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I’ve been thinking a lot about these the last few days. For a number of reasons. It’s just that there are so many different types. And I seem to be awash in them, with them. The acceptance of a gift brings responsibility. And openness. The giving of one, in the best world, means letting go. And a sort of hope.

There must be a small but determined fleet of these gift bubbles — I can’t help but see them as such, blown from one of those plastic child bottles, in surprising and joyful profusion — taking to the air over our double-glazed lives. This morning there’s a hard frost, but the urge to strike out and join them is almost overwhelming.

First there was Your Messages. Now there is Disraeli Avenue, by Caroline Smailes. I met Caroline at the Your Messages launch. But sort of knew her already, as she’d kindly reviewed Losing You.

She was lovely. I liked her piece. I’m embarrassed to admit that I haven’t read her novel In Search of Adam yet (because I’m not the best in the world at doing exactly what I want when I want, believe it or not; hand on heart though it is actually right at the top of my list).

About Disraeli Avenue: a novella by Caroline, downloadable, by donation. In support of adult victims of sexual abuse. Remember openness? Remember hope? Some days that’s all there is. When the bubbles disintegrate, we’ve got to make sure there are decent landings. Get this book. And give generously.

But here goes… Apparently Losing You is now available to download onto your very own mobile phone, for a fiver (GBP that is!). What you do is text ‘losing’ to 64888, hand over dosh, and the whole entire book is at your disposal: read it at your leisure, gawp on the train, purse your lips at the chemist’s, wipe your fevered brow…in bed? Race through screen after screen, ignoring every other commitment in your life….

You know you want to.

I haven’t tried this yet, but will. If someone gets there before I do, let me know how it goes!

Just a quickie to note that 30 pages of said novel are now where they are supposed to be, in the Fiction-Novel section of this site. Something about pdf formats meant that I couldn’t use the one I actually had…Or something.

Feel free. And be tempted. Be oh so tempted.

As soon as we wake, we know it’s the sharpest frost yet this season. Just lying in bed, the air — or imagined air — feels like the holidays.

Of course, we have to struggle up and get E moving — a difficult job after many late nights of first play performances then yet another concert last night (samba band, choir, and wind band - heavens!). To his credit, by after breakfast he’s awake enough to notice the lightening sky, brushes his teeth looking out the new (lowered) windows, over the fields and out to Blean Wood. He stands at one, I stand at the other, and we don’t need to say much. Fine mist rises from the tops of hedges, and every branch and leaf, blade of grass, stands out in white relief. He’s out the door at twenty to eight, no doubt sliding first down, then up the hill to the bus stop.

Losing You launch tonight. Some long-standing friends will be there, some new ones, and doubtless others I’ve never clapped eyes on! Good. This morning I’m feeling thankful for all sorts of things.

(image from a British wildlife site)

It would be remiss as all get-out (love this expression) of me not to mention that the launch for the paperback of Losing You is nearly upon us:

Date: THIS Thursday 13 December

Time: 7pm

Venue: Crockatt & Powell, London SE1

I’ve heard from a number of folks who say they’ll be there, and others bound for Christmas do’s who won’t. If you’re undecided because, say, it’s late night shopping, and you really need to get on — you could always come buy some books to give for presents?!

Speaking of Christmas do’s, when I was working in London (as a secretary for a real estate firm), we always had slap-up Christmas parties. The one that stays with me is the mortifying one, when I

a) said clearly and within ear shot of my boss that I wouldn’t be around more than another six months (I wasn’t),

b) slow-danced with the head of sales in the City and inevitably,

c) threw up when I got home.

Of course, I do love parties. But not like that. I like the sort of party where — another Christmas one, this time in Canterbury, at our house — you end up in the icy street, trying to balance a broom on your forehead, coloured star lights in all the surrounding windows. And no one falls down or gets sick. And the next morning you watch as cars do slow slides into each other in the bright sunshine, down gentle gradients as if part of a big dance. No one gets hurt there either, and people get out of the cars and laugh. And you’re inside drinking hot chocolate.

AGAIN!

Amongst the emboldened messages lined up like little soldiers yesterday I discovered a gem: another wonderful review. This time from (astute) Caroline Smailes, on what has got to be one of the most enticingly-titled blogs ever: What You Reading Caroline?

Here’s a taste:

A short read-in-one-sitting novel told in two parts, in two lyrical voices. A sparse yet precise piece of fiction that forces the reader to think about invisible words, about all that is left unsaid.

The story centres around the time just before and after Marilyn’s father’s death and is perhaps a study of the assumed within relationships…There is an eeriness, a darkness that comes from the invisible words, from the unspoken.

Crafted, skilfully paced and visual through familiarity…There are unanswered questions that the reader will never have responses to…I loved the layout and feel of this book. A beautiful object that added to the pleasure of the read.

What a treat! She’s also taken the trouble to put the review on amazon, for which I am grateful.

And I’m delighted to see once again some appreciation for the care bluechrome take with their books. Hear, hear! There’s none of this flimsy almost transparent paper, invisible margins, dense text and bendy covers malarky — no sir-ee Bob. If you’re going to do it, do it right. And they do. bluechrome books are a joy to (be)hold.

As in ‘watch out, it’s just going to keep coming!’. I’ve never known if this is a saying unique to my mother, or of the Southern US in general. If anyone has an inkling, do let me know…

There’s good reason to make such a comment this morning, though, because another fine review of Losing You has surfaced, this time from the Authortrek site. Despite blushing from the ‘flavour of the book’ section, I’m of course delighted — here’s most of the review bit, about which I’m blushing too, come to think of it (hence the pink):

This is a truly fantastic first novel from Patricia Debney, which all kicks off when Marilyn’s son Lewis asks “What happens when you die?” The prose and the plotting are very subtle, but also deliciously enticing. It’s not a surprise to discover that Patricia Debney’s short stories have been published in various anthologies, and that she is an award-winning poet…Her characterisation is superb, as Losing You is masterfully split between the narratives of Marilyn and her friend Hilary, along with very convincing portraits of their husbands…So, hats off to Bluechrome for recognising another brilliant writer.

Heavens!

Anyway, glad to see plaudits directed at bluechrome as well. Us authors have been swishing our hats off to the fastest growing publisher in Portishead for some time…

***

Also through today from Authortrek is a super review of Deborah Rey’s Rachel Sarai’s Vineyard. Which, coincidentally, I’ve so nearly finished myself! I won’t say more yet — but it is thoroughly engrossing.

All this just as Losing You comes out in paperback — and when Rachel Sarai’s Vineyard isn’t even on general release yet.

So watch out.