusion where one you find your eyes distracted to a single point of focus, my line of sight was continually pulled to the pubic area of the male dancers.

For far too long my eyes were fixated, and so it’s just as well I kept my comment to the first interval, as Gail exploded into laughter when I announced: “I can’t take my eyes off his cock!”

If you want a full review of this evening’s ballet performance, you can read all about it my Scotland’s Treasure column, which will be published in the Spring issue of The Scruffy Dog Review in April. It will be my first ever ballet review, so quite a test of my writing capabilities!

After the show we popped round the corner to find a bar for another quick drink and found The Jazz Bar. We listened to a couple of live bands and chatted over a few more drinks. Before we knew it we were clambering into a taxi at 2am.

Slick Editing Progress (Chapters)

So I think this year’s NaNo will be the book I plotted a quick synopsis for last month: Gatecrash. But this presents a new set of problems in that I haven’t done enough thinking and plotting yet, and there are only seven days to go before I begin it. On the other hand, Gatecrash is more “mature” in my mind and has formed more than the Lennox book, so I think I’ll go with it.

The only thing that worries me, is when I have done no planning, I have failed NaNo in the past, but when I have planned, I have completed it. So this week must see a fair amount of preparation work so I know I can get through it.

Also this week though, I have a lot of freelance work to complete. When I last spoke to you it was Thursday evening of the 18th and I had just lost some editing work thanks to an email failure. Well there was an interesting development after that blog post was entered.

At about 11pm I got an email from my editor, resending the manuscripts for editing. I worked my arse off until two in the morning and got them sent in. I used this fast turnaround to request some leeway with my deadline. I then switched my PC off for the last time that weekend, and hoped for the best.

Yesterday when I got home from my family weekend break, he had emailed me later on the Friday to say that wouldn’t be a problem because “my timing is very reliable.” Things are looking good with this client and it is a pleasure to work with him. No room for complacency though – those articles MUST be in this week.

Our weekend away was great. The sun shone for most of the time from a cloudless sky, which meant that I got singed on my head yet again. But it also meant that from dusk till dawn was perhaps the coldest I have ever been outside of standing naked in a field of snow. To say it was cold at night was an understatement, and on Saturday I had to get dressed during the night and wrap the duvet around me in an attempt to get my core temperature back up. It barely worked.

Despite the overnight temperature woes, we had lots of fun. We had taken Laura’s pal, Amy, with us and this meant Gail and I had more time on our hands alone than we would normally have. The caravan was not as good in quality as the one we had in Scarborough, being Bronze standard as opposed to Silver, which meant there were no radiators, it stank of wet dog hair, and there was a smaller living area. But all things considered it did us fine.

When we arrived on Friday, all the girls wanted to do was play in their bunk beds for the rest of the night, only coming out for dinner, juice and crisps. I cracked open a bottle of wine and Gail and I settled in front of the TV, but with Gail not feeling well of late, she was soon asleep – leaving me alone with a full bottle of wine. Not for long.

On Saturday we went exploring and headed south to Blyth. We wandered around the port and harbour but there wasn’t that much else to do there. It was very warm though, and the sun took its toll on my head as usual.

We came across some sculptures on the pier made from old straithes, called Spirit of the Straithes, built to mark the renaissance of Blyth. It is a fantastic structure, reaching out of the water into the sky, but I found it a little contradictory when you looked into the water at the many dead fish floating around.

We wandered into the town and stumbled across a large market in the centre of the town where a lot of browsing and buying took place. I bought some coffee for the caravan and a hot dog with all the trimmings while I waited. We eventually found our way back to the car, then headed back for the girls to go swimming as they had booked the underwater jets to play with. We left them to it and met them back at the caravan where we had already started dinner for them coming back – pizza.

After dinner we headed up into the club so the girls could go dancing, which meant I could get peace to watch England play South Africa in the Rugby World Cup Final (they got beat). I found a nice wee corner and ordered up some Guinness to watch the game, before joining Gail at a table in the club later.

On Sunday we went exploring again, this time heading north to Alnwick. Again, we had a glorious day for it and spent a large part of the afternoon roaming this lovely wee town. We visited Alnwick Gardens, a beautifully set symmetrical garden which explodes with life when you enter.

Beyond the large grass area in front of the tortoise shell-like visitor centre, is a large water feature built into the hillside. It acts like a giant water fall but has sporadic water shows using jets and tunnels to fire water in fancy patterns across and over itself.

We got lost in the hedge maze and wandered around the water garden which had lots of sculptures incorporating the physics of water into the natural landscape. On the hill were more tunnels and running brooks built into the side, and over the top, a large rose garden where 17 white doves live, and bountiful fruit and flowers.

Back at the caravan we were supposed to have a fish tea but the shop wasn’t open?!? So we cobbled together a meal from what we had in the fridge/freezer before heading up to the club for another night of dancing and amusements.

After signing out yesterday morning we went for a swim before heading off, and making good time got home around half past three. We dropped off Amy, and while Gail went out to do some clothes shopping, I fell asleep on the couch, only waking when I heard the key in the door and discovering I was lying in a darkened house.

Too tired for anything else I called it a night. I’m well aware I have promised to post pictures from Amsterdam, Spain and now Sandy Bay, but haven’t as yet – but I do still intend to do this so stay tuned.

I was glad to get back home and am looking forward to some downtime now so I can get on with some work – these past three weekends away have left me craving for work and craving to spend time at home. I’m looking forward to NaNo and I’m enjoying the freelance work I’m getting. Things are going well just now.

Walking to the office this morning though, only filled me with dread. I thought of my friend and colleague, Devon Ellington, who has recently taken a giant step in her writing career – go to her site and drop her a note of congratulation, because what she has done takes huge guts and drive, and is an inspiration to all us writers who want to change our lives for the better.

I worked a lot on the articles, getting around half of them done and a lot more research on the rest. I should have all the first drafts completed by tomorrow evening. I also worked heavily on Gatecrash for NaNoWriMo, and am feeling more confident about next week already.

My latest weekly article was also posted at The Dog Blog. Please check it out.

I’m off to watch Spooks and then the penultimate episode of The Sopranos.

First, today’s work run-through:

I wrote my EIBF concluding article for October’s Scotland’s Treasure column in The Scruffy Dog Review. I also want to cover the Warhol exhibition and one or two gigs before it’s finished.

I got initial feedback from my client – the copy isn’t what he was looking for. For some reason he won’t communicate over email – only MSN – which means I can’t get further details until later in the evening. If he was to email me I could pick it up. Growing difficulties are leading me further away from this gig. I’m getting really pissed off with it now and wish I hadn’t gone for it.

I chased up the outstanding music review gig – hope to hear back shortly with a sale.

I finished up doing my newsletter ready to post tomorrow at some point.

I upgraded Wordpress to 2.2 – you may notice a difference in the sidebar to the right. The categories are now held in a combo box, I have several RSS feeds, and a calendar where all the archives can also be located from. The main difference is in the preparation of the posts, which is now going to be a lot quicker to execute.

I also have a brand new splash page on the front of my main site. It displays all my book and anthology covers I’ve published. Check it out here.

And to finish off, I would normally publish my Monthly GDR Wrap-Up. Unfortunately, there is so much to consider I’ve decided to postpone it until tomorrow.

Quick shout out in case any artists are reading. If you are local and are having an exhibition in Edinburgh during September, drop me an email. I don’t see why Warhol should get all the press when there’s so much talent out there. If you want a review, come to me. If nobody gets in touch, Warhol it is.

C’est la vie.