Hayley Long's Blog Type Thing

January 2012

2012-01-12T11:31:00.000Z

I thought I’d start this year off by addressing a question which I get asked rather a lot. It’s this one:

How do you get your ideas?

The short answer is this:

I wish I knew!

But I don’t. They just sneak into my head and pop up in my brain at completely random moments. One time I was pushing a trolley around a massive branch of Tesco in Cardiff and as I by-passed the racks of women’s shoes, I was reminded of when I’d worked as a Saturday sales assistant in a cheap shoe shop as a teenager. And this got me thinking about the friend who worked in the shop with me and the fun we had every Saturday. Somehow, from one row of shoes, an entire plotline for a teen novel grew in my head and soon after, I began to write the novel Lottie Biggs is Not Mad. By the time I got to the end, the setting and characters were all established so the next two books about Lottie sort of just wrote themselves. But don’t get me wrong! I’m not saying they were easy to write because they weren’t. Weeks and weeks of frowning at a screen were involved. But during those many weeks, the voices of my characters bounced around continuously in my head and I wrote down their conversations and tried them out in various different scenarios and bit by bit those books got written.

And since then, I’ve written a whole other book which will be out this June. What’s Up With Jody Barton? is set in London and it’s about twins. I’m not a twin and I don’t live in London – although I did once. But the truth is I haven’t got a clue how I came up with the idea for this novel. I just know that I started writing, managed about a paragraph or two and then scratched my head and thought, ‘Hang on, this is boring. What about if….?’ I can’t tell you anymore than that or I’ll give the plot away. But I can tell you that Jody Barton is in some ways a very personal book. Because it’s a complete melting-pot of ideas and references which are important to me. Central to the plot are a couple of admired American singers. And two of my favourite films get a mention. And inspirational graffiti spotted on a wall in Brooklyn last summer is transported – by the magic of imagination - to a wall in Willesden Green, London.

So I suppose the long answer is that I get my ideas from everywhere. And then I sit down for hours and hours and hours and shut myself in a room and weave new worlds around them. And I can’t manage one stage without the other. In order to write, I need to live a little. And in order to keep paying the bills, I need to write. So it’s a tricky old balancing act.

But before I go, I’m going to point you in the direction of another blog I stumbled across just before Christmas. By total coincidence, I discovered http://sherlocktales.blogspot.com and after reading, intrigued, for just a few minutes, I realised that the blog’s author and I were in Felixstowe Sixth Form together at the same time. Unlike me, Jilly Sherlock does not sit in front of a computer and weave stories out of random bits of graffiti and fleeting remembrances from the past. Her whole life is a story. A remarkable one. Last April, she left Felixstowe on her bike and began cycling east. She is now in China and still pedalling. Her blog is one of the most informative, inspiring and incredibly funny and well-written blogs you will ever read. I urge you to have a look at it. Especially if you are a publisher or a literary agent!

Thanks to everyone who emailed me over the Christmas holidays. If I haven’t responded yet, I will.

See you next month.

Farewell Agent Yeeles

2011-12-14T09:30:00.005Z

First of all, apologies for my deathly silence on this blog. I was finishing my manuscript off and I got so completely IN to what I was doing that I let things slip. Things like eating lunch. And going to bed at a normal hour. And switching my head off and going to sleep once I got there. And writing blogs. But now I’ve actually got my manuscript finished - give or take a bit of tidying up. And I’m totally back on top of things.

And this month, I have to say GOODBYE and a big fat massive THANK YOU to Hayley Yeeles, my (ex) agent at Pollinger Ltd, who has looked after me for the last four years. As well as sorting out contracts and explaining to me what CONSUMER FACING means and nagging me to have multiple social network accounts and a BIGGER INTERNET PRESENCE, Agent Yeeles - aka Yeelesy - has been a key player in the production of all four of the novels I’ve written in the last four years. She’s been one of my top cheerleaders and has frequently chipped in with useful suggestions and helpful advice about what the YOUTH are into. (In this area, she’s been particularly handy because – although she doesn’t acknowledge it - she’s still practically a baby herself.) And thanks to Yeelesy, I now know a lot of useful things that I never knew before. Stuff like:-

There is a Dutch band from Kortrijk called Goose.
The Hunger Games is actually a really good book.
JLS put their faces on all sorts of interesting consumer products.
The Cittie of Yorke in Holborn is an AMAZING old Victorian gin palace. That bad photo is us having a drink in one of the snug drinking booths last week. I’m on the left looking old and fat and Yeelesy is on the right looking like a cartoon character. (Her words, to be fair.) In real life, she actually looks NOTHING AT ALL like this.

But sometimes, Yeelesy has made me feel like the baby. After writing three Lottie Biggs books, Yeelesy talked me out of several panic attacks and calmly told me I was quite capable of writing something different. As usual, she was bang on DEAD RIGHT because I totally have actually.

The reason we’re now parting company is because Yeelesy has decided she’s had enough of being freezing cold and she’s heading off to Australia. I shall miss her. I’ll even sort of miss that bit where we stood around in dodgy doorways of Holborn or King’s Cross while she stopped to have a fag.

Yeelesy, you’ve been a tremendous amount of FUN and tremendously PATIENT and tremendously HELPFUL and tremendously GENEROUS with your time.

THANKS KID AND HAVE A FAB TIME IN AUSTRALIA.

Right. Sentimental mush over. I’m still represented by Pollinger Literary Agency and my new agent is Joanna Devereux – who I met last week and who is very lovely and who seems quite happy enough with this cold chilly island that is Britain. So onwards to 2012.

HAVE A GOOD CHRISTMAS AND SEE YOU ALL IN THE NEW YEAR.

On Writing and Libraries

2011-10-17T09:40:00.000+01:00

I’m a little quiet just at the moment. Not in a down, depressed and nothing to say kind of way.

Oh no!

I’m quiet in an ohmigodohmigod, I must keep writing because I need to meet my deadline kind of way.

And that is a marvy, cheery and totes lush feeling to have. And also a bit of a leery-sceery one too.

[Apologies for the 40 year old person speaking in a totally teen-tastic and worryingly word-up way but… um… I’m very much a method writer, you see, and it’s proper hard to shake.]Because writing is pretty much what makes me tick. I don’t know why. It’s a fairly odd and mysterious business. I don’t even know exactly how those novels appear. Other than with a lot of thought-control and hours and hours of frowning at a screen and a very critical eye. But once that ‘special idea’ has registered, the words start coming. And this is such a relief that I’m more than happy to sit up until three in the morning and just roll with it. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. In fact, I’m doing it now. For some reason, my brain works better at night. My house is all silent, my mug is full of rocket-fuel and my head is totally, totally focussed - something I struggle to achieve during the day - when there’s light coming through the window and a bunny hopping about outside and a shop around the corner which sells Pringles and Diagnosis Murder on the telly.

So here I am typing while the world sleeps and I can’t tell you anything much about what I’m working on right now but I can tell you this. I’m really into it. And I’m writing stuff which is making me do a little secret smirk now and again. Even though it’s blatantly bad form to smirk at your own jokes. But, hey, I’m being truthful. And then yesterday, I had one of those weird moments where I made myself smirk and then, half a page later, realised that I’d made myself feel so sad for somebody who doesn’t actually exist that my eyes were leaking. And if laughing at your own jokes is bad – moving yourself to tears is just plain wrong.

Except that it’s not really me that’s doing it, is it? Because anyone who writes fiction will know what I mean when I say the weird creative pixies take over and the characters start writing themselves.

Having said that, it’s still brain-knackering, so I wish they’d hurry up and finish the job.

Before I shuffle off for a rocket-fuel refill, I just want to say a few words about Kensal Rise Library. It closed today. It was in a lovely old Victorian building and has been providing a local service to the people in that part of NW10 since Mark Twain opened it in 1900. I read with a real sense of sadness that the local community came out to protest and shouted ‘Save Kensal Rise Library’ as workmen nailed boards over the door and windows. For a couple of years in the late 1990s, I’d have been one of those people in the crowd. I lived just around the corner in Buchanan Gardens and often went to that little library – largely to use a computer as I didn’t have my own. Back then, with a student loan to pay off, rent and bills to find, a Zones 1-4 monthly travelcard to purchase and a newly qualified teacher’s salary, a computer was beyond my means. Kensal Rise Library helped me out. Sadly, it won’t be helping anyone else out. Many more libraries in Brent are scheduled to close. This is terrible, awful and shocking. Our Prime Minister says a lot about this thing called the Big Society. What I want to know is this:

How can we have a happy, fair and functioning Big Society if we take away the institutions which are the life-blood of our lovely little communities?

