Book Stuff.

So, I'm pretty bad at keeping up with this and am not really sure anyone reads it. But if YOU do, then, just so you know, I'm going to make  a bigger effort with it. Particularly now that my manuscript is finally finished. No really, I actually did it! Phew!

I handed in my final draft to the publishers three weeks ago - which is actually their first draft - but I'm not thinking about that! I took a week off, which actually ended up being a week where my good friend ferried over - because of the apocalyptic volcanic plume- and checked out the IFI Stranger than Fiction Film Festival. (http://www.irishfilm.ie/) (I love the IFI, not least because of their exceptionally delicious brownies.)

Last week I started back work experience in the News Room. Things went well as I bused it into my first marking - feeling like a pro whilst sipping my Capri Sun - to the first annual Arthur Guinness Awards. It was actually great fun. Because A - there were incredible people there. and B - I know the structure of Awards Ceremonies. So it should have been a breeze!

And it was great, apart from the sore throat that tickled me on the way back from the Guinness Storehouse. By Wednesday morning no amount of coffee and vanilla extract (my new - probably odd- poison) would keep me awake. By Thursday I was working from home. On Friday I was.. well, let's just say I haven't been in work since. Which is extremely frustrating.

What I love most about being in the newsroom is the way I just get sucked into the rhythm of the whole place. I know I'm meant to be running off to markings and covering things. Bam! Cf, cold, clinic on Monday, lung function down, weight down, mucus up. Grr. So this week has been about recuperating. And rewriting the end of my book....

My editor mailed me the cover last week and I didn't know whether to cry or throw up. Not because I don't like, it's just very odd. I'm on the cover - which wouldn't have been my first choice - and it's very weird to think I am willingly exposing my life the way I am.
My friend, who is also a writer - actually he is an amazing award winning one- told me when I started writing my book back in 2007 "A Memoir is a work of Ego". I told him he was nuts, my Ego has nothing to do with this.  Er, maybe I should have thrown it in there.

It really doesn't though, or else I wouldn't be able to say all that I say.  People keep asking me if they're in it and what I'm saying about them. It's fun in the beginning, but then it's a head wreck. I like that the book is so honest, I just hope it doesn't bite me in the ass. I've got my flights booked for a quick get- away to a secret location where a faux identity awaits, anyway..

xxx