<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578</id><updated>2011-04-22T02:12:18.123+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Anne Cassidy Fiction Writer</title><subtitle type='html'>the weblog of Anne Cassidy, author of fiction for teenagers</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-110666642303461509</id><published>2005-01-25T15:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-01-25T15:20:23.100Z</updated><title type='text'>Cinderella Won't Go To the Ball</title><content type='html'>Sadly, my book, LOOKING FOR JJ, did not win the children's category in the Whitbread Award. This means I shall not be able to go to the awards ceremony this evening. It will be a posh do and there will probably be lots of Big Writers there as well as a sprinkling of celebrities. And, I see, Hugh Grant will be there. Blast! My only chance to rub shoulders with the Beautiful Ones and it has been scuppered! I shall sit by the TV, looking depressed, wearing my slipper sox, cuddling a glass of red wine. Meanwhile in The Brewery, glasses of champagne will tinkle in the night and sequins will sparkle and stiletto heels will spike out below long dresses. Everyone will be thrilled to be there and the five shortlisted writers will have their acceptance speeches folded up in their pockets ready to whip out at a moment's notice. Bravo! I truly wish them all the best of luck. I will sit and wait for a fairy godmother. Or failing that I will get on with the next chapter in my next book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-110666642303461509?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110666642303461509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110666642303461509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2005_01_23_archive.html#110666642303461509' title='Cinderella Won&apos;t Go To the Ball'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-110457620596542803</id><published>2005-01-01T10:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-01-01T14:50:47.330Z</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Resolutions</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;A new year, a new start. Things have to change.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1.&lt;/strong&gt; I will blog more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.&lt;/strong&gt; I will write in a more determined manner. I will not finish a paragraph and slide off onto the internet to see what's happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.&lt;/strong&gt; I will stop seeing the internet as a place, like Blue Water for example. That means I can no longer picture myself on train ( like the docklands light railway) with stops like Achuka, The BookTrust, Cool Reads etc. It's sad but I must face it. The internet does not exist. It lives in everybody's computers and disappears when they shut down. Or maybe, like the brain, it dreams all night....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.&lt;/strong&gt; I will alter my image of google as thousands of small people in fast forward mode, looking through tomes of books, newspapers, web sites for my name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5.&lt;/strong&gt; I will not weep if my book, &lt;strong&gt;JJ,&lt;/strong&gt; does not win the Whitbread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6.&lt;/strong&gt; I will visit more schools because meeting students and talking to them about stories reminds me of why I write. I am an entertainer without the jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7.&lt;/strong&gt; I will not change the name of a major character half way through a book. It's not clever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8.&lt;/strong&gt; I will not stalk teenagers in WHSmiths to see if they're looking at my books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9.&lt;/strong&gt; I will write for longer than twenty minutes at a time. I will not stop to see what's happening on daytime TV.... ......Back again. Daytime TV is not so bad and anyway it's important to keep a finger on the pulse the mainstream culture (and one day I may need to make a flower arrangement from a pineapple and some garden twigs)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10.&lt;/strong&gt; I will definitely not weep if &lt;strong&gt;JJ&lt;/strong&gt; does not win the Whitbread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now. I'm going back to my book &lt;strong&gt;The Fast Lane&lt;/strong&gt; and I'm a bit concerned about the main character's name. It's Jane at the moment but would it be better if it was Penelope or Julia or Priscilla...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-110457620596542803?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110457620596542803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110457620596542803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_12_26_archive.html#110457620596542803' title='New Year&apos;s Resolutions'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-110191876533236270</id><published>2004-12-01T16:25:00.001Z</published><updated>2004-12-01T16:32:45.333Z</updated><title type='text'>Turning Point</title><content type='html'>Last Saturday I attended a conference on young adult fiction. It was a great day with over two hundred people. The sessions were informative, thought provoking and funny. What is Young Adult Fiction??? Answers on a postcard, please. It was peopled with writers, librarians, publishers, journalists and just people who love teen books and care about this tiny and much unappreciated branch of publishing. I felt invigorated by the day. Hats off to Dave Belbin who organised it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-110191876533236270?