September Blog

2011-09-13T15:33:00.003+01:00

So, pretty soon after I got back from New York, I went to Liverpool.I’d been up that way several times before but I’d only ever seen the insides of school libraries and whilst those are very lovely places to be, I felt like I really wanted to see something of the city itself.Because every time I’ve ever been up, people have always been really friendly and nice to me (at the last school I visited in Liverpool – St. Edwards – they gave me French Fancies) and also I really love the Beatles.I always have done and I always will.

So I took my mum with me.

Because, unlike me or anyone else I know, she’s actually seen the Beatles play live.At Ipswich Gaumont on Wednesday 22ndMay, 1963. She says she can’t remember what songs they played though because she was screaming all the way through it.

So we drove up north together for a Beatles-themed Liverpool mini-break.

Liverpool didn’t disappoint me and I don’t think it disappointed my mum either.We went on a ferry across the Mersey – my mum started singing bits of the Gerry and the Pacemakers song – and we went to Mathew Street to see where the Cavern Club wasand sort of still is.And then we did a massive walk that took us by both the big cathedrals and then we went shopping and I have to say that Liverpool is a very good place to shop.In fact, it’s probably better than New York really except that I couldn’t find a pair of Puma trainers anywhere near as nice – or as cheap – as the amazing black and white ones I spotted in a shop near Union Square and should have bought but didn’t.

And then we went to The Beatles Story which was great.And the new Museum of Liverpool which was also great.And we had really lush fish and six chunky chips at the PanAm bar in Albert Dock. To be honest, it was probably the nicest fish and chips I’ve ever eaten and you didn’t actually need more than six chips each so it was ok.

But the very first thing we did was to jump on the Big Wheel.And then because we were so excited by the fact that the dodgy expensive souvenir photo came in a pack with a key-ring and a fridge magnet, we bought it.So I’ve put it up as this month’s blog picture. My mum is the tall one on the left and I’m the average height person on the right.I haven’t asked my mum’s permission to put this photo on the interweb so she might make me take it down….

Hahahahahahaha.

Thank you for all the lovely messages I keep getting. I have a confession to make.I’m really struggling to keep control of my inbox. If possible, please could you contact me via my facebook page for all your general lovely stuff.That would be lovely and massively appreciated.But again, thank you so much.Now I best get back to work because I am busy writing something very very interesting….

August Blog

2011-08-08T09:33:00.000+01:00

I need to apologise for being a bit quiet on my blog recently. Anyone who actually reads this may have spotted that there is no entry at all for July. There are two very good reasons for this. The first is that I have been writing. Frantically. Every spare moment available. For someone like me who tries to be a writer - this is actually a very good thing. The second very good reason is that I have been on holiday. Oh yes. Me and Mr Bloke have just returned from New York City. Or should I say we’ve just gotten back. Either way, it was utterly brilliant. I’ve only ever been to NYC once before and that was way back in 1991. I went out there aged 19 and came back aged 20 - suntanned, very scruffy and totally full of myself. It was the summer between my second and third years at university and I’d spent three months working on a summer-camp in the Catskill Mountains in Pennsylvania and, after that, I had one month to travel around. I met up with a girl called Dawn who was a friend of a friend of a friend at the same university as me and we worked our way pretty much clockwise around the USA. Along the way, we went to Washington DC and Fort Lauderdale and the Grand Canyon and San Diego and San Francisco and Salt Lake City and loads of other places as well but all I have are a few jumbled memories and a handful of poor quality photographs. The things that I do remember about that summer are pretty random – stuff like sleeping in airport lounges or on the beach and surviving on seven dollars a day because we’d run out of money – oh and I remember that me and Dawn didn’t really hit it off that well. I’m sure she won’t mind me saying this because it’s the truth. And anyway, she’s not likely to read this, is she? We were both very dignified about the situation. There were no arguments or touchy words or anything – just long silences where neither of us could be arsed to speak and an understanding that we’d never contact each other ever again once the summer was over.

So this visit to the US was quite a lot different. I was going with someone I actually liked – my husband – I had a little more than seven dollars a day to live on and I was a whopping 20 years older and wiser. And this time, rather than drifting all over North America, we were staying in an apartment in Brooklyn. It was fantastic. I love the place. I love Manhattan with its stupidly tall buildings and art deco weirdness and I really love Brooklyn too. Most visitors to NYC don’t even go there but Brooklyn is a fascinating destination of its own. And if it was separated from the rest of NYC, Brooklyn would still be the fourth biggest city in the USA. These are some of the reasons why I liked it so much.

Brooklyn has sky. In Manhattan, you have to hurt your neck just to see a tiny bit of it.
In Brooklyn, there’s a groovy place called Williamsburg. Williamsburg is especially nice because it has a record shop called Earwax and the girl who works there is really helpful and friendly. And when you’ve finished in Earwax, you can shuffle next door to a bookshop called Spoonbill & Sugartown and then, when you’ve finished there, you can waddle across to the road to a really lush café which does a very nice iced coffee and very nice cakes to go with it.
From what I saw, everybody gets along very nicely in Brooklyn. No matter what colour they are or what clothes they’re wearing or what hairdo they’re sporting, everybody seems to rub along without any grief.
One block from our apartment, there was a lush little café called The Bed-Stuy Daily Press. Apart from lush coffee, lush yoghurt and lush croissants, this had lush free wi-fi.
Shopping in Brooklyn is easier and less crowded in Manhattan and MY GOD, WERE THERE SOME BARGAINOUS TRAINERS TO BE HAD. I bought some nice Adidas ones. And then the next day, I saw some beautiful Puma ones. I didn’t buy those Pumas because I was strong. I regret that now.
From Brooklyn, you get really fantastic views of the Manhattan skyline. From Manhattan, you just don’t.
Prospect Park in Brooklyn is much more chilled out and emptier and prettier and wilder than Central Park – although, to be fair, Central Park is still very nice. And to be fair, Central Park has men selling chocolate ice-cream and PROSPECT PARK DID NOT!
In Brooklyn, we could afford to stay in an apartment. A little one, it’s true – but still an apartment. In Manhattan, we couldn’t have afforded to stay in a shed.
Brooklyn has an area called Dumbo. I didn’t actually go there – but the name alone makes me happy.
As I was about to go to the loo in a café in Brooklyn, someone said to me, ‘If yo gonna use that restroom, yo better hole yo nose cos that lass person steenked like a peeeeeeg!’ Nobody in Manhattan said anything halfway as interesting to me as this.

So there you have it! My ten reasons to love Brooklyn. But make no mistake, I loved Manhattan too. And in the photo you can see me standing outside the Algonquin Hotel which was the famous home of the writer Dorothy Parker and her vicious round table. We had dinner in there. It was nice!

Hello to everyone who has been emailing me. I WILL get back to you – I’m just a bit behind with everything. And don’t forget Lottie Biggs is Not Tragic is in shops now and also available from Amazon.

June Blog

2011-06-27T09:42:00.001+01:00

I like free stuff. And I like Pringles. So when I saw that you could send off for a free MP3 speaker if you scoff 3 cans of them, I did it. And I finally picked my speaker up from the post office yesterday. It’s neat. It fits into the top of a Pringles can and it’s LOUD. But really, I don’t know why I wanted it – other than that it was free. Because I actually bought a mini MP3 speaker the other month for £12.99. But actually, this one is heaps better. And, thanks to writing the Lottie Biggs books, I know precisely why it works so well.

At school, I hated science. But I was FORCED AGAINST MY WILL to do chemistry and physics and, for me, it was all a pointless waste of time. My only memories are of being constantly and deservedly told off for melting the lid of my biro in the Bunsen Burner flame, being given detention for accidentally breaking a Liebig Condenser (?) – ‘They cost over thirty pounds, you silly little girl!’ - and doing some very random experiments with a ticker-tape timer. At the end of 5th year – Year 11 in new money – I finished with a D in chemistry and don’t even remember what happened with physics. Which pretty neatly sums up my whole physics experience.

