This is the day after the month when there was a Literary Festival -including a workshop and a Readers' Day, a launch,two signings, two book group talks, a weekend workshop with my friend and co-author, Linda Gillard and finally, a lunch/conference with fellow Transita authors and publishers. I am very tired.

Tomorrow there's a writers' meeting, a workshop and a school parents evening. Thursday, there will be a bath - a very slow bath. I will lie init and soak off dirt I haven't even accumulated.

I will also bring you up to date withthings that stood out.

The best one one was a woman in our workshop who realised, for the first time in her life that she is a writer.

Yakuta - we're keeping our eye on you. GO girl!

This weekend I ran a two day workshop with a fellow writer and freind, Linda Gillard. It was only the second time we met on this planet but we knew it would work and it did. I misspelled Yaquata's name. She was only one of talented writers who came - I hope they all continue writing.

The day Linda left I went to an event run by a friend who restores/distresses antique furniture. For display purposes she dresses the furniture in stylish baubles and the 'ladies who lunch' come and buy. I set out a display of books waited and watched...

This is how it works.

There are two distinct types -the ladies who buy baubles and the ladies who buy books. The former arrive in the morning. They are ladies who lunch. They pop in, myaah myaah, decline coffee, pick up a bauble or two (priced 4.50) and a charming chaise longue (650) and pop out again. They do not buy books by local authors. Quite right too. My spines clash with the fabric.

In the evening the book buyers arrive. They do not myaah myaah. They 'Omigod! Whadid I miss. You wrote three? Is it good? Can I buy one?' They decline coffee, have three glasses of wine apiece, bemoan the fact the baubles are all sold and then sit on the chaise longue...reading the book. By the third glass of wine they are ladies who lurk and they have a book apiece. They ring you up a couple of days later and say things like. 'I'm exhausted! I stayed up till late reading your book and then I couldn't get up in the morning. It's your fault.'

I love these ladies.

ps. Toppling Miss April doesn't keep you up- it makes you fall off the sofa.

This is the week of sorting - or finding the surface of the desk.I haven't seen it since before Soft Voices Whispering launched in October but have fond memories - red leather, embossed edges and, unless the memory is false, a lovely sheen.

It's also the week of husband off to Angola (aka me alone with three teenagers ). What can I possibly say about that? Whoop de do springs to mind but sticks in my throat - hate to give false impressions - they're wonderful.

Then there's writing the speech - I have to talk for an hour on 'A Writers' life - hitting the gound running' at the Elmbridge Festival on 30th November. The brochure promises that it will be a humorous and entertaining evening. I could end this paragraph like I did the last but I won't -I like speeches. The audience always have that 'Oh, I'm so glad it's not me' look on their faces and I don't get that at home when faced with domesticity.

The Oxford 'Do' will be good - a hall full of books with their authors available to comment/sign. It's the first Transita/Bookcrossing event. THe idea is to buy two books and set one free - to cross the globe, hopefully. It's a new idea and Transita's involvement is yet more evidence of their pioneer publishing attitiude. Tough being a pioneer...

Last week Transita had a (square table) conference and it was decided that we would have a blog on the website - www.transita.co.uk. I agreed and am now in the position of having two blogs. Whoop de do.

Next the website. Watch this space.

Is it me or there something very wonderful about the notion of the RomanceNovelists' Association having their Winter Party in the library of the IMechE in London?Thebuilding is imposing and very masculine and seems an odd venue for romance writers to get together.

I wondered if there was a dress code. I'd come from a meeting at my sons' school and was greeted by a bevy of beautifully groomed ladies in proper party dresses - oh dear. There were kisses and haloos as uniformed waiters offered around trays of canapes. Everyone looked for the one person she hoped would be there and the atmostphere was charming.

Then I noticed the books.

The walls are lined with them. After the first few glasses of wine they were lined with ladies too - sipping, chatting - and it would have made for perfect photographs if it weren't for the titles.

Who thought of leaving Coupling and Joints at eye level behind the Mills and Boon writers? As a very attractive young woman with an LBD sticker greeted her friend, I hoped she didn't realise that her left shoulder was lined up with a hardback copy of Shaft Alignment and two volumes of information on the Strength of the two-Stroke. At first I thought it was my age. Maybe I've finally reached my prime and become fruity but I soon realised that there were other, more prestigious RNA members peering along the shelves and smiling broadly. I smiled all the way home.

Whoever thought of that venue - ingenious!

Thank you.

An interesting thing happened on Friday.

A local primary school was having its Christmas shopping night and I decided to have a table so that the literate could buy their grannies a book for Christmas, signed by the author. At 3.00 all the stallholders set up - making their tables look as attractive as possible and then scooting home for tea before returning at 6.00. I came back at 10 to - I was <em>keen.</em> Writing is a solitary pursuit so any opportunity to meet old friends (drink mulled wine) sell books (drink mulled wine) and generally socialise is welcome.