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110191876533236270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110191876533236270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_11_28_archive.html#110191876533236270' title='Turning Point'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-110191876000048900</id><published>2004-12-01T16:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-12-01T16:32:40.000Z</updated><title type='text'>Turning Point</title><content type='html'>Last Saturday I attended a conference on young adult fiction. It was a great day with over two hundred people. The sessions were informative, thought provoking and funny. What is Young Adult Fiction??? Answers on a postcard, please. It was peopled with writers, librarians, publishers, journalists and just people who love teen books and care about this tiny and much unappreciated branch of publishing. I felt invigorated by the day. Hats off to Dave Belbin who organised it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-110191876000048900?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110191876000048900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110191876000048900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_11_28_archive.html#110191876000048900' title='Turning Point'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-110018361620758422</id><published>2004-11-11T14:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-11T14:33:36.206Z</updated><title type='text'>Better Late Than Never - November</title><content type='html'>I'm embarrassed to write this because it's so long since I've blogged. I have no excuses and intend to be more regular with my entries.&lt;br /&gt;A lot has happened.&lt;br /&gt;My book LOOKING FOR JJ has won the Booktrust Teenage Book Award and has also been shortlisted for the Whitbread Children's Book Award.&lt;br /&gt;I am in a state of shock. There is no other way to describe it. The most thrilling thing of all is to think that many people will read JJ's story. As I'm writing this now, someone, somewhere, might be opening the covers of the book and settling down to read.&lt;br /&gt;I hope they like it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-110018361620758422?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110018361620758422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/110018361620758422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_11_07_archive.html#110018361620758422' title='Better Late Than Never - November'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-109137814512188955</id><published>2004-08-01T17:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-01T17:35:45.120+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Good and Bad Things About School Visits</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;School visits can be wonderful. They can also be awful. Here are some points to bear in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Good Things About School Visits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I meet real students&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They talk about the books they read&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They give me immediate feedback on my books and ideas for stories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They laugh at bits that are meant to be funny&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They are shocked at some of my story lines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They are full of enthusiasm for my books which makes me feel grrrreat!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They give me info on the latest mobile phones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They gossip about Eastenders&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They want my autograph which makes me feel like Jackie Wilson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They look lovingly at my books which makes me think they're going to rush out and buy them!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Bad Things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's awful when you turn up and a teacher says, &lt;em&gt;I've never actually read any of your books...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When you drive to a school and can't actually get into their car park for security reasons.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When you arrive and announce yourself at reception to be told to take a seat and someone will be &lt;em&gt;along soon&lt;/em&gt;. Fifteen minutes later you're still sitting there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When you get stranded in a corridor between lessons. It's only just safer than being abandoned on a lane of the motorway in the rush hour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When you're led in and introduced to the students and you hear &lt;em&gt;Who? I thought we were having JKRowling...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;School dinners.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The library had no idea you were coming ( and have never heard of you anyway)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;There is no library.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You tell the students you have some books for sale and there are loud guffaws of laughter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You ask the students about he last book they've read and there is a heavy silence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So.. it's not all plain sailing. Why do I do school visits? Apart from it just getting me out of the house?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I like them!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-109137814512188955?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/109137814512188955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/109137814512188955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109137814512188955' title='Good and Bad Things About School Visits'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108998961720952623</id><published>2004-07-16T15:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-07-16T15:57:16.086+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick Note</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I can't believe it's so long since I blogged. I've been ill and busy in equal measure. I visited South London twice (very brave for a North Londoner like myself) and met many students who showed real enthusiasm for writing and books in general. I'm just about to go on holiday in North Yorkshire (taking a fleece) and then, when I come back, am going to start a new book called &lt;strong&gt;The Fast Lane&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;More about that the next time I blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108998961720952623?