But bizarrely, when writing the Lottie Biggs books, I found myself returning to science. And I’ve learned quite a lot of stuff. Because Lottie hates science as well but she finds that Mr Thomas – her science teacher – actually tells her a lot of things which are interesting and relevant to her life. One of these things is why Elvis Presley sounds so loud when he sings through a traffic cone.

Well, I can tell you that it’s the same reason as why my tiny speaker sounds so much louder when you pop it into a Pringles can. And Mr Thomas would explain it something like this:

‘Well, Lottie, the most likely explanation is this. The small speaker is effectively using the Pringles can as an amplifier by making contact with it at one end and, therefore, causing it to vibrate. This then increases the efficiency with which the sound waves are transferred into the air and, thus, makes them louder. Does that answer your question? If you want to stay behind at break-time, I’ve got some interesting articles on the subject which you might like to read.

So physics is relevant to my life after all. And it’s only through Lottie Biggs that I’ve realised this. So thanks, Lottie. Now I understand why my free speaker works better than my £12.99 one.

On other matters, this month I had another visit to Liverpool where I met the lovely kids at St. Edward’s College. And again, I saw nothing whatsoever of the city so I’m going back in August with my mum and we’re going to go shopping and do the whole Beatles thing. Which is exciting. I also had another visit to London and caught up with Agent Yeeles and Editor Young again. And next month, I’ll be doing some stuff in a few Norfolk schools. But right now, I am writing. Thank Goodness For That.

Hello this month is to Thea Losa who lives in Macclesfield in Cheshire. A really lovely letter from her arrived through my letter-box today (25th June) but the letter is dated 30th November!!! I think it got lost in an office somewhere along the way. I am so sorry. THEA, I AM GOING TO WRITE BACK TO YOU ASAP.

May Blog

2011-05-31T09:34:00.004+01:00

This month I’m going to talk about driving. I like driving. Even though I know it’s a non-environmentally friendly thing to say, I have to admit that I like it better than sitting on a train. Don’t get me wrong, I like trains too but only if I’m travelling through somewhere interesting - like the Austrian Alps or Siberia. And only if I’m with someone else so that I don’t have to sit next to a random stranger and only if I’m in First Class. And as I’m rarely – if ever – going anywhere more interesting than Norwich to London and as I’m often by myself and as I can’t actually afford First Class unless it’s a weekend upgrade for a tenner, I prefer to sit in my car and drive. It’s less boring. And I can do things I can’t do on a train. Like talk to myself and sing out loud and chain-chew endless Starbursts without feeling that anyone is giving me looks of disgust. (This is only safely possible though if all the wrappers are removed before travelling in fifth gear down the outside lane of the M11 – otherwise it’s very dangerous.)

But the other day, I should have taken the train. I was travelling down to Surrey for the first ever Surrey Heath Literary Festival. It was a lovely event, held over a few days in Camberley, and it was especially interesting for me because I’d never been to that part of the world before - aside from Heathrow airport I suppose, but that’s probably not representative of the wider area. And once I was there I had a very lovely time - but getting there was like the plot of some really terrible comedy road novel thingy. With me as the fed-up, frustrated, frocked-off central character.

It took me five and a half hours to travel 180 miles!!!

If the wind was blowing in the right direction I could have got to New York quicker!

So first up, there I was whizzing down the A11 feeling pleased with myself for having a good head-start on the rush hour and then I realised the fast-approaching slow-moving traffic ahead of me was actually not moving at all. After slamming on my brakes, I was then stuck in a traffic queue for over an hour which was taking me on a diversion away from the direction I wanted. Apparently my direction was not possible because a lorry had shed its load of turkey livers all over the dual carriageway. This kind of thing only ever happens in East Anglia.

Eventually I picked up the right route again and was once again happily munching Starbursts and singing along to Random Play-all. And then I hit the M25. It was about five o’clock. I’ve driven on the M25 loads of times but I think it must always have been at a different time of the day.

It took me about 3 hours to go about 47 miles!

What’s the point of that?

I’m not sure that I got out of second gear once.

My Starbursts were all gone. My head was aching. I was starting to need the loo. And then Nancy Sinatra started singing ‘Bang Bang, I shot you down, Bang Bang, you hit the ground…’ It was a very bleak moment in my car. I had to shuffle Nancy on and look for something more cheerful. There aren’t many occasions these days that I want to listen to Technotronic but that was one of them.

Anyway, I have a plan to reduce traffic on the M25. Apart from emergency service vehicles, I think only black cars should be allowed to use it. This means that London taxis can still use it and hearses and statesmen like Barack Obama in his armour-plated ‘Beast’ and also me. Cars of other colours should be made to choose another route. M25 congestion problem solved.

I did get to Camberley eventually – feeling totally frazzled but was much cheered by a Thai curry in the lovely company of my agent, Agent Yeelesy of Pollinger, and her friend Nicky and Lesley Polinger herself. So thanks you three for unfrazzling me!

One last M25 related thought though. There’s a big flyover somewhere between the M4 turn-off and the Cambridge turn-off and someone has sprayed across it in massive letters GIVE PEAS A CHANCE.

Why?

How?

Please email me if it was you. I won’t tell the police or anything I’m just interested.

(By the way, I didn’t take that photo – that would have been as dangerous as unwrapping Starbursts. I’ve shared it from the internet. There’d be a million times more cars in the picture if I’d taken it.)

Hello this month to the kids at Collingwood College who I met in Camberley and also thanks once again to everyone who has sent me an email in the last month. If I haven’t replied to you yet I will.

P.S I’ve changed the picture of me on my home page to acknowledge the fact that I’ve got three years older.

2011-04-28T10:13:00.001+01:00

April began pretty badly; I was tucked up in bed feeling like a Brontë sister. Even for someone who writes, this is NOT a good thing. Emily and Anne died of Tuberculosis and poor little Charlotte fell off a horse, never felt quite the same again and passed away a few months later. So, ok, maybe I didn’t feel quite as rough and tragic as they did – but I did feel just about as rough and tragic as I wanted to. After an utterly dreadful March, to then get immediately struck down with some minging chest infection seemed to me a bit harsh.

Luckily though this minging state of affairs cleared up just in time for me to enjoy the Easter holidays and so I waved a temporary goodbye to Mr Bloke, got into my little car and zoomed across the width of Britain to visit my old friend Lynda in South Wales for some serious rest and recuperation and creative inspiration. Make no mistake, though, this was NOT a holiday. Oh no! This was strictly business. Lynda is a freelance artist (that’s one of her paintings by the way) and therefore she understands the challenges faced by those of us who attempt to get by living on our creative wits.

I’m talking about challenges such as learning the art of self-discipline and finding new inspiration.

It’s not easy, honest. Especially if you happen to be like me and self-discipline isn’t really your thing and inspiration can sometimes get swallowed up by a weakness for ‘Tombraider’.

Since finishing the Lottie books, I’ve had a (much needed ) break but breaks can’t go on forever. I know that it’s time I got my fingers dancing around my keyboard again pretty smartish. And hey, guess what? THEY’VE STARTED TO! Well… not so much as a dance as maybe a tentative shuffle but there’s definitely movement and I’m happy with that. Perhaps it was the solitude of being in the middle of nowhere with a view of hills out of the window which helped me back into that part of my head which generates all the words and ideas. Or maybe it was spending time with Lynda who spends hours and hours of her life looking at a square of canvas. Or maybe it was chatting to Lynda’s inspirational mates, Garry and Amanda, who earn their money making music (him) and making skincare products (her). Or perhaps it was just the late nights, big conversations and pub breakfasts.

I don’t know or really care what it was. All I know is that the month started badly and it’s ending a lot better. I’m getting ideas again. Which means that I’m once again susceptible to that occasional weird vacant look as my brain ignores where my body is and starts to work out possible plotlines. And, believe me, this really IS a good thing!

Hello this month goes to Karen Maitland, author of the wonderful ‘Company of Liars’, ‘Owl Killers’ and ‘The Gallows’ Curse’. I met her last week at an event in Norwich and she is LOVELY. Thanks as ever to all of you who’ve sent me sweet emails. If I haven’t replied yet, I will.

