It's my publisher Choc Lit's sixth birthday today, and so I'm blogging on the number six.
Funny old number, six. It doesn't immediately spring to mind when you think of magic numbers. According to Wikipedia it's a kissing number, which is rather nice when you write romance. In my favourite musical, West Side Story, the song America is composed in 6/8 time (it actually switches between 6/8 and 3/4, which is what gives it such a distinctive rhythm and also makes it impossible to dance to). Six is the number of witches you'd have if two covens were forced to share the village hall on the same night ("and after I lugged the cauldron all this way, and with my sciatica, too..."). It's the number of Deadly Sins you'd have if Sloth didn't bother to turn up. Which he wouldn't. Being Sloth.
But anyway. Here's my blog based on the number six...so what I'm going to do is give you little snippets of my book from 6 key points in my WiP, The Absolutely Untitleable Ghost Book. It's a fun book about ghosts. With jokes.
(approximately) Six lines from...
Page 6: Quinn put the phone down, making a note to ask Tessa how many of their floral displays were actually tributes from Ethan’s fans.
He sorted through the phone messages she’d left on his desk, the most prominent of which was written entirely in capitals and said, “APPLICANT FOR OFFICE MANAGER 11AM!!!” Quinn wasn’t entirely sure they had enough work for an office manager, or receptionist or secretary or whatever the feck he was supposed to call her, but Tessa was adamant that she wasn’t answering calls, typing up files, and ‘updating that bastard website’ any more.
Page 60: She’s not sure how she got to the hospital. She’s not even sure which one it is. She’s been herded around from one room to another, been poked and prodded by more people in a few hours than in the rest of her life combined, and now she’s sitting on a chair in a corridor looking at watercolours and posters about depression.
Things sound kind of muffled, but she’s not sure if that’s the same as her ears ringing. People keep asking her things and she’s having trouble concentrating.
Chapter 6: Quinn made it into the office late that day, barely awake, and fairly sure he was sweating whiskey. He’d woken on the sofa, fully dressed, as the sun came in through the open curtains of his living room. Beside him was a half-empty bottle of Jamesons. On the TV, breakfast news burbled.
His new secretary had gone home after the second drink, but Quinn had stayed on, sitting out in the increasingly chilly beer garden until he’d run out of cash.
Chapter 16: I told him about my hair.
The half-asleep thought brought Jen to sudden, appalled wakefulness. She’d told him she used to dye her hair silly colours. Oh God, what if he remembered that and put two and two together and made...blue?
She sat up, feeling slightly sick in a way that had nothing to do with the wine she’d drunk last night.
It’ll be all right, she told herself. He’ll never consider it. Too much of a coincidence.
Chapter 36: It was going dark by the time Quinn’s phone rang, and he somewhat guiltily recalled that he’d just gone for a walk several hours ago and not told Uncle Keiran when he’d be back. Disentangling himself from Jen, who’d fallen asleep while they were watching a rerun of Red Dwarf, he grabbed at his jacket and fumbled for his phone.
“Quinn, lad. Now I was thinking, I’ve that lamb in the fridge and it’ll probably stretch to three if I put some potatoes on.”
And 6 lines from the end...: “It’s a hell of a way to spend your birthday,” Jen said to him.
“Hey, I said I wanted to spend it with you, so.”
“I’m going to call Dr Wu,” Charlotte said as she stomped down the stairs, dragging her daughter with her.
“No, you’re not,” Jen said calmly. “Now, who’s hungry?”
“The pub does good burgers,” Quinn added.
“No burgers,” Charlotte said. “I’ve got rice crackers in the car.”
See? Practically an entire book there. Don't know why I needed the other 100,000 words of it. Oh yes, I do. The ghosts! You'll have to wait and see...