OK, if you’re going to be picky, it’s a tad early for actual roses, but metaphorically speaking I had a very pleasant few days’ downtime last week, thanks for asking. I read three and a half books in five days, ate far too much excellent food, including some sinfully delicious ice cream, watched a sunset, walked a few cliff paths, caught up with some old friends – and summer did actually arrive while we were enjoying the Guernsey calm, though clearly on its way to somewhere else since it’s now departed again.
But six days have passed since we left the island, and it all seems long ago and far away. ’Twas ever thus with holidays.
First on the post-break agenda was CrimeFest, the UK’s answer to Bouchercon, which went off with its usual aplomb in Bristol last weekend. Crème de la Crime has been actively involved ever since it began as a relocated Left Coast Crime back in 2006; this year we were a little less active, but several names from our list popped up on panels.
Profile-raising aside, it’s an opportunity to catch up with people who were once just names on book covers but these days I can count as friends. I can hardly believe that at the first crime convention I attended, I wandered aimlessly feeling like the new girl on her first day at school; these days I don’t walk five yards without getting a hug, or at least a hi, from someone. As I’ve probably said a few times before, crime writers are such nice people. I think they must get all the dark side of their personalities out into the books.
This year we even managed a creditable score in the pub quiz, having come ignominiously last for the past two years – though most of our new-found success was down to the brilliant Ali Karim, who has forgotten more about crime fiction than I’ll ever know. Ali and a few other reviewers and fans with similarly encyclopaedic knowledge had been banned from forming their own team again because they kept winning (what a terribly British thing to do, methinks), so they attached themselves individually to others, and the Creme team drew a long straw for a change. Though he didn’t do it all by himself; he didn’t know that P J Tracy was two people – and neither did the team which eventually won, so I enjoyed a private little glow of pride there!
And now it’s back to the daily round. We came back on Saturday night and I’ve already run a promotion event and booked two more, proofread a quarter of a manuscript, reviewed a play for the moonlight job, deleted several reams of spam and dealt with a pile of submissions – as well as all the boring domestic stuff and the small mountain of other jobs which seem to fill 95% of the time. I wish I knew why it is that I plan each day’s tasks meticulously, but most days somehow don’t get around to looking at the plan till three in the afternoon.
And if I don’t take care, it’s going to happen today as well. So I’ll stop burbling and get on with some work!