Below are some links to websites I like:

My friend Lynda the artist:
http://www.lyndajones.org.uk/

Amanda’s brilliant skincare products WHICH CURED THE ECZEMA ON MY HAND:h
ttp://www.sensitiveskincareco.com/

Karen Maitland the lovely writer:
http://www.karenmaitland.com/

PJ Harvey: JUST BECAUSE SHE’S SO BRILLIANT:
http://www.pjharvey.net/

I won’t lie to you…

2011-03-30T10:20:00.002+01:00

One way or another, March has been slightly rubbish. But on the upside, at least I can look out of the window and see that Spring has sprung. My garden has started to come back to life and the other day, I even spotted Irma the Bunny having a cheeky sneaky sunbathe. So hopefully, any moment now, my brain – which has been in hibernation for quite a few months - will spring back into action too and I’ll start getting some words and ideas popping back inside my head.

Another thing which really cheers me along is the lovely emails I receive from all over the world – or, at least, wherever there is a distributor of Lottie Biggs books. This month for some reason, I’ve had quite a few emails from Canada. The picture attached to this email is a poster which Emma, from Ottawa, sent me. Emma says she goes to a French school and made this poster as part of her book review of Lottie Biggs n’est Presque pas Cinglée. (That’s Mad Lottie to English readers). Thanks Emma – je pense que t’affiche est vraiment chouette!

Also, I need to mention another Canadian. Alexandra Lavoie who lives in Quebec City emailed me with a load of questions and said that she was giving a presentation about Lottie Biggs n’est presque pas Désespérée (Desperate Lottie) in her French class. She also needed some kind of evidence for her French teacher that she had actually properly contacted me so…. HELLO ALEXE! J’espère que ton presentation est allé bien!

Next month, I’m doing a couple of public events so DO come and say hello if you live nearby. On Saturday 23rd April I’ll be signing books and chatting to people as part of the G-Day Festival at St. Gregory’s Centre for the Arts in Norwich and on Saturday 30th April, I shall be at Gainsborough Community Library in Ipswich, Suffolk. SO DO COME ALONG AND SAY HELLO IF YOU CAN.

Support Your Local Library

2011-02-21T09:51:00.001Z

Ok, I’m about to get a bit deep and political again. Last time, it was because I was horrified by the idea that universities will soon no longer be equal in terms of the fees they can charge and, this time, it’s because I’m even more shocked by the public spending cuts which are threatening the existence of Britain’s libraries. In Suffolk alone, two-thirds of community libraries are currently under the threat of closure.

THIS IS AWFUL!

The Manic Street Preacher’s once famously sang, ‘Libraries gave us power.’ And they should know. They grew up in the small town of Blackwood, South Wales - an area well-known for its links to coal-mining. And, historically, these mining towns have a lot to teach us about how crucial libraries are in any truly democratic society. In the days when governmental measures to help the poor extended only about as far as shoving those who were starving into a workhouse, the provision of a decent education and access to books was never really high on the agenda. So the miners - who were receiving very low wages as it was - contributed to a communal fund in order that they could build their own Miners’ Institutes. These were basically privately funded libraries, and they gave the men who spent everyday underground doing a dangerous and dirty job the opportunity to access art and literature and also the legal knowledge and power to improve their position. It meant too that their children were provided with a room full of ideas of what they might want to do with their lives other than go underground.

During the late 19th century, the famous Scottish-American multi-millionaire Andrew Carnegie, did his bit for the people of Britain by coughing up loads of money to build hundreds of local libraries which would provide everyone, regardless of their background, with the opportunity to access books. His libraries are still being used today. Have a look at the one near you. If it looks old and it has the name Carnegie written over the door, it’s one of Andrew’s. I used to live around the corner from a lovely old Carnegie library in Canton, Cardiff. Andrew Carnegie said, ‘There is not such a cradle of democracy upon the earth as the Free Public Library.’ And if Canton Public Library is anything to go by, he was right. That place is full of all-sorts. Old people. Young people. Smart people. Scruffy people. Every time I ever went in, there were always all-sorts of people making all sorts of uses of it.

Because, it’s not just about borrowing books. It’s about access to the internet for those who haven’t got broadband at home. It’s about a quiet place to sit and type your CV or do your homework if you don’t have a room of your own. It’s about somewhere to read through the job sections of all the daily papers. It’s about providing people with the space they need and the information they need to pursue their dreams. And it’s also a safe, warm place to be.

Personally, I’d like to think some part of my council tax covers this. I think that’s all worth keeping. Because even though I no longer use libraries as often as I once did, a lot of people will always rely on them and I’d hate the thought that one day, that library might just not be there. Once they’re gone; we won’t get them back.

That was all deep. If you need some light relief, please click on this link which my friend Lloyd Robson sent to me the other day. He’s a mighty fine Cardiff poet and he’s also a man who likes muppets.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BVSvjOY4g4

I LOVE this clip.

Hello to everyone who has emailed me or sent me a facebook or twitter message. You all make me smile.

And the winners were....

2011-01-16T13:52:00.001Z

Remember I ended last year with a blog giveaway? Well, if you’ve forgotten, it must be because of all the extra partying you got up to over Christmas… because I promise you I definitely did.
And the winner of a whole load of signed stuff and an original illustration from Lottie Biggs is Not Desperate was [insert drum roll]

Fena Patel of London.

But – feeling cheered and reassured that this once-monthly blog does actually HAVE PLENTY OF READERS – I thought I’d package up a runner-up prize too, and that went to…[another drum roll please]

… the very sweet Rebecca Johansen in Denmark, who I am pretty certain is THE ONLY DANISH PERSON WHO I’VE EVER HAD AN EMAIL FROM – or indeed, had any form of communication with whatsoever.

So that’s an exciting first for me. Thanks Rebecca!

And thanks too to everyone else who entered the competition. If you wrote me a lovely note and asked me questions about what I’m up to and haven’t yet had a reply, please bear with me, I will reply to you at some point.

And also hello to Georgine who first got in touch with me about a year or more ago and got back in touch with me again the other day after reading Lottie… Desperate. Georgine is in Australia. To be honest with you, it completely weirds me out – in a nice way - to think that Lottie Biggs has reached that great big country on the other side of the world - even though I never have.

I must try and go there some time.

After a bit of a break, I’m back out visiting schools again this month. Next on my calendar are Sewell Park College and Notre Dame which are both in Norwich… which is lovely for me because that’s just the other side of my front door.
Christmas? I hope anyone reading this had a lovely one. Mine was ok. When you reach a certain age, it’s never ever going to be as exciting as it was when you were six and you got that Paddington Bear with REAL wellie-boots on his feet. But having said that, I did discover THE LOVELIEST HOTEL I’VE EVER STAYED IN! Massive room, massive T.V, maple syrup and pancakes for breakfast which made my stomach melt – in a good way – just looking at them. And they even parked my car for me when I – and Mr Bloke – arrived! I’ve stayed in one or two nice places. But this was totally my favourite. And there – in a nutshell – is the irony of life.

Because it was in Ipswich.

The place of my birth.

Not Paris. Not Vienna. Not Venice. No. I’ll say it again… Ipswich.

Anyway, for the record, it was called The Salthouse Harbour Hotel. The only reason I’m telling you about this is because I’m excited about it. Not because I own the hotel. Or know the person who does. Or because I’m doing that annoying thing of saying, ‘Blah blah blah… lush hotel… yadda yadda yadda…Aren’t I smug and gorgeous?’

Honestly, please don’t think I was doing that. It was in Ipswich, remember.

But, hey, Ipswich is a good place. And the football club now has a new manager so I see a golden era hitting that town, I really do.

2011.

Fingers crossed for a good one.

WIN SOME STUFF!

2010-12-15T11:03:00.004Z

Yes, it’s December again and I am as disorganised as ever. Presents need buying, cards need writing and the supermarket needs a serious visit. And because it’s Christmas, I’m in the mood to GIVE SOME STUFF AWAY. It’s also an ideal opportunity to find out whether anyone actually reads my blog!

