Horses, Christmas, resolutions and mysterious hackers

This is our drawing room on Christmas morning. The picture was taken in 2006, but as we do the same thing every year, safe to say it will look the same in 2009!

Writing-wise, I'm in 1861 and back at Hartslove. So many people ask what happened to the de Granvilles that I began to wonder too. The other night, in a rare moment of sleep, I found myself dreaming about them, and my dream got muddled up with this horse, who won the Derby for my family in 1861. As it happens, in 1861 the de Granvilles are facing a crisis: Charles Granville (they felt it wise to lose the 'de' during the French Revolution) has returned from war in the east with a taste for brandy, and his children are faced with the loss of their home. Hartslove itself is falling apart. But in the midst of it all, Charles buys a horse - this horse. Isn't he a dear! He looks so surprised by life. I have him as on my desktop as I write. He's called The One, because everybody who buys a racehorse hopes it's The One ...

When I'm not in 1861, I find it's Christmas again, and through the magnificent Spotify I can listen to whatever carols I want, with the advertisements reminding me that consumerism (and complaining about it) has become as traditional as the manger. I had better get cracking on the shopping. Today, the day of the annual church carol concert, we have snow in Glasgow. Blackberry, now 2, and Crumble (picture is rather old, must take another, but I do love this one) are in heaven.

Paradise Red, the last of the Perfect Fire trilogy, has had lovely reviews and I've finished Spy's Song, about a girl who finds herself caught up in an adventure with a squire hiding a secret, an alchemist who's made a promise and Geoffrey Chaucer, whose history is surprising.

My kmgrant.net website appears to have been hacked into by Iranians. I've nothing at all against Iranians, so I don't quite know what they've got against me. Hey, hacker, if you're reading this, can I have my site back?

I've resolved in the past to be a better blogger. I'm resolving again. I Shall Be a Better Blogger.

Happy Christmas!

empty nest

Well, we're alone - that is my husband and I, with the dogs and of course the budgie. The last child has gone off to university and the house feels like a house does when the party's over. I don't mind admitting, I've got empty nest syndrome pretty badly, though I do comfort myself with the hoover. Those dust-bunnies must think the end of the world has come. Well, it has, for them.

For us, it's the end of a certain world too: the world of multitudinous socks and 'are you up yet?', the world of mountains of Shreddies and 'is the heating really on?' So, I'm in mourning. Why does the university term have to start when the light is vanishing as fast as the children? Now I must go and cook the dinner and after that, to cheer myself up, I'm going to watch Six Feet Under.

online chats

While my old iBook is looking the other way, I'll tell you that my Macbook Pro means I'm now available for online author chats through balkin buddies, whose link should appear in this blog. Online chats really seem the way to go and if you'd like to sign up for one, please do go to the balkin buddies website, and see how they work. If the link doesn't link, then try http://www.balkinbuddies.com/authorsavailableonline.html

My dogs, having seen themselves on the screen, are very keen and will doubtless play a part in proceedings ...

is it that time already

Just when I resolve to blog more often, life gets in the way. What life, you may ask. New life, I answer. Well, not really new. It's just that I have a job, yes, a real job, though part time, at the university. I'm part of a small team setting up an online literacy resource, so I have to Wear Clothes and Go To An Office. Quite a shock for a writer. I mean, what clothes to wear?

And then my little iBook grew poorly. It's still poorly, but as is the way of these things, in order not to lose anything, I had to get a new one before it actually died. Now it sits beside me, my discarded faithful friend, closed and mournful. Who could possibly imagine I'd feel a heel about abandoning a computer? But it was so sweet, and had helped me through so many books, and here I am, zooping along on my new Macbook pro, and my little iBook knows it could never keep up, and isn't nearly so whizzy and on and on and on. I wonder if anybody ever read a book called 'Little Black, a Pony'. He was usurped by Big Red when his boy rider got too big for him. The boy felt rotten. I do too. But then Big Red fell through the ice and Little Black had to rescue him, so who knows: my iBook may yet have to be resurrected ...

pressing the button

Today I sent off the first draft of a new book. Then, as usual, I bolted out of the house with the dogs. If I don't do that, I go back into the book, see one word I want to change and have to email my editor and say 'delete, delete - I'll send again!' That way leads to the madhouse ...

what do you call ... ?

What do you call a gathering of medieval historians? A mustiness? A crustiness? A fustiness? Not after you've met them.

I've just had the honour of being part of a heresy panel at the Leeds Medieval Congress, not as a heretic but as a historical novelist. I was in eminent company: Kate Mosse (of Labyrinth fame), Rene Weiss (of The Yellow Cross fame) and myself. It's a nervous moment, addressing academics on a subject they've spent years dissecting. The academics delivered papers of magisterial complexity: Pascua draconum et cubile strutiorum might sound like Potter-speak, but it's a real subject, as is Visual and Rhetorical Means in Religious Polemics in the Bohemian Reformation. Oh, and 'Are you a member of the Louis the Pious Society?' turns out to be quite an effective pick-up line.

But this was no musty crusty fustiness: the academics sparkled, particularly, I believe, in their dancing shoes. Yes, they really did have dancing shoes. And T-shirts sporting erudite jokes. And opinions about tv shows like MadMen.

It was really rather a blast - a Blast of Medieval Historians.

details, details

Yana has asked what Gavin, Will, Ellie and Kamil look like, which raises an interesting point about writing. Does the author have a fixed vision of the characters? I know that individual readers do, but actually, as the author, being asked to describe my characters is a bit like being asked to describe myself, which I would find quite difficult to do since I don't spend that much time gazing into the mirror. So - though I could give you Gavin, Will, Ellie and Kamil's opinions about almost anything, can I describe their faces? Well, here goes.

I see Gavin with thick brown/blonde hair, and Will too. They're both of medium height, Gavin slightly taller. There's a distinct family similarity in that both have those bright, expectant, very English faces, Gavin's a little longer than Will's, his lips a little thinner, his bearing a little stiffer. Will has a dimple, which appears when he tightens his cheeks, making it hard for him to look very stern. Will looks more and more like their father as he gets older. Gavin, had he lived, would have looked more like their mother. Ellie is shorter than Will, and slimmer, with auburn hair and expectant eyes. She's always alert, as an animal is, and her lips turn up at the edges when she smiles, which is often. In repose, her expression is a little wistful, as if she's seeing something in the far distance which she faintly wishes she could have.

Kamil's skin is walnut and his hair is black, as are his eyes in the dusk, though in the daytime you see they are actually greyish purple. He's the same height as Will, only seeming taller because he's very slender, with beautiful, long-fingered hands. His face is closed and deliberately so. He doesn't want people to guess what he's thinking. He can look a little supercilious, with a profile as clean and proud as a Persian statue (he never grows a beard). But when he's playing with his daughter, or when he's with his horse, his face softens and little creases dance round his lips. Even when he's laughing, he manages to preserve an air of slight detachment. It's his shield against the world.

answers for Yana

This is a post for Yana, who kindly wrote to ask for some more de Granville details.

Hi, Yana!

I'm just catching my breath between events and journeys, so this is to say thank you for your email, I've noted the questions and I'll answer them very soon. I'm so glad you like the de Granvilles. Stay tuned! I'll be back in the next couple of days ...

Katie