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108998961720952623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108998961720952623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_07_11_archive.html#108998961720952623' title='Sick Note'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108859789883709372</id><published>2004-06-30T12:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-06-30T13:24:47.956+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Writer - Person Specification</title><content type='html'>Probably one of the most important traits for a writer to have is &lt;em&gt;patience&lt;/em&gt;. Never mind about the determination, the ability to work for long hours on your own, the huge file of stories stored somewhere in your head. These things are important. Patience though is probably near the top of the list.&lt;br /&gt;When you first write a book you send it off to various publishers and hope, fingers crossed, that they will read it/ love it/buy it. When you actually post it you put a first class stamp because you don't want it hanging around the sorting office. You give it a week and then wait for a reply every day. After three months you feel desperate. After six you decide that you'll never write another line as long as you live and it will serve them right. When a grubby reply eventually appears saying &lt;em&gt;thanks but no thanks &lt;/em&gt;you act like a rejected contestant on Pop Idol for a few days but then you send it off somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;Once you're a published writer you think the waiting has ended. It has not!&lt;br /&gt;You have a great idea for a book. You may even have a climatic scene in your head where all is revealed or where your characters lives collide chaotically. You start to write. You know, in the back of your head, that you won't write that scene for maybe six months or more. It's like a journey on a slow moving train. You watch the scenery going by but you can't wait to get to your destination. You have to be patient.&lt;br /&gt;When the book is finished you wait. It has to be edited and checked by your publisher. It needs a cover and a sales strategy.You wait. It can take a year or more before you see it on the shelves of a bookshop. You hope for reviews. You fall on the newspaper as it comes into the house and search frantically. Then you wait for another week, another month, another quarterly.&lt;br /&gt;You have an idea for a new book. You put it down on paper and send it to your publisher.&lt;br /&gt;Then you wait for their answer. It can take a while. You twiddle your thumbs or go shopping at Marks and Spencers. You write a blog for your website.&lt;br /&gt;Then you go on waiting.........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108859789883709372?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108859789883709372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108859789883709372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_06_27_archive.html#108859789883709372' title='Writer - Person Specification'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108775072705182293</id><published>2004-06-20T17:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-06-20T17:58:47.053+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Twenty Four Seven Library</title><content type='html'>I woke up very early a few days ago and went to Tesco's. It was twenty past six and I was pushing my trolley around the aisles when I allowed myself a tiny fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;What if all libraries were open seven days a week, twenty four hours a day? What if, apart from Christmas Day, no library was ever shut?&lt;br /&gt;All sorts of new people would go. There would be the insomniacs who crept along the bookshelves in the early hours. The breakfast bunch, who would have croissants and coffee at the snack bar while flicking through the new fiction list. The early evening crowd, on their way out, picking up their new paperbacks in case there was a quiet moment in the pub. The late nighters who, after ten pints and a curry would drop in to chill out, picking over the day's papers or surfing the net for hangover cures.&lt;br /&gt;The librarians would be on shifts, some of them sleeping all day, so that they could come in at midnight to look after the books. They'd look different from the day staff. They'd wear black, a little ghoulish, with red lipstick and long painted nails and have names like, Rosalita or Spanish Johnny.&lt;br /&gt;There would always be a writer on hand. They would have their own office but the door would always be open. They would have to represent all writers and be prepared to explain poor plots, fill in character details, repair dodgy dialogue. However, they would never, never, never give away the ending of a book.&lt;br /&gt;The library would have to look different. It would need mood lighting and dimmer switches for the midnight hour. There would be individual chair side lamps and cushions everywhere in case people dozed off. One room would show back to back movies (horror at night - lighthearted comedy at lunchtime).&lt;br /&gt;There would be shag pile carpets and shower rooms and the librarians would bring round cups of tea or coffee in the night to keep everyone going.&lt;br /&gt;And there would be books. Millions of them. In piles around the place, beside chairs, on the floor, underneath lamps, by coffee cups, in people's hands, tucked under their arms, sitting in their bags waiting for later.&lt;br /&gt;No one would ever want to go home. Not even the librarians.&lt;br /&gt;I get to the till at Tesco's and a sleepy woman gives me a smile and a yawn. She announces my total and then asks for my loyalty card.&lt;br /&gt;And then I fall into another fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;If libraries had LOYALTY CARDS...............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108775072705182293?