I’ve been absent from my blog this spring. There are several reasons for this, none to do with Covid19. At least I don’t think so.
January was lost mostly to coughing. It was that dry, exhausting cough that was going around just before and after Christmas and it got me. I spent an entire week on the sofa, too exhausted to do anything except worry about the fact that I wasn’t working and my deadline was approaching like an express train. Since it was the first in a three part mini series and is set around Christmas there wasn’t a lot of wiggle room! My editor, bless her, was Patience on a Monument.
I was playing catch-up for the entire month and the book, Christmas Reunion in Paris, was finally delivered early in March. It will be out there, in paperback and as a digital download, in October.
It’s the first book in the Christmas at the Harrington Hotel mini series which I wrote with Kandy Shepherd and Susan Meier. This is James Harrington, my hero.
Which took care of February, culminating in a blissful weekend at the end of the month with Liberta writing buddies in a writing retreat in London. There was much writing, good food and conversation. And the odd glass of wine!
I should be packing for our week long writing retreat in the Lake District right now, but we’re all tucked up in our homes, obeying the Stay Home rule, but we’ll be getting together for it via Zoom. Fortunately, we’ve been able to move our actual booking to next March. Hopefully life will have returned to normal by then.
And then there was March. I started a new story – a novella which I’ll be working on during our online writing retreat which begins on Friday and which will be published in a anthology this summer – but then there was eye surgery.
Nothing serious. It was a cataract – a simple, everyday procedure. Except not quite. My eyes have very narrow angles and, because of acute glaucoma, high pressure.
I had to have a general anaesthetic, but it was day surgery and afterwards, my lovely daughter took me home for a few days r&r where I was spoilt rotten.
I am now in that weird state where my glasses – worn since I was three years old – are useless. Honestly, three and a half weeks in I can see quite well without them – particularly the bags under my eyes which have been happily hidden behind my frames until now! – but I’m missing the pinpoint sharpness.
Actually, on reflection, I’ve been missing that for a year or more, which is why writing had become much harder, but it’s frustrating and I have to wait for my follow up check-up at the end of this month before I can get a new prescription. It’s a first world problem, I understand that. Just a bit frustrating.
Meanwhile, the world has moved on. I will, hopefully, have some exciting news to share about one of my earlier books The Bridesmaid’s Royal Bodyguard/If the Shoe Fits in the near future.
Right now, For His Eyes Only is on sale in the UK in the Hidden Past anthology with Natalie Anderson and Helen Lacey.
Keep safe everyone, keep well. Keep reading.