jealous

ImageNothing to report on the writing front: I haven’t had time to do much, and still no positive responses from the agents I’ve contacted or the competitions I’ve entered. But I have had a bit of time to do some reading lately. I really enjoyed Tracey Thorn’s Bedsit Disco Queen, despite its ill-chosen title. She is exactly the same age as me, but had the vision and confidence to channel her love of pop music into a career in pop music, something that would never have occurred to my sixteen-year-old self in a million years. I also recently read What Was Lost, a book that was in the news several years ago when it won the Costa Book Award for its first-novelist author Catherine O’Flynn. It was OK, I guess. I didn’t think it was a great work of literature or anything. Her sentences were deft but in that smartarse, magaziney style. I’m probably just jealous. And I have to grudgingly admire any work of fiction that can throw in a casual reference to Bill Callahan and Smog.

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