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108775072705182293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108775072705182293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_06_20_archive.html#108775072705182293' title='Twenty Four Seven Library'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108694034217317476</id><published>2004-06-11T08:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T08:54:18.146+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Shortest List</title><content type='html'>I am the sort of person who makes lists. When I go on holiday I have a list of things to take with me. When I visit a school I have a tick list of things I need. Whenever I feel a bit snowed under by the various things I have to do I sit down and make a list. It takes about 30 mins and has an enormous calming effect. It's as if I have transferred all my worries onto a piece of paper and I am in charge of them again. I prioritise. This means making another list. It takes more time but leaves me feeling organised and I know exactly which task has to be completed first and which is last.&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere on this list is the item &lt;strong&gt;Write 250 words&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It's strange to think that a writer needs to remind themselves to write, indeed to command themselves to write. It happens. &lt;br /&gt;It's very nice to see, that for once, someone else has made a list and I am on it. &lt;strong&gt;The Booktrust Teenage Book Award &lt;/strong&gt;has announced its shortlist this week. Eight books and &lt;strong&gt;LOOKING FOR JJ &lt;/strong&gt;is one of them.&lt;br /&gt;I am delighted but wait - it means that I must add the other seven shortlisted books to my Things To Do list. Um..&lt;br /&gt;The best thing to do is go shopping. Oddly, going shopping is the one thing I do without a list.... &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108694034217317476?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108694034217317476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108694034217317476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_06_06_archive.html#108694034217317476' title='The Shortest List'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108644563708946696</id><published>2004-06-05T15:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-06-05T15:29:32.080+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Message in a Bottle</title><content type='html'>I've been writing books for a long time. Each time I write a book it lives with me for the months that I'm working on it. I think endlessly about the characters and situations and worry, worry, worry whether it's convincing, whether the plot works, whether it has enough momentum to propel the reader to the very last page. When I'm finished I pass it on to my publisher who then edits / corrects / passes it on to the booksellers.&lt;br /&gt;Then &lt;strong&gt;I don't know &lt;/strong&gt;what happens to it.&lt;br /&gt;It's as if I've written a very long message and put it into a bottle and thrown it over the side of a ship.&lt;br /&gt;It may sit in a bookshop for a day or a very long time. It may be bought by mum / gran / aunty / teen boy or girl. It might sit in the paper bag or be wrapped in birthday paper. It may stand on a bookshelf or lie in the bottom of a school bag, crushed by other books. It may have crisps between its pages or its corner may be soaked in soft drink. It may have been used as something to lean on or as a weapon, thrown across a room. A teacher could have confiscated it or a parent thrown it into the bin by mistake.&lt;br /&gt;It may even have been read from cover to cover by someone curled up on an armchair or covered with a duvet. For a few hours it may have taken root in someone's mind, created a world there with people they have never known and will never meet.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what happens to my stories. Like a message in a bottle I cannot predict where they will end up, washed up on the shore of some library / bedroom / second hand bookshop / black plastic bin liner / dog basket.&lt;br /&gt;All the while I look out to sea wondering.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108644563708946696?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108644563708946696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108644563708946696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_05_30_archive.html#108644563708946696' title='Message in a Bottle'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108573210477985112</id><published>2004-05-28T08:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-28T09:21:32.366+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Stalking the Bookshops</title><content type='html'>I spent a brilliant day yesterday at the Birmingham Young Readers' Festival. I met Kate Cann and Eleanor Updale, two other writers and we chatted for hours. I also met some really friendly school students who came up and had a chat after the talk.&lt;br /&gt;One of the things that came up in the discussion was the fact that many (or even all) writers go into bookshops and look for copies of their books on the shelves. When they find them they usually take a shifty look around to make sure that there aren't any shop assistants nearby and then they place their book, cover out, in the most prominent position they can find. &lt;br /&gt;Indeed I see this as part of my job; promoting my books.  Every shopping trip I do (Lakeside, Blue Water, Oxford Street) involves visits to bookshops and some sneaky rearranging of their displays. You may be suprised to see a book by Anne Cassidy sitting face out in the Jackie Wilson section or in among the Anthony Horrowitz titles. You may think, &lt;em&gt;That's not in alphabetical order!&lt;/em&gt; The truth is it has been moved by the author. They may even still be around, lingering at the nearby cookery section, keeping a careful eye on customers at the teen shelves.&lt;br /&gt;I have a shameful episode to confess. About a year ago I was in a bookshop (nameless) and I spied two girls picking up copies of my books &lt;strong&gt;Missing Judy &lt;/strong&gt;and &lt;strong&gt;Love Letters&lt;/strong&gt;. My excitement was palpable. I edged closer longing to over hear their conversation, hoping for words like &lt;em&gt;This book is excellent!