In order to get your hands on a fat parcel which includes a signed copy of LOTTIE BIGGS IS NOT MAD and a signed copy of LOTTIE BIGGS IS NOT DESPERATE plus A SIGNED PIECE OF ORIGINAL ARTWORK and a copy of my Quick Read VINYL DEMAND all you have to do is drop me an email at contact@hayleylong.com which says Hi Hayley, I read your blog and I’d like to win that stuff you mentioned..

Easy Peasy.

You won’t receive this stuff in time for Christmas because I’ve left it too late to promise that BUT it’ll be a lovely present for mid-January when you’re cold and fed up and already starting to get bored of 2011. Closing date for emails is 10th January.

Unfortunately though, you can only play if you are in the UK, Ireland, France, Belgium, Norway or Denmark.

Have a happy Christmas and a great New Year.

haPPY chRISTmaS

NadOLig LlaWeN

jOYeuX nOëL

God JUL

GLædELiG jUL

Where It All Goes Ever So Slightly Political

2010-11-16T08:53:00.001Z

History fascinates me. It always has. It’s not the kings and the queens and the wars and the reform laws that buzz up my brain so much as it is trying to imagine the impact that these things had on the lives of the ordinary people who were around at the same time. I think, as a child, I took some sort of historic inspiration from my great-nana. Being born in 1900, we always said that Nana Lily was ‘as old as the years.’ It gave me an easy point of reference and helped me to remember interesting details and important dates. I could make sense of the first eighty-seven years of the twentieth century by measuring them against my great-grandmother’s life; she was a one year old baby when Queen Victoria died, twelve when The Titanic sank, a teenager during the war to end all wars - but then, when she was thirty-nine, she had to go through the whole miserable experience all over again…

And even though, my great-nana is no longer with us (to be fair, she’d be 110 now!), my interest in History still is. And what it’s taught me is that, for most of us, life is one great big lucky dip. We may think we are in control of our own affairs but we owe a massive amount to luck and circumstance. Take Shakespeare for example; he wrote fantastic plays. But only because he was born at exactly the right time. A decade or two earlier and he’d have lived in a society that knew virtually nothing about the new world, cared little for Greek and Italian poetry and was mostly occupied in avoiding being burned at the stake. A decade or two later and Oliver Cromwell would have closed all the theatres and put Shakespeare very definitely out of work.

So it’s pretty amazing and lucky then that although that creative window of opportunity was narrow, somebody incredible squeezed through it.

And now, with all that I’ve been seeing and hearing on the news, I can see that history handed me a window of opportunity too. At eighteen, I packed up my suitcase and left my home in Felixstowe to study for a degree in English at Aberystwyth University. (Yes, that’s me in the picture with uncombed hair and the date tippexed out in a failed attempt to forge new numbers so I could continue getting student discounts.) I had a fantastic time. I’m now rather ashamed to say that, without paying a single penny in fees, I did the bare minimum of work. But even so, the entire experience changed my life. It took me to the other side of Britain. It made me meet people from a whole range of geographical and social backgrounds. And it gave me the confidence to believe that I could do things in my own way. I’m absolutely sure that if I hadn’t gone off to Aberystwyth at eighteen years old, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to travel around America when I was nineteen or to work in France when I was twenty-one or Brussels when I was twenty-four, or any of those other places that I found myself in along the way. And I DEFINITELY, ABSOLUTELY wouldn’t have had the CONFIDENCE and SHEER AUDACITY to think that I could actually write a book…

And only now do I realise how kind history has been to me. I do not come from a family which has a tradition of sending its sons and daughters to university. When I was seventeen, I had to convince my parents that this was what I really wanted to do. Had I been born any earlier, there is no way that I’d even have contemplated the idea in my own mind. Girls like me left school at sixteen and got married and had babies and then, as my nana once put it - ‘got a little job to buy the jam to put on the bread which granddad buys.’

And if I were a sixth-former now, I just wouldn’t be able to afford all of those fees. I was brought up to avoid debt and not to pay for things on the ‘never never.’ The prospect of beginning my working life owing tens of thousands of pounds would have terrified me. And if I had gone, there’s no way I’d have dared to accrue such debt over an arts subject so I’d have confined my choices to something practical like Business Studies or Law - and only then at Felixstowe Primark University which has the cheapest fees. And all this would, of course, have bored me to death so I wouldn’t have gone.

Which means that had the same set of circumstances existed back then, I’d now be doing a little job in Felixstowe so that I can buy jam to put on someone else’s bread.

It’s a VERY VERY SCARY thought.

And I feel deeply sorry for the teenagers who are facing these options today. Obtaining a place at university should be based on merit NOT money. I definitely do not agree with mindless violence or the idiotic action of dropping a fire extinguisher from the top of an office block - but I can understand those students who are feeling moved enough to forget their manners. In the words of Clare Solomon, ULU President, ‘A few smashed windows cost nothing compared to a smashed education system and a smashed society.’

The history books may well show that 2010 was the year when higher education in the UK shifted from being an academic enterprise to a commercial one; I hope it doesn’t happen too easily though.

I shall now climb off my soap-box.

A special hello to all those LOVELY GORGEOUS GIGGLY girls at Weatherhead High School in the Wirral who were an ABSOLUTE PLEASURE to meet. And I’ve had LOADS of emails from people in the last month. Thank you to all of you.

Self-Portrait in a Joy Formidable T-Shirt

2010-10-07T10:42:00.001+01:00

I’m often asked if I am Lottie Biggs. The quick and easy response is NO, I’m definitely not. The more complicated and strictly accurate response is that whilst Lottie is undoubtedly an invention of my imagination, she and I do share certain characteristics. Even though Lottie is only fifteen and I’m not far off celebrating my twentieth birthday (for the second time), we look similar, we speak similar and we both occasionally lose composure in a strikingly similar manner. Although, I’d like to make it very clear that she loses composure a lot more strikingly than I do. Another similarity between us is that we both absolutely love pop music. Passionately. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that this whole book writing thing has merely been a convenient method of introducing pop’s rich heritage to impressionable young minds. So far I’ve worked Jimi Hendrix into my storylines. And Carole King. And Stevie Wonder. And… Oh is that it? I must try harder. I need to get The Smiths in there somewhere. And Aretha Franklin. And Blondie. And…
But musicians don’t necessarily have to be old or dead to make it on to my MP3 player. Admittedly, these days, there isn’t much that I like which can be described as new music – but there is some. A couple of summers ago, I was tucked up on the sofa watching coverage of a music festival on S4C (the Welsh language channel). It’s quite possible that I was actually the ONLY PERSON IN THE WHOLE OF EAST ANGLIA who was watching S4C at that moment. To be fair, not that many people watch it even in Wales. But – like Lottie – I love S4C because I find it relaxing. Being unable to understand a single word makes it far less likely that I’ll get annoyed and start shouting at my television. So there I was, in Norfolk, watching a music festival on Welsh language television when I saw a set by a young band from Wrexham called The Joy Formidable. They stood out amongst all the other festival usuals. They looked clean. They weren’t stubbly blokes wearing check shirts and THEY SOUNDED BRILLIANT.

And last week they were in Norwich, so I bought a ticket. Actually, I bought two tickets because I made my husband come and see them with me. I was worried that we’d be the only sad old people there but actually we weren’t. Standing at a respectful distance from the stage and kitted out with tinnitus-preventing ear-plugs were a number of ageing hipsters like ourselves. And after all, why not? Why shouldn’t we stand alongside the kids and tap our feet to the very loud beat of pure youthful exuberance? The Smiths were young when we liked them. And Jimi Hendrix. And Blondie – although actually, Debby Harry was never really all that young, was she?

Anyway, The Joy Formidable were young, Welsh and fab. And they’ve got an album coming out soon. And I still don’t think they’re signed to a big label or anything. Find out more about them here

Now, how can I work them into my next plot?

Loads of people have been emailing me and writing to me recently. Thank you very much. I always love to get your messages and hello to you all. On Saturday (9th Oct) at 2pm, I’ll be in the Norwich Millennium Library so do drop by and say hello if you live nearby.

And yes, mum; I’ve had my haircut.

