Free associations

So I got a new phone the other day. Mostly because my old one was rubbish, ring volume was so low I could never hear it no matter how high I turned it up, screen was poky, etc. Plus, it had a really annoying arial stump that always got caught on stuff in my bag, or my pocket, so if by some miracle I ever heard the damn thing ring, I could never get to it in time to answer it.

New phone is supercute. No stupid arial. Big screen. Currently it sports a picture of Sugar being adorable (she's 14 weeks old, she can't be anything else). I wanted my old picture of Tinker practising his 'I'm old and skinny and need food' wail, but I can't seem to transfer them over. Old phone has USB port, but needs software I just can't be bothered to buy. Can always MMS them to someone and get them to send them back to my new phone.

Don't really even know why I got a new phone. I mean, whole days go by where I remember I've left it in my bag and no one's called me. I really only use it to text Alysia, who emails most of the time when she's at work, or Patrick, who I don't speak to all that much, or Richard, who lives in the same house as me, which is a little pathetic. Or Amy, to whom it is free to send an IM, but neither of us are that bright.

Speaking of Patrick, am going bowling with him today. No especial reason except that he asked and I'm bored. Apparently his brother, with whom I have exchanged prescisely no words ever before, is also coming, and someone else I don't know. Well, anyway. Beats lying around in the sun all day.

Now that there is sun again. The storm has cleared the air. It's not really warm enough to lie around though. Went for a walk yesterday, wore a hoodie, but it got warmer as I was walking. Coming out of Spar (really must learn what it's called now, hasn't been Spar for about twenty years) saw my old teacher from primary school. V strange to see them when they're smaller than you. Also to think of her as 'Aileen', not 'Mrs Smith'. At least, I think that's how you spell her name.

Wow. From new phone to old teacher. Five paragraphs there, and I don't think any of them contained a single interesting fact. Free associations.

Liquid air

So I once read a book set in nineteenth century Ireland that said the constant moisture in the air gave all the women wonderful complexions. Clearly, this was written by someone who had never read a skincare article, in which is it is usually stated that water actually dries out the skin. Or, in fact, been to England, which is just as wet as Ireland and where perfect skin is as rare as the rest of the world. In any case, modern humidity is hell if you wear even a slight smudge of makeup. I went for a walk today and I thought my face was melting. Well, anyway, I probably sweated out a few pounds.

Not as many as these chaps, though. Sunday was hot, overcast, and the air was like soup. My Coke bottle felt like it had been microwaved (the plastic actually started warping). Even Alysia, who I think would live on the sun if she could, didn't enjoy it. Anyway. Jousting tournament at Audley End, and these guys were walking around in fur-trimmed wool robes, before they put on their 70lb armour, lifted 15lb lances, and rode towards each other at a combined speed of 50mph. Reckon they ended the day about 20lb lighter than they started it.

Shameless self-promotion, part III

(No, must be past three now. Oh well, I can't really count).

Never Leave Me is released today! This book drove me crazy while I was writing it, so I hope you all appreciate my loss of sanity. For some reason, having identified dialogue as my strong point, I decided to write a book without any. See, me? Crazy.

Reaver's been a demon hunter since he was sixteen, and if there's one thing he can't stand, it's helplessness. So when he finds a girl so shocked by demon possession that she can't speak a word, he's ready to get rid of her as soon as he can.

But he never bargained on her invading his dreams and knowing everything about him. He never expected her to be the best fighter he's ever seen. And he sure as hell didn't think she'd turn out to be so damn sexy.

Before he can give in to what he never knew he wanted, he's got to figure out just who she is... and why the hell he wants her so much.

KateJohnson.co.uk

You have no idea how weird it is seeing your real name with a website addy attached to it. Really. I've got to used to talking about Cat as--well, not a separate person, more a different identity--that making Kate's site has been very odd! But I'm pleased with it. Go and enjoy the silliness. Also, enjoy the fact that I was able to get that domain name: come on, it's so common there was another girl at my small, provincial school with it.

Also, I want to promo a new newsletter/site I have going with some other top gals. Check out the Great Escape Artists for many insightful articles about life, the universe, and writing, and especially register for our newsletter. Ta.

Sophie

I sold Sophie!

Samhain Publishing offered me a contract this morning (about four months faster than I was expecting to hear from them!). They're a new publisher, but all I've heard so far has been pretty good. Plus, a friend of mine is shortly to be published with them. She has a hero called Eli and he's delicious. Her editor now signs every email to her with *hearts* Eli.

How could I not love that?

Please sir

I want some more.

Well, I've been thinking. About all the whining I do. Someone said to me earlier that life isn't fair: well, you know, I think maybe it is. I mean, look. I was brought up by parents who love me and each other, in a nice house in an affluent area in one of the wealthiest countries in the world. I'm healthy, reasonably intelligent and not mirror-breakingly ugly. I get to do the job I want to do most in the world, and I actually get paid for it. Sort of. Right now my biggest problem is how to stop the kittens bursting in and playing tug-of-war with my hair at five am. So I'm perennially broke and chronically single. So what?

There are people out there who have no money, no food, no house, no health. Let's face it, there are people out there who are just really ugly. So really, it's not life that isn't fair, not to me. What's not fair is that I have all that, and I want more.

I want my own house. I want my own car. But to get that, I'd need to earn... oh, say ten to fifteen times what I do now. More, if I actually want to be able to buy new clothes every now and then, or take a holiday sometimes. I want the great romance, or at least someone who's financially solvent, can carry a conversation, laughs at my jokes, likes cats and is nice to look at.