&lt;/em&gt; In the end I could contain myself no longer. I moved closer and announced &lt;em&gt;I wrote that book!&lt;/em&gt;. The astonished teenagers looked uneasy and then one of them, bless her, said, &lt;em&gt;Well done!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realising the embarrassing situation I'd put them and myself in and noticing a concerned looking mother marching in my direction I took off, out of the bookshop, and scuttled up to River Island and hid in the hipster jeans section.&lt;br /&gt;Shame was my middle name. &lt;br /&gt;Ever since I have been afraid that the bookshop in question may have a poster of me taken from their CCTV cameras, a hazy image and the words &lt;strong&gt;Have You Seen This Woman?&lt;/strong&gt; Guilty of tampering with book displays. So I have to go in disguise.&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108573210477985112?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108573210477985112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108573210477985112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_05_23_archive.html#108573210477985112' title='Stalking the Bookshops'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108512322110027456</id><published>2004-05-21T07:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-21T08:07:27.280+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrity Imports</title><content type='html'>Billy Joel(Up Town Girl) is writing a children's book. Charlie Higson (Fast Show) is also writing a book for children. Madonna has already done so. The bookshops are polishing their tills. They are probably sweeping aside copies of lesser known writers (like myself) in order to make way for great piles of the celeb books.&lt;br /&gt;Am I bitter? I am.&lt;br /&gt;Charlie Higson is writing a young James Bond story. Charlie, I love your work but writing a children's book is not like making love to a beautiful woman. &lt;br /&gt;Why do celebs have a sudden interest in children's books? Is it because the child within them has always had a story to tell and their celebrity status is giving them the chance? Or is it because they have cast a canny eye over the squillions earned by Harry Potter? Or is it the latest fad that celebs just try everything? Jungle life? Cooking for Gordon Ramsay? &lt;em&gt;Hey! Let's write a book for kids. How hard can it be?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who will be next? Jordan? Victoria Beckham? Brad Pitt?&lt;br /&gt;There is another reason that I am concerned. Us children's writers are a solid and &lt;em&gt;cerebral&lt;/em&gt; lot.By and large we don't put glamour at the top of our list of priorities. Now, if we are to be swamped by celebs, this might have to change. I will not be able to wear my M and S trousers and blouse to functions if I am signing my books next to Ms Beckham. I may also have consider several improvements in my image. A facelift? A boob job? A make over? Hair extentions? I will most certainly have to have collagen and botox and perhaps even liposuction. Colleagues, fellow children's writers, you will have consider these things as well.&lt;br /&gt;If I am to continue being a children's writer I will have to become an Uptown Girl.&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108512322110027456?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108512322110027456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108512322110027456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_05_16_archive.html#108512322110027456' title='Celebrity Imports'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108473027437507064</id><published>2004-05-16T18:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-16T18:57:54.376+01:00</updated><title type='text'>New Identity</title><content type='html'>This weekend there has been an awful lot of articles and discussion about Maxine Carr who has been released from prison. She has become a hate figure and has to live the rest of her life under a new name and perhaps in fear of reprisals. The newspapers talk about her receiving death threats and having to wear a bullet proof vest. I imagine that she will always be looking over her shoulder, afraid of someone finding her out.&lt;br /&gt;In my book &lt;strong&gt;Looking for JJ &lt;/strong&gt;I wrote about a situation like this. My main character &lt;em&gt;Jennifer Jones &lt;/em&gt;killed her friend when she was ten years old. When she is released from prison six years later she must live with a new identity. Unlike Maxine Carr she has changed physically so cannot be easily recognised. Her fear is that someone will follow a paper trail and find her.&lt;br /&gt;The new life she has is good. She lives with a loving carer and has a boyfriend. She has a job and a university place waiting for her. She goes shopping and does ordinary things. Her new life is good, better in fact than the one she would have had if she had not committed her crime.&lt;br /&gt;But her guilt will not allow her to metamorphose into someone else. Underneath she will always be a ten year girl who took her friend's life. Every time she feels happy she asks herself &lt;em&gt;Have I a right to be happy, like this?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what will become of Maxine Carr? There was something of the child about her, wearing a garish Mickey mouse teashirt when she went to court. I wonder if she will ever be able to leave her old self behind?&lt;br /&gt;Could any of us do this completely? It's an intriguing thought. Perhaps that's why I wrote &lt;strong&gt;Looking for JJ&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is very serious. Will lighten up for the next. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108473027437507064?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108473027437507064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108473027437507064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_05_16_archive.html#108473027437507064' title='New Identity'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108436766321349338</id><published>2004-05-12T13:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-12T14:14:23.213+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Titles and Avoidance Techniques</title><content type='html'>Am still working on &lt;strong&gt;Careless&lt;/strong&gt; but this morning I used one of my avoidance techniques. I told myself I had to go shopping. I didn't actually have anything specific to buy (except a cake from M and S) but a walk around the mall seemed preferable to sitting at my computer writing.