Tag Archives: writing

The Joy of Writing Neurotica

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I’m biting my fingernails. I don’t know if I should tell you this or not. I don’t know what you’ll think of me if I do. I’ve racked my brain for hours, and I’ve lost sleep over trying to decide if I should share my secret. But then I wonder if you already know. Some of my close friends know because I confided in them, though they might possibly have already figured it out. Most of them are okay with it. Really. At least I think so …Most of them understand and are even empathetic. At least I hope so …

Okay, I’m just going to take a deep breath and tell you! Here goes!

I’m very, very neurotic. There. I said it. It’s the truth. I’m neurotic and most writers are! No wait, that’s such a blanket statement. Please, if you’re a writer who isn’t neurotic, please don’t take it personally. I really didn’t mean to insult you or anything, and I hope you’ll forgive me and like me anyway.

My neuroses are many, but I have two biggies. The first is guilt. I feel guilty for watching three episodes of The Tudors on an evening when the Work in Progress is waiting untouched on the computer. Just because I wrote all day long doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have written a few more hours. Being a member of the international guild of neurotic writers means I always feel guilty, and if I don’t, then I feel guilty for not feeling guilty. I feel guilty for not writing enough. I feel guilty for writing too much and not keeping up with the housework. I feel guilty for needing too much sleep when I’m sure I should be writing. I feel guilty for not being able to sleep when I do go to bed. And since I can’t sleep shouldn’t I be up writing? Or cleaning house?

My other biggie is that I worry. I worry all the time. I feel guilty if I’m not worrying because surely I’ve missed something important or I’d be worrying. I worry that someone won’t like what I’ve written, and if they don’t like my baby, I worry that maybe they’re right not to like my baby and maybe my baby really is ugly and I just can’t see it. And if they don’t like my baby, maybe they don’t like me either. I worry about sales, I worry about promos. I worry about deadlines, I worry about rewrites. I worry about what will happen if I wake up in the morning and can’t think of a single word to write. I worry if my tomato plants will get blight this year, and I worry about the strange noise that comes out of our water heater periodically. My husband says I worry over just about everything. Still, I worry that I’ve missed something.

Guilt and worry. Those are the biggies. There are others. Lots of others. I’m afraid of loud noises too, and I don’t like rubber bands, but those are fairly innocuous compared to guilt and worry.

So now that you’ve heard my confession, here’s the part where when life gives me lemons I make lemonade. I write neurotica! That’s it. You heard me right. I write neurotica. It’s sort of a ‘physician heal thyself ‘tactic, really. It’s a case of me projecting all my lovely neuroses onto my characters and watching the crazy, twitchy, unbalanced fun unfold. Come on now, I can’t be the only writer who does this, am I? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not accusing anyone. Really! I believe you if you say you don’t do that. I even believe you if you say you don’t have any neuroses to project onto your characters. However, if you are neurotic and you’re not really using your neuroses on your characters at the moment, can I borrow them? I’ve got this new story in mind …

It’s true though, I can create the most realistic, multi-layered guilt complexes in my characters. And angst, oh how I can write angst! And every time one of my characters wrings her hands and walks the floor in the middle of a sleepless night. I nail it. And every time my character feels guilty for not being open and honest and carefree and at home in her own skin, boy, do I nail it. My characters are my therapy, poor things, and in some strange way they make me feel better about myself. They make me feel a little less neurotic. They exist in my head, and yet they often give me insights into my own unpristine psyche that I would otherwise miss. How do they do that? Is it only because of my projection? I feel sort of guilty for being so mean to them sometimes. But then I worry that maybe I’m just being too soft and sentimental about the whole thing.

IS Kay Jaybee The Collector?

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It’s been almost five years since I wrote my linked anthology-style novel, The Collector, and almost four years since it was published. With the recent release of this, my very first solo full length piece, as an e-book, I’ve found myself looking back to its origins; to one early morning sat in a crowded coffee shop at Heathrow airport, talking to a very dear friend on the phone, while awaiting a flight.

