The year came to an end on a creative high. Not only had I been published in the Suffolk Writer’s group anthology, A Tapestry of poetry, and been to a beautiful book launch to perform some work, I’d also finished my second full collection of poetry, That Little Voice, and received all the beautiful illustrations and cover, which I have previewed in a previous blog post, from the wonderful Lyn Stuart, an illustrator who seems to be able to paint and draw what I can see in my head. We’ve never met in real life, so we have a bit of a Bernie/Elton thing goin’ on by post, which is wonderful. I’d also become a contributor to Urban Pigs Press, formed by the talented James Jenkins and Bam Barrow, who really champion my work and whose books I shall be writing about in a follow-up post. They are producing a charity anthology called ‘Hunger’, which is to aid Families In Need (FIND, Suffolk). UPP is so exciting, because it has allowed me to come clean and go in a dark and daring direction with my urban grit/noir writing, where I can be my authentic dark side. (if wildly exaggerated and twisted!) There will be no holds barred in my new book, where a very un-fab four think a drug problem is running out and a crime is a bad haircut. I’m giggling wildly every time I send my urban Punks of the 70’s to the present on a different escapade.
Anyway, I thought, the house is bursting at the seams with ‘stuff’, so what better gifts to give for Christmas than experiences and my time? My son got a gym membership, so I can run alongside him, and my husband got a weekend off-grid with me in a hobbit hut. We’d unwind, relax and give ourselves permission to do nothing. We’d re-charge and re-boot with no tech involved and come back refreshed. That was the plan. By Sunday it had gone a bit wrong…
So we arrived at this beautiful pink-lit hut, absolutely in the middle of nowhere and by 5pm we were in a hot tub with a bottle of bubbly. We sat at the fire pit until midnight and cooked on a portable BBQ and we just chilled under the stars. No, we LITERALLY chilled. The three am trip to the loo prompted some Captain Oates gags of ‘I may be some time, and our own duvet, their duvet a blanket and a ‘Snoodie’ were wholly inadequate. I read a book and we had a great time. But leaping about in a swimsuit at midnight in minus 3 probably wasn’t the best idea for a mid-lifer like me. By Sunday I had to travel back with what at first seemed like the world’s worst hangover but then quickly established itself as full on ‘flu.
However, I turned a bad ending into a positive beginning, and whilst on the sick bed, I managed to get over 30,000 words down on the new book. It will be in finished draft form soon, and I am very excited about this one. I just don’t think my mum should read it!
In other news: I will be writing a monthly blog for Felixstowe Magazine app, so to find out more of what I’ve touched on here, and words of wisdom and inspiration,, you will be able to head over there. Also, I will be playing Patricia Highsmith toward the end of March. She wrote The Talented Mister Ripley and many other books and stories and in terms of darkness and crime she’s my kinda woman.
So, it’s back to work for me, and I will be posting some book reviews I have promised very shortly!
Happy 2024; Let’s hope it’s a good one.
Virginia Betts 