But. It's kind of a lot to ask for. Especially when, as I said, my life doesn't exactly suck. I got my eyes, got my nose, got my fingers, got my toes, got my boobies. I got life.

So it's probably rather selfish of me to want any more. Bad, bad middle class white girl.

Nothin' to do, not much to say

I'm tired and bored. And also kinda depressed, because I went to a funeral today. Is it wrong that while the son of the recently deceased was giving the eulogy, I was sitting there thinking, "Hey, great job growing up!" Okay, and the eulogy was very moving too. So, an appropriate time interval, and then we'll see about improving my slut test score...

Okay, joking. He was surrounded by girls anyway. You know, it's very annoying that all my mother's friends have daughters of the same age as me who are at least half my bodyweight. I mean, there were three of them standing together, and I reckon if you stuck them on one side of a scale and me on the other, they'd still be higher than me.

Blah. Trying to print my own business cards, since I don't care for any of the pre-made templates you can get at those free business card sites, and when you design your own they charge you for it, then charge you to upload the image (yes, I know), then charge you for postage, then... I don't know, probably they charge by the letter or something. Anyway, have printer, will print. So long as the damn thing plays along...

Slut test

Okay, I did one of those slut tests, just because it's Sunday and I'm bored, and apparently I'm 32% slut, which I think is pretty funny. I mean, I don't even leave the house most days.

However, my doubts as to the validity of the test are underscored by the interesting statistics told me by the site(yes, even after all the data I put in, both for me and my made-up slut friends): (was going to copy/paste but it brokethe html, so I'll just summarise.) Apparently 0% of the 1.2 million test-takers have ever French-kissed, had anal sex, had sex with someone they didn't like, or just plain old had sex.

Right. Every one of those million-and-a-bit testees was a virgin? Possibly they're all thirteen, in which case good job, but there has to be one person who has had some kind of sex. No? The test is just for losers? Methinks perhaps that data has absolutely fuck-all to do with...well, anything.

Just for shits and giggles, plus see above re: Sundayness, I'm going to test a couple of my characters. Chance is 70% slut, kind of disappointing for someone in her profession (although I'm sure Dark's love is what denied her the last 30%). Aura, 79% slut (again, slightly disappointing, seeing as she ticked all boxes except those involving disturbing bodily functions, and entered the highest number possible in the 'number of partners' section). Con, rather sweetly, is 40% slut. That's because he's a magic-geek. Bless.

Meaningful thoughts prompted by song lyrics

AKA: is this song about me or am I superimposing myself on it? Well, the chorus is about right. Even down to the left/right thing. Drove my driving instructor nuts. And what the frilly heck is a wonderwall?

Everyday I wake up and it's Sunday
Whatever's in my eye won't go away
The radio is playing all the usual
And what's a 'wonderwall' anyway?

Because my inside is outside
My right side's on the left side
And I'm writing to reach you now but
I might never reach you
Only want to teach you
About you
But that's not you

Points for anyone who knows who that is... or anyone who does know what a wonderwall is... or comments...

Win signed smut

It's easy, look.

Each of the four Sundown, Inc. books (covers right) contains a character named after someone from my favourite TV series. Some of them are major characters, some minor. If you can tell me who they are, I'll enter you into a draw to win a signed copy of the Sundown, Inc. anthology. There's no end date to this contest (at least not yet, I'll probably end it when the book is released) so you've got plenty of time to think about it.

The Sundown, Inc. books are: She Who Dares, Blue Moon, What Wizards Want, and Baby Sham Faery Love. They're all available to buy in e-book format now from Changeling Press.

What I want you to tell me is: what's the TV show? (this one's fairly easy, I babble on about it all the time) and also, who are the characters in the Sundown books that I've named after characters from the TV series?

Okay, so I lied about it being easy. But the offer's still there.

Holiday! Celebrate!

Okay, bloggers. Ideas please. If you were invited to a costume party and the theme was 'holidays', what would you dress as?

No bikinis, please--and no, I'm not doing the Madonna thing, either!

We are the winners...of Eurovision!

I think you really have to be a) European and b) slightly mad to appreciate the cheese-fest that is the Eurovision Song Contest. When even the presenter can't stop laughing (love ya, Tezza--I mean, Sir Tezza) you know it's going to be entertaining.

Anyway, this year's highlights included: a Britney lookalike (when she was still hot) from Moldova who changed her outfit three times during one song; a French chick who badly needed a tuning fork; crazy shaven-headed Spanish dancers; a Swiss entreaty for World Peace; cute Russian boy with an unfortunate mullet, accompanied by a ballet dancer appearing from a piano; a British rapper backed by schoolgirls in boaters; a Danish teenager emoting over some boy's inability to 'twist'; Israeli soul sung in English and Hebrew (at least, my guess is Hebrew); and the winners, a group of Finnish Orcs singing comedy metal about the Day of Rockening (sic).

And no, I didn't make any of those up.

However, my personal vote went (or would have done if there was any phone signal in Alysia's house) to the Lithuanian entry, LT United, with their fabulous, possibly even post-modern football anthem We Are The Winners. Laugh? I very nearly ruptured something.

Come on, all together now: We are the winners of Eurovision. We are, we are! We are the winners of Eurovision. Vote vote vote vote, for the winners!

Honesty about writing

Laura Kinsale on Smart Bitches, Trashy Books.

Everyone's thinkin' it, she's just sayin' it. Or maybe they're not. But I definitely agree with her. Voices in the head and all that.

Hell, if I'd wanted a proper job with money, respect, own flat etc, I'd have gone to university. Instead I have a damn vocation, and much kudos it brings me too! See my many millions of pounds, my fabulous house, gorgeous husband? Nah, didn't think so.