Ain't yer got no sense of yoomer?

Having actually watched poor Ian Rankin (teehee!) on the Crime Thriller Awards last night, I have to admit that his comment was, indeed, a throwaway joke. I'm not apologising for being defensive on behalf of the Romantic Novelists' Association, or writers of the ubiquitous Women's Fiction, merely saying yes, it was a joke, and I'm sure he would be astonished at the reaction it has provoked in our community.

I can, unfortunately, see how our combined raised spines would appear to the general public. Do I need to spell it out? I think the title of this post says it all. So come on, ladies and gents, think of a good joke for the crime writers. (Oh, that includes me, doesn't it? Bother.)

After a comforting discussion with my publisher the other day, I'm pleased to report that I have a stay of execution on the current book - pub. date now moved to April - another book is required after that, and large print and audio versions of Murder in Bloom are out on Monday. All the Libby Sarjeant series is now in audio, but this will be my first large print. Thrilled to bits. I will be able to eat for at least another year...

Blood on the carpet says Mr Rankin

Apparently this is what happens whenever two or more romantic novelists gather together. Harpies and harridans, the lot of us.

Now, I'm a member of the Romantic Novelists' Association and the Crime Writers' Association. Over my years of membership, I have met more close friends through the RNA than the CWA could shake a stick at. They are supportive, helpful, genuinely pleased at each other's successes and have a unique New Writers' Scheme. I have been a member of the CWA for three years. (Sorry - was there more to that sentence? No? Ah.)

So please, crime writers, leave it out. It isn't funny - it may have been when first uttered fifteen years ago - and it most certainly isn't true.

A gentle trot through October

I did try to blog while on holiday in Cavus, Turkey, but for some reason the Turkish server wouldn't let me! I managed everything else; I wrote, Tweeted, Facebooked and emailed, and listened to music and comedy on the ipod and the laptop. Fab. Three weeks is, however, too long. I've spent three weeks there before, but when I was still fairly new to the place (ie, only been there three or four times). Now, however, three weeks away from home, the cats and the children is too long. My friend Marie suggested I shouldn't have kept up with home so much, but she can talk! She, grandmother of the year, who has to phone home to find out how grandson 1 has done at football, not to mention phoning to wish him luck before every match...

Cats were spoilt by their Auntie Alison, who lived in for the whole time. Despite the fact that they now think they can have at least two breakfasts and can sleep on my bed with me (shades of Alan Davis's cats who went to live with his sister), I am so grateful to Alison, who (the mug) has said she'll do it anytime.

I am on the home straight with Murder in Bloom, and it has been even more of a struggle. I suppose each one will get harder and harder. Four of the books are now in audio, and I'm still hoping Magna or Thorpe will pick them up for large print. I have a beautiful new map of Steeple Martin drawn by my friend Susan Alison which is on my website and will appear in each new book.

Jack and the Beanstalk will be the pantomime at the Whitstable Playhouse in January 2010, and I'm extremely pleased to say I shall be playing the Queen. It's years since I was actually IN a panto, having been conned - I mean, asked - to direct more recently. Luckily directed ones wot I had writ, so got the royalties, but it's not the same as being in one.

Daughter Phillipa is having the time of her life at the Royal Academy of Music, and I would like to add my own thanks to all those who helped her get there.

That's about it for now. Do let me know if you've read this by commenting.