My 13 year old son, being a fastidious fellow, checked when we got back that all was in order. He displayed the posters, checked the float and then counted the books...

There were two missing.

TWO MISSING!

Someone had actually gone to the trouble of pinching a copy of Toppling Miss April (with the new cover - maybe they didn't realise it was the same inside) and Soft Voices Whispering. They'd obviously read The Jigsaw Maker. How do you react to that? As a practising Catholic at a Catholic Primary School fundraising event in the church hall, I really didn't expect to need security cameras. I said so.

On my right, the Pampered Chef representative looked aghast and checked her table - all present and correct. The Murano Glass Jewellery rep on the other side checked hers - fine too.

All around the large hall folk ascertained that their supplies were in order and it emerged that I was the only victim....

RESULT!

Mine was the only stall deemed worthy of the effort, worth the risk of some serious explaining at the pearly gates. What a compliment (albeit backhanded).

So if anyone's having difficulty getting his/her hands on a copy of either of the aforemnetioned books, hang fire. There are copies in purgatory and I won't be pressing charges. It kept me going all evening.

I didn't need the wine.

When I was eight, we lived in a small town in County Kildare in Ireland, called Monasterevin. It's where most of the enduring impressions of my life were laid down and are now emerging as inspiration for stories. It's also proving rich picking for a talk I'm giving next week as part of the Elmbridge Literary Festival. Linda Gillard and I started off that festival giving a weekend workshop and I end it by giving a talk. The ladies who wrote the blurb for it did a great job. They've promised 'an entertaining and humour-filled evening.' They're opening the bar at 7 and when the attendees are nicely pickled, I'll stand up, STONE COLD SOBER and talk for an hour about how I came to be a writer and how I always wanted to be a storyteller. A full hour, no stopping for breath, no deviation, no repetition.

It reminds me of Monasterevin. When I was eight I used to go for long walks with my parents and I liked to tell them stories - all the way around. My mother sometimes asked when the story would end.

I'd tell her, when we reach home.

She'd be quiet for a while then she'd say, 'Pet, will we walk a little faster?'

As a treat, she's even let me run sometimes - all three miles.

So Monasterevin is very alive in my head just now.

The talk is entitled, 'Hitting the Ground Running...'

This is a name that crops up on the Transita website a lot. This weekend I finally got round to checking out all the sites/blogs I've wanted to look up for a long time.

That was a good idea.

The bad idea was opening them all at the same time so that when I decided to write to some I got the messages mixed up and so there are computer savvy folk the length of the country staring at their screens saying things like, 'Whaaashe on about?' and 'Oh dear, who hasn' t been taking her fish oils then?'

Me. Sorry.

Dovegreyreader's blog is one of the nicest. She reviews books and she posts pictures so that her blog is gorgeous to look at . And I know her real name too. She was very kind about The Jigsaw Maker before it came out and just as kind since. Thank you, Lynne. I hope we'll meet in the flesh some day.

By the way, if any of you are taking your flesh to Oxford on 9th December. Transita is hosting a Transita/Bookcrossing event. Buy two books, set one free to travel the world. It's a novel idea - in every sense of the world. More on this later.....

Yesterday should have been devoted to preparing for a talk I'm giving on Thursday as the final event of The ELmbridge Literary Festival (Vera Flethcer Hall, Ember Court ROad, Thames Ditton 8pm.) but instead I had to go to London. I boarded the train at Weybridge to find only one seat available - opposite a young fellow with earphones and a woolly hat pulled low over his face. Other passengers regarded him suspiciously as he had a way of twitching every so often, pulling his neck upwards and wincing.

I sat opposite and watched (casualty of the job - writer's curiousity) and realised I'd seen that movement before.

At breakfast.

My sons, 17,16 and 13, are all keen canoeists and the day after a really tough workout they wrap scarves around their necks and twitch and agitate if they've got stiff muscles. H was too lean for a canoeist:they have a very particular shape - broad shoulders/chest, narrow waist. And they tend to be mesomorphs. This chap was tall and lean.

He noticed me watching.

'Rower?' I asked.

He leaned forward, beaming. 'No - water polo. I'm off to see my chiropracter. I'm a tri-athlete - professional.' And he sounded so proud.

If I'd been his mother, I would be proud too; it was the quickest journey to Waterloo I ever had.

Alex Lewis is training to be fast enough to get onto the Olympic Team for the 2012 Olympics. He's bright, friendly, very personable and talks to strange women on the train.

I said I'd keep my fingers crossed and cheer him on when the time comes.

So if he makes it - and I sincerely hope he does - please cheer him on too.

He deserves it.