Why I Love Sue Townsend

2010-09-13T10:44:00.005+01:00

When I was in second year of high school (that’s Year 8 in new money), Mr Tanner, my form teacher, handed us all a leaflet for the school’s book club. Being the kind of kid who never passed on an opportunity to get her hands on new reading material, I examined the leaflet very carefully before putting a tick next to the book of my choice. It was something I’d never heard of. But it sounded quite funny. And also – and more interestingly – it sounded SCANDALOUSLY rude.

It was The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole aged 13 ¾

I chose well. It’s one of the few books from my childhood that I’ve kept.

Back then – 1984 – there wasn’t a huge choice of teen reading like there is now. The selection was pretty much limited to the boring stuff – often about nuclear war – which you were forced to read in your English lessons OR Wildfire Romances. These were imported from America and the plot always involved a highly-strung high school beauty in junior freshman year who dumps the baseball ‘jock’ to take a risk on an interesting bespectacled loser who only ever wears black. Fortunately, the risk always paid off because the speccy weirdo turned out- every time - to be a real nice guy with the looks of a Greek god.

I didn’t know what a junior freshman was. Or a baseball jock. But I read these books anyway. For a second year pupil in comprehensive school in Felixstowe in 1984, there wasn’t anything else to read.

And then – Thank God! – Sue Townsend wrote Adrian Mole. And I am convinced that she wrote it for ME. Instead of reading about beautiful rich kids in L.A, I had the joy and relief of reading about Adrian’s crap life in Ashby-de-la Zouch (Leicestershire) and his crap high school filled with crap people like the crap bully, Barry Kent. I understood all this perfectly. And then there was Pandora - outspoken, feisty and inflicted with dental braces. These were REAL people living in the REAL world. And they were MY age. In 1984, the pride of winning the Decorate Your Bike in Patriotic Colours competition at our Charles and Di street party was still fresh in my memory. I therefore recognised Adrian and Pandora’s own street party experience and I shared Adrian’s disappointment when his sparkler failed to work during the celebratory fireworks display.

And I’ve stuck with Adrian ever since. I feel like I know him. We’ve grown up together. And now, in Sue Townsend’s latest book, Adrian Mole – The Prostrate Years – he’s nearly forty and so, nearly, am I.

And Sue Townsend STILL makes me laugh out loud and engages me in a way that those predictable American teen romances never did and never will. The jokes don’t come easily though; poor Adrian is seriously ill at the moment and undergoing chemotherapy treatment. His hair has fallen out, he’s constantly knackered and – to top it all – his wife has left him for a rich floppy-haired idiot. I’m about two-thirds of the way through his diary and I’m almost praying for one of those predictably positive endings that always concluded the Wildfire Romances. And yet… and yet, amongst all this misery, there is magnificence. Sue Townsend’s eye for observation has not dimmed – even though her eyesight sadly has. When trying to book an appointment with his doctor, Adrian phones up at 7.59 and is told – before the receptionist hangs up on him- to ring back at 8.00. He does but is unable to get through again because the line is busy. Meanwhile, his mum is busy writing A Girl Called Shit - her memoirs of her miserable childhood in Norfolk, and his sister is about to appear on The Jeremy Kyle Show, to establish once and for all, the identity of her biological father.

This is Britain. Unsweetened and undisguised. Sometimes it’s weirder than fantasy.

When I was twelve, I was surprised, excited and extremely grateful that Sue Townsend thought it was worth writing about. I still am and I’ll love her books forever.

Before I go, I’d just like to say hello to Danielle and Demi who both sent me lovely emails this week and also to Pieta who WROTE ME A LETTER!!! Wow!!! I haven’t had an actual, real-life, written-on-paper letter for years. It took me back to the days when I was a student and spent half my time scribbling and drawing notes to my friends which I’d then put in the post. Mobile phones and email and Facebook is all well and good but NOTHING beats the excitement of a hand-written envelope with your own name on it. Thank you very much Pieta for reminding me of that.

Snowdon

2010-08-10T16:03:00.002+01:00

When I was nine I walked up to the summit of Snowdon with my dad and my brother. The whole experience must have made quite a big impression on me because I can still remember an awful lot about that day even though it is now thirty years later. I can remember that I was proudly wearing my own pair of brown walking boots with crazy laces and I can remember that the day was long and hot and that we stopped to splash around in one of the three lakes which our path passed and I can remember too that we were all practically on our hands and knees crawling up the final ‘zig-zag’ towards the mountain’s summit. And then when we got to the top, it was completely misty and we couldn’t see anything. And I sat on a rock and ate my packed lunch and discovered, only after I’d bitten into it, that there was a maggot in my apple – and this had freaked me out so much that I’d chucked it over the side and into the mist and immediately been told off by my dad for potentially braining some poor unfortunate walker further down the mountain.

This month – thirty years on from that first ascent – I did it again. A few things had changed. I was with my husband. There was no sunshine – only some heavy grey clouds. My route was different. Despite me repeatedly saying, ‘I need to go up the Miners’ Track and down the Pig Track because that’s what I did last time,’ we went up the Llanberis Track. On the day, being slightly ill-prepared, it was the only track we could find. It’s supposed to be the easiest. But twenty minutes into the five-mile climb, it started raining. Cold horizontal rain. In late July. This wasn’t how I remembered it. Where was the boiling hot sun? Where was the splashing around in a lake? And, actually, where the heck were the lakes? We didn’t see any. In fact, we didn’t see anything! The heavy grey clouds came down lower – or else we got up a bit higher – and it was all we could do to stay on the path and not go stumbling off around the mountainside inspiring a call to Snowdonia Mountain Rescue and an embarrassing slot on the Wales Today news programme. Every now and then we’d see these spooky shapes coming towards us in the mist and they’d reveal themselves to be healthy red-faced walkers, kitted out with hiking poles and breathable water-resistant clothing. We had jeans on. Dripping soaking jeans. And I did have a North Face ‘waterproof’ jacket on but I can’t say I was impressed with it. Our boots were good though. I didn’t have any crazy laces on this occasion but I did feel that same old ‘Damn it, my boots are mighty fine,’ kind of pride that I’d felt at the age of nine.

Eventually we got to the top, edged our way in the mist towards the brand new Summit of Snowdon Café and realised with disgust that it was filled to bursting with all the lazy people who had ridden up on the steam train. And so I queued up for the loo, warmed myself up with the hand-dryer and promptly began the five mile descent back to the car. But as we were walking, something amazing happened. The cloud lifted. And we could see for miles and miles across Snowdonia. And it confirmed the suspicion I’ve had since the age of nine that

Wales

is quite possibly one of the most beautiful places on earth.

Hello this month to Kazia and also to all the lovely kids at Notre Dame School in Norwich.

Hammer Time!

2010-07-15T10:22:00.003+01:00

It’s July and I’m a whole year older. When I was in school I hated having a July birthday because it meant that I was younger than practically every one else in my class – but as I’ve got older, I’ve started to really enjoy the fact that I can delay the inevitable age increase until the second half of the year - and now, to be blatantly honest, I’D QUITE LIKE TO CANCEL MY POXY FLIPPING BIRTHDAY ALTOGETHER. Although having said that, it’s not all bad because my mum gave me Wii Just Dance and it’s brilliant. I’ve discovered that I have a very natural and real ability to dance like MC Hammer and this blog probably won’t be a very long one because any minute now, I’m going to turn this computer off, switch the Wii on and start throwing my funky shapes around the living room.

But first, I should tell you what I’ve been up to this month. So let’s see. I’ve watched the World Cup. And I’ve watched the World Cup. And in between matches, I’ve been mulling over ideas for my next novel. In order to help me mull things over a bit more clearly, I visited London the other weekend and walked around Kilburn, Willesden and Cricklewood for several hours until my feet were ready to fall off and my brain was suffering from mulling-things-over-fatigue. I think it did the trick though because my head is now bursting with ideas. I also popped into the Willesden Library Centre and the Willesden Green bookshop and had a few sentimental moments to remind myself of the happy moments I spent in both these places when I lived on Willesden High Road in the WORST FLAT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.

I’ve also been meeting loads of Norfolk school kids in writing workshop events this month– hello to Stalham, Cromer, Broadland and North Walsham high schools and next week, I’ll be meeting pupils from Notre Dame School in Norwich. And then I shall be driving with my bloke all over Wales to see a few hills and a few of my friends and a few more bookshops. Oh, I can’t wait….