&lt;br /&gt;Many writers that I know have a range of avoidance techniques. They have cats and dogs that need talking to. They have emails to send. They have chocolate biscuits to finish and newspapers that demand to be read. Me? I go to the mall and wander round the shops seeing what's new and what's on sale. I tell myself that it is a kind of research. I keep my finger on the pulse of life (insofar as it is lived in a shopping mall).&lt;br /&gt;It reminded me of a title I once found from walking round the shops. It was near Valentines Day and I was looking for ideas for a book. I thought about someone receiving a valentine card then the next thing that jumped into my head was someone receiving a love letter. That was it. &lt;strong&gt;Love Letters&lt;/strong&gt;. It's the tile of an old record I liked when I was a teenager. In my book though, the love letters turn out to be something unpleasant. This made me think about titles in general. Titles come quite easily to me. &lt;strong&gt;Careless &lt;/strong&gt;is about a boy in care who hasn't had a good life. The word &lt;em&gt;careless &lt;/em&gt;seemed to work on two levels. My book &lt;strong&gt;Missing Judy &lt;/strong&gt;has a double meaning. Her sister &lt;em&gt;misses&lt;/em&gt; Judy. The police are looking for the &lt;em&gt;missing&lt;/em&gt; Judy...I love titles like that. When I started writing crime books my editor told me that I could have any title as long as it had the word &lt;strong&gt;death&lt;/strong&gt; in it. So I chose &lt;strong&gt;Driven to Death&lt;/strong&gt;. After that a lot of my crime books had the word death in the title.&lt;br /&gt;These days I like short snappy titles. I've just finished a book called &lt;strong&gt;Birthday Blues &lt;/strong&gt;(alliteration - I like that in a title). It's about an abandoned baby and the story starts on someone's birthday (also &lt;em&gt;birth&lt;/em&gt; day).&lt;br /&gt;So I was walking around M and S looking for a good title and I thought about old songs. A favourite song of mine when I was a teen was &lt;em&gt;I Say a Little Prayer for You &lt;/em&gt;(too long and sounds religious). Another song was &lt;em&gt;My Girl&lt;/em&gt; (possible)&lt;br /&gt;Or finally &lt;em&gt;Young Girl Run Free &lt;/em&gt;(um...). Now all I have to think of it a story to go with it.&lt;br /&gt;Back to the computer unless the dog wants a word. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108436766321349338?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108436766321349338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108436766321349338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_05_09_archive.html#108436766321349338' title='Titles and Avoidance Techniques'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108409454873224057</id><published>2004-05-09T09:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-09T10:26:59.200+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Exciting Day</title><content type='html'>This morning I had the first chance to view my new website. It's a glorious pink colour and full of info about my books. Thrilling.&lt;br /&gt; I am also still working on &lt;strong&gt;Careless&lt;/strong&gt; my book about a boy in care. It's something I've been writing on and off for years. Sometimes a story gets you like that. You keep going back to it and changing this or that. With &lt;strong&gt;Careless&lt;/strong&gt; I've kept the original shape of it and worked on the characters from time to time. I think it's powerful. The main character Nicky has had an awful life and wants to blame someone. I want him to be cruel and sympathetic at the same time. It means I have to think about the situations that I put him in. There's a girl, as well and she's getting over the death of her mum. It's a dark book but has an optimistic ending. &lt;br /&gt; I always know when a story is going well. I can't wait to get the computer turned on in the morning and get back to it. When a story is going badly, that's when I find reasons to avoid the computer. I watch day time TV and/or go out shopping. Sometimes I do those things anyway. I am an expert on buying a home abroad even though I've never done it. I'm also a News 24 fan. I like to know what's going on in the world.&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108409454873224057?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108409454873224057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108409454873224057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_05_09_archive.html#108409454873224057' title='Exciting Day'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108392464015957028</id><published>2004-05-07T11:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-07T11:15:08.060+01:00</updated><title type='text'>rewriting careless</title><content type='html'>working hard today&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108392464015957028?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108392464015957028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108392464015957028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_05_02_archive.html#108392464015957028' title='rewriting careless'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6850578.post-108340573654203816</id><published>2004-05-01T11:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-01T11:06:36.280+01:00</updated><title type='text'>test</title><content type='html'>test&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6850578-108340573654203816?l=annesweblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108340573654203816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6850578/posts/default/108340573654203816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://annesweblog.blogspot.com/2004_04_25_archive.html#108340573654203816' title='test'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04883636457983646005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
