Aren’t computers wonderful things? Well maybe not. Still struggling at this end but in a fit of total unselfishness and total dedication I am blogging anyway and if it never reaches another soul, at least my conscience is clear.
My new Windows 10 now houses programmes that refuse to let me in unless I give them my password every single time – to my email, to this site, to Facebook and it won’t let me into Twitter at all.
To add insult to injury Amazon went down too, and I was unable to do my regular 5 minute check to see how many books I had not sold.
Which reminds me, I’ve not mentioned that Amie 2 – ‘Amie and the Child of Africa’ – is up for pre-order. She is actually ready to go, but the idea is if there are a huge number of downloads on publication day October 16th then she will go to number 1 paid on Amazon. OK, I don’t believe that either, but it was worth a try. Anyway, for those of you reduced to reading the back of the cereal packet here is the link. A few early readers have said some very nice things about book 2 and I need to make sales to pay them.
I often wonder what the heck I am doing putting in all these hours to sell a few books. The chances of making it big must be millions to one, and despite DH cheerfully announcing to me that yet another of my competitors had died – sadly Jackie Collins has passed away – (Does he really think I’m in that league?), personally, I think he was just being sarcastic.
“Jackie Collins – The Power Trip” by Cyotethndr – I took this photo of my boss, Jackie Collins, with her new book for her Wiki page.
I somehow can’t imagine Jackie Collins or the Frederick Forsythe’s of this world checking their downloads every few minutes can you?
However, this morning I was going to comment on a couple of things I do as a writer and lots of other people do too and it’s really infuriating.
Choosing names for characters is fun, especially if I remember that spiteful girl who lead the ‘in group’ at school – you know the one I never stood a chance of getting into. That will be the perfect name for my villain. And you can bring her to a really sticky end, mangle her up, make her suffer etc.
Of course most books have several people in them but have you noticed their names often begin with the same letter? The hero is Bill and his friend is called Ben. The main lady is Charlotte who is friends with Christine, whose mother is called Caroline whose hairdresser was baptized Cynthia who is living with her partner Coleen, who unknown to anyone has a bit on the side called Coreen who lives in Colchester.
If, like me you are now challenged in all directions, it takes a few moments to work out who is doing what to whom and where.
I know I’ve done it myself, and had to go back and do the ‘find’ thing to change a name – or not. I’ve just realized Amie fostered Angelina. See, I’ve proved my point – and I never got round to changing either of them.
The other appalling thing I do is to have a particular adjective / adverb stuck in my brain and this comes out in every other sentence. She was fearless, …. he fearlessly, … they ignored their fear when they… and so on. It’s not until you read it through you realize that today’s word has been written to death. Then it’s out with the Thesaurus. Mine is falling apart. I took it off the shelf the other day and the interior landed at my feet in separate pages and then blew all over the floor. I’m not sure my vocabulary will ever be the same.
Nel Gwyn’s life wasn’t the same once she met King Charles. She is known to have had a fetish for oranges, but this is not really fair as she was hired to sell oranges outside the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane.
She later acted on stage and we must assume that Charles liked her acting skills and maybe a few of her other skills as well?
Her friend the Duke of Buckingham managed her love affairs and was keen to pair her off with the King, but apparently Nel asked for £500 a year, and proved far too expensive. That’s top rates even for today.
The Duke was determined to in supplant Barbara Palmer the mistress at that time. Charles had several of them, he had to remind people he was The Merry Monarch’.
Finally the King finally noticed Nel and invited her to supper, sadly leaving her with the bill. But, as they say, things continued from there.
I promised you a pic of Nel in all her glory, and as a bonus here are two of them. Both painted by well known artists of the day and highly regarded as art and not porn.
Charles commissioned this secret painting by Lely and urban legend says it was hung over his bed – an early version of Playboy I suppose.
Apparently Samuel Pepys hung a copy of this over his desk at the Admiralty!
Come on, you didn’t expect anything really naughty from an author who can’t even write a sex scene did you?