Congratulations to Sophie Kenyon who won the www.mykindabook prize of £100 of Top Shop vouchers for her suggestions for the third Lottie book and a special hello to Naomi who sent me such a very sweet email on the day of my birthday.

Hello also to Ria in London who sent me a blog award. Have a look at Ria’s own completely brilliant book blog at www.thebeaucoupreview.blogspot.com

Anyway, I need to go now because it’s Hammer Time!

Red Pandas and Stuff

2010-06-17T10:59:00.003+01:00

This is the month that I discovered the Red Panda. If I hadn’t been taken on a day trip to Banham Zoo in Norfolk, I might never have discovered the existence of these very sweet little animals. They are very sweet and cuddly and have ginger bodies, black legs, stripey tails and white ears. In fact, they look like they’ve been made from bits of fluffy material bought in a remnant shop. The sign on their enclosure told me that they are mild-mannered and secretive and they like to spend most of the day sleeping. I really like them and think that if we all tried to behave a bit more like Red Pandas, the world would probably be a lot less stressful. Although it would probably be quite hard to get anything much done.
What else?

Had an interesting drive to Toppings bookshop in Ely the other day. The A11 was closed so I had to rely on Mrs Voice the SatNav woman and she took me on a very interesting route through the middle of Thetford forest and the Fens… and then I met Lotte (not to be confused with Lottie) at Toppings and signed some books and had a cup of tea which was nice.

And now I’m mostly just watching the World Cup. Every single game I can. And eating crisps and sitting about. The loud buzzy fly sound is getting on my nerves though.

Well done to Dzesika who won the Lottie artwork competition and also thanks to Ria who organised this.

And hello to Ellen who dropped me a cheery email the other day all the way from Perth.

I’m off now to watch North Korea vs Brazil. Come on North Korea!

2010-05-20T12:30:00.003+01:00

Oooh, it’s been an interesting month. So let’s see. Finished A’ level marking, nagged my sixth-formers to within an inch of their lives, planted potatoes in vegetable patch, took Bunny to the vets for her annual health check-up and booster jabs, watched all six episodes of Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy in ‘Pride and Prejudice’, read a book about Stevie Wonder, wrote a review about it, wrote an essay about the Brontë sisters, tried and failed to get fit… oooh, and FINISHED THE FIRST (GOOD) DRAFT OF MY THIRD LOTTIE BOOK.

So then I took it to London and handed a copy over to Agent Yeeles and the lovely peeps at Macmillan. And those very same lovely people at Macmillan GAVE ME A T-SHIRT WITH A CHINCHILLA ON IT.

Because they are blatantly stylish.

And in an effort to show them that it fits, I’ve just gone upstairs, stood in front of my bedroom mirror and taken a photo of myself. Please excuse the messy hair and the tired expression but I’ve just got home from my teaching job. Also, I’m getting old and the cracks are beginning to show….

On another exciting note, Lottie Biggs is Not Desperate has been long-listed for the Young Minds Book Award and I am WELL CHUFFED. So I’m keeping my fingers crossed that me and Lottie can sneak on to that short list… because if anyone should be on a short list it’s me. (5ft 1)

Oh, and if you’re under 18 and reading this, don’t forget to help me out by nominating me in the Queen of Teen awards.
http://www.queenofteen.co.uk/

WIN A SIGNED SKETCH FROM ONE OF MY LOTTIE BIGGS BOOKS by checking out The Beaucoup Review here.

Ta. Nice one. That’d do lovely ;-)

2010-04-01T12:00:00.003+01:00

At last, I’ve made it to the end of my way massive pile of A Level marking and now I’m just racing against the clock to get my Lottie 3 book up to scratch before I hand it over. I’m nearly there – just giving it the final dust-down. In the middle of all this, I did find some time for a break though. I took my mum with me to Yorkshire so that I could have a walk around the house where the Brontë family lived and where Charlotte, Emily and Anne dreamed up their plotlines filled with love and ghosts and mad women locked up in the attic. I was hoping some of their genius might somehow rub off on to me but sadly I don’t think it has. Then we went shopping in Leeds and used the hand-cream in the loos at Harvey Nicholls.

And now I’m back in Norwich and waiting to hear what the world thinks of Lottie 2 (Lottie Biggs is not Desperate). It’s officially available from May 7 but last week, I got a nice surprise when I saw a whole stack of them on the shelf in WH Smiths. I looked at them for a minute or two and then I gently tickled their spines and sloped away before anyone could accuse me of being weird.

Don’t forget to help me conquer the world and vote for me in the Queen of Teen elections.
http://www.queenofteen.co.uk/

Thanks :)

Hope everyone had a Happy Easter!!

2010-03-31T12:00:00.003+01:00

The other day I was at my mum’s house and she’d been sorting through a load of junk and had a big pile of stuff to throw out. Amongst all this was some ancient stuff of mine. Not very interesting stuff really. Certainly nothing that was going to make me an Ebay millionaire. Most of it – things like a Shakin’ Stevens album and my O’level Maths certificate (Grade D) weren’t worth saving and I gave it straight back to her. But I did rescue a hand-made Easter card, I’d made once at school. I’ve got no memory of making it but I suppose I must have done because I’ve signed my name in it. Judging from the quality of the Easter Bunny on the front and the handwriting inside, I guess that I was about four when this was made. It’s nice to see that between then and now, I have at least learned how to spell my name properly.

Hellos this month to Amber and Emily.

Ah…. Vienna!

2010-02-28T12:21:00.003Z

Ah Vienna indeed. After enjoying a brief visit to this city last summer, my bloke and I headed back there during February half-term to enjoy more of the city’s sights and to celebrate his birthday in grand style. Which we did do! We wore our shoes out wandering around in the frost and snow, ate twice our bodyweight in apfelstrudel and sachertorte (well I did anyway), marvelled at the magnificence and quantity of Austrian moustaches and nodded our heads appreciatively in front of the occasional Klimt.

It was brilliant. So brilliant, in fact, that we want to go back. I’d fit in well there. I’d get myself an expensive shoulder bag, buy a little dog to carry around in it and generally be as cheerful as chips!

But the truth is - ich bin Schriftstellerin und Lehrerin. And that roughly translates as: Stop dreaming, Hayley, about wandering around Vienna with a little dog in a shopping bag and get your finger out and finish writing your book and mark some A level coursework.

Boo!

I work very hard but I’m lazy ;-)

But I have seen the finished pages for book 2. Hooray. They look beautiful. In fact, they are miracles of rare device and sunny pleasure-domes with caves of ice.

This month’s hello goes once more to Tracy and Melissa who took good care of Mrs Bunny while I was away – and also to my friend Kirsty who works very hard but is lazy too. Oh and also, a big hello to the girls at Weatherhead School in Wirral who I shall be visiting later in the year.

It’s all takin’ and no givin’...

2010-01-28T09:09:00.004Z

Maybe for you, Dolly, but for the rest of us, it’s give, give give. I’m knackered! And it’s only January! I don’t think much of 2010 so far. The sun never shines, I’m so freezing cold that my fingers are falling off and I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF TO DO that I can barely breathe. Stuff like extracting A Level coursework from my students. Then marking it. And editing and organising a creative writing magazine for them. And reading entries for a writing competition. And reading over the page proofs of Lottie Biggs is Not Desperate. And eating. And somewhere…. Somehow… I need to FINISH ANOTHER NOVEL.

Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Although, I have to say, that Lottie 3 is on its way. Definitely on its way.

However, in all of this frantic hectic schedule, January provided me with one moment of relief. I managed to pull myself away from the computer / coursework / Wii for a day and finally got to meet Inkymole – aka Sarah – who draws the covers of my Lottie books. She’s the same age as me and as she, too, spends a lot of time in her house I thought we’d have a few things in common. As my train made its way to Leicester, I was a bit nervous though. You read about these kind of email meetings all the time, don’t you. What if I arrived at Leicester station and Inkymole turned out to be a 65 year old Texan cowboy who wanted to marry me???

But it was all fine. I knew immediately we’d get on. And sure enough, we were soon eating chips in ‘Crusty’s’ and discussing our shared love of jeggings and Ugg boots.

By the way, this month’s photo is of Leicester’s number one tourist attraction – Gary Linekar’s dad’s fruit and veg stall on Leicester market. Apologies for the poor picture quality – this is what happens when you sulkily demand to be shown the cheapest thing in the shop.

And this month’s hello is going to Clotilde in Montreal who provided me WITH ACTUAL HARD EVIDENCE THAT SOMEONE OTHER THAN MY MUM READS THIS.

Nice one. Salut Clotilde et merci.

Sneeze Cough Sniff

2010-01-05T15:21:00.003Z

Oh…oh… I’m a bit slow as usual but I’d like to wish anyone reading this a fantastic new year and I hope too that you had a fab Christmas. I had a lovely time beating my brother at Wii skydiving and wakeboarding and then I let him win at archery so that he didn’t get too sulky. After that it all went massively downhill because I got flu and felt as ill as the illest person in the whole of Illinois. Totally rubbish. But Lottie Biggs will be keeping me busy in 2010 - I’ve still got a third Biggsy book to finish and a second Lottie book, Lottie Biggs is Not Desperate, IN SHOPS IN MAY!

And my first ‘hello’ of 2010 goes to Catherine in France who wrote about Lottie Biggs n’est presque pas Cinglée in her French classes and tested my own dodgy French with her cheerful emails and questions. Et maintenant, je peux parler comme une ado francaise, chouette ou quoi?

Secret Mission in Wrexham

2009-11-30T20:00:00.001Z

The other weekend, my bloke and I drove 250 miles across country for a fun city break in Wrexham! Well…not so much a city as a modestly-sized town and not so much of a break as a serious research project. We were on a fact-finding mission to gather interesting details to help with the progress of the third Lottie Biggs book – which, I can reveal, will feature the North Wales town of Wrexham at some point towards its close.

The rough guide told me that ‘Wrexham has a curiously boisterous charm.’ I agree. And the people we met were all absolutely lovely too. It’s just a shame that their town was being invaded that day by BNP supporters and the necessary riot police but we took the advice of the nice helpful man in the bank who told us ‘to take care of yerselves, yeah?’ and stayed well out of the way.

From Wrexham, we drove in the rain to Llangollen and discovered, to our delight, the most incredible second hand bookshop in the whole world. It’s above a café and - as far as I could make out – it’s simply called ‘Café and Books.’ You know where you are with a sign like that! As usual though, I got choice paralysis in the book shop and saw so many books I wanted that I couldn’t choose which to get. In the end, I settled for a ridiculously out-of-date travel guide called ‘An Insight to the USSR’, had a ridiculously cheap cup of tea and went away happy.

This month I’m saying hello to my Creative Writing Gang at Paston College, Norfolk, who give me loads of ideas every Wednesday afternoon and also to Georgine in Australia who wrote about ‘Lottie Biggs’ for her English assignment and GOT AN A+. HOORAY!!! GO GEORGINE!!

From Cardiff to Krakow

2009-10-31T12:00:00.005Z

The month of October began in Cardiff and ended in the Polish city of Krakow. Cardiff was all about running creative writing workshops, reading bits from Lottie Biggs and meeting lots of Year 10 students, and Krakow was mostly about wandering around a chilly and very beautiful mediaeval city and eating cake in cosy cafés. Both experiences were interesting in their own different ways. Cardiff surprised me with how much it has changed in the two years since I moved from living there and Krakow made my jaw drop because it is so incredibly picturesque. For some reason though, I was more drawn to the grotty graffiti. I think it’s because I’m a scruffy city pigeon at heart. Or maybe it’s because of the fascinating things graffiti tells us about the world. Like the fact that the Polish gave us Copernicus, Chopin and Max Factor and we, in return, gave them the word hooligans.

This month I’m sending my hello to Cardiff - and in particular, to Mrs Sanders’ Year 10 English Class who all wrote me lovely letters after I met them. I really appreciated it. Thank you.

Now to get my head down and write a bit more of Lottie 3…

Rabbit Riches!!!!

2009-09-30T12:00:00.013+01:00

Last Friday, clutching a copy of my latest manuscript in my hands, I caught the train to London to talk about some serious WRITER STUFF over a lovely lunch. My lunch meeting was with Emma - the editor I am working with from Pan Macmillan - and Agent Yeelesy who looks after me from Pollinger Literary Agency. Neither Agent Yeelesy nor me had actually ever met Emma before and we were both very happy to discover that she is extremely sweet and lovely and actually even HALF FRENCH!

After Emma left us, Agent Yeelesy and I enjoyed a nice drink in the sunshine. Feeling lucky, I was suddenly overcome by the urge to gamble an entire pound on a scratch card. Everyone knows that scratch cards are for fools and this is probably why I feel comfortable with them. I won five pounds! Immediately, I swapped my winning card for five more scratch cards called RABBIT RICHES and this time, I had two winning cards!!! For one pound each!!! So I’ve kept one and Agent Yeelesy has the other one and hopefully one or other or both of us will swap it for a card which will win us heaps of money so we can run away and live in the sun.

In other rabbit news, Bunny Irma is malting heavily at the moment and it is impossible to pick her up without breathing in clouds of fluff – which is not nice.

Later this week, I’m off to Cardiff to do some writing workshops with the kids there and I’m very much looking forward to seeing my old friends and having a mooch around one of my favourite places on the planet J

This month I’m saying HELLO to my English students at Paston College, Norfolk who all did so marvellously in their A Levels and also a big HI to Clair in Llanishen and SALUT to Anaïs in Belgium.

In WH Smiths I was nineteen....n-n-n-n-n-n-nineteen

2009-08-31T12:00:00.002+01:00

And this month’s blog is a good one because it’s holiday time! To celebrate my freedom, I whizzed off to South Wales in my bumpy new car and picked up my friend Lynda for a girly drive around Cymru. En route, I stopped at a service station on the M6 to see if Lottie Biggs was available in the shop and was pleased to see that she had crept into the top 20 of kids’ / teen fiction at number 19. I was so chuffed I took a sneaky photo. 19 is loads better than 20.

Once I’d collected Lynda, we drove over some hills and by some ruined abbeys and reservoirs until we got to Aberystwyth and then we knocked on Gwen’s door and asked to borrow the keys to her caravan. Luckily she said yes because she’s generous and kind and then all three of us drove to the middle of nowhere and ate fish and chips and I drove my car around the world’s scariest uphill sheer-drop hair-pin bend back to the caravan and, thankfully, we all lived to tell the tale.

Then when we’d said bye to Gwen, me and Lynda drove northwards until we were up in the mountains and Lynda took loads of photos of the landscape so that she could paint it and I took loads of photos of sheep because I felt like it and then we drove back to South Wales and ate some more fish and chips and then I drove home back to Norwich.

Then, me and my husband flew off to Budapest and he spoke lots of Hungarian because he’s such a clever-clogs and I read some books and swam around in a lake and then we had a quick visit to Vienna and then we came home.So it’s been good! But before I go, I’d just like to mention Griffri in Aberystwyth who is so completely cool that he read Lottie Biggs IN PUBLIC – even though he’s blatantly a boy. And Meg who sent me a couple of very entertaining emails. And Vanessa from Manchester who chatted to me about the Twilight books while we were both on a bus to Vienna. And Melissa who did such a fab job of looking after Irma bunny while I was gone.

More in a month…

Blog Launch

2009-07-31T12:00:00.005+01:00

…And FINALLY I’ve sat myself down and had a go at writing a blog. I should just warn you I’ve never done a blog before. Or a diary. Or a journal. So I’m not really sure quite how this is going to turn out. But what I do know is that it’s been an interesting month so far. I’ve skulked around town seeing which shops have put Lottie Biggs is Not Mad on special promotions, watched the entire dvd box set of Life on Mars, grown a whole year older (nooooooo!) and finished the twenty-eighth draft of my next novel Lottie Biggs is Not Desperate. Oh, and I’ve also been digging up my fine crop of back garden potatoes and listening to a lot of Adam and the Ants.

And today I heard that the lovely people in Norway are going to translate Lottie into Norwegian!!!! I reckon it was all those references to Edvard Munch that did it for them…

Now I need to start thinking about what I’m going to write next. Which means a trip to Aberystwyth for SOME SERIOUS THINKING TIME is in order!