It was due to that brief conversation that, not only was the idea for The Collector conceived, but that I privately made the decision to stay in the world of erotica writing, and not branch out to try my luck with other genres.

At the time of The Collector’s arrival as a paperback in August 2008, I’d already had a fair number of short stories published, and was bursting with plenty of ideas for new ones. However, I wanted to write something longer; something that was as long as a novel, but that had the variety of an anthology.

So, as I was saying, there I was sat sipping coffee at the airport when my friend called me. All he said down the phone was ‘go buy The Observer.’ Curious, I did just that, and there, between a front cover shot of Joan Collins, and a back cover advert for new encyclopaedia’s, was an article all about female erotica writers.

Now this was even more of a hidden world then, and as I read I knew I wanted to stay part of it, and even dreamed that one day I’d be in such an article- without really believing that would ever really happen!

Enthused with new zip and a determination to be every bit as successful as those brave women revealing their secret writing persona’s to the press, I extracted my ever ready notebook from my bag, and began to look at the people around me. I wanted to write- but where to start? As I watched the ever moving crowd, I began to wonder what each individual would want me to write for them. What would their fantasies be? What kinky secrets of their own would they share given half the chance?

It was from these musings that the idea for The Collector was born. A book of stories ‘collected’ by a woman in pursuit of as many sexual exploits as she could. And what better way to start, than to combine my own dream to one day be a successful writer of erotica, and the fantasy of one of my other friends, who (like so many others, be they male or female) visualises being picked up by a beautiful intelligent woman for sex in a no strings attached way. This story became, New Territory, the first of the 22 stories within The Collector; a tale which had been completely drafted by the time my plane reached its destination.

My search then began in earnest for interesting triggers, ideas, and sexy dreams, to turn into stories. Some very short to stimulate the readers imagination, such as Jay (a lesbian night club orgy) and Crushed (an interesting way to pass the time in a bar queue). Others much longer, such as Sweets (a must read if you like liquorice) and Treasure (a young man’s dream come true!).

I knew it would be a gamble including the very short tales- as they either really appeal, or really frustrate- but on the whole the feedback from my reader’s has been good. It would also be true to say, the shorter stories were much harder to write than the longer ones, but were a lot of fun to construct around the fantasy’s I gleaned from my sources of research.

So- how much of The Collector did I really collect? Well- that would be telling, but if I haven’t thanked my sources of inspiration already, then I do now!

Blurb:

Dispelling the myth that only dominant whip wielding women write and enjoy erotica, the Collector records a wide variety of sexual encounters whilst she travels the country.

Harvesting her stories against a backdrop of coffee shops, restaurants and bus rides, the Collector takes the reader through every arena of the erotic experience, from lust, submission and dominance, to voyeurism and beyond. When her sources run dry, the Collector isn’t afraid to carry out some in-depth, personal, research of her own…

Excerpt:

New Territory

It hadn’t seemed significant when he’d noticed which page she’d left the colour supplement open at. Perhaps it wasn’t; coincidences happened all the time. No. He saw now that it was no accident; she had been trying to tell him something.

She was sat at the corner table at the very back of the coffee shop. The armchairs were rather comfortable in that area; he always tried to sit there. As he worked his way along the queue, collecting an almond danish and ordering a frighteningly large black coffee he watched her. Sitting slightly upright, she was partially obscured by a copy of The Observer, her long booted legs curled under the armchair, her red hair framing her small face. She was sipping a cappuccino. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her develop a foam moustache, and quite uncaring, lick it off with her tongue. He looked away and concentrated on his tray as he pushed towards the till. It was disconcerting to find himself aroused by such a simple act. He paid, collected his sugar and turned to find a seat.

He could have sat anywhere, but she already felt like an itch needing a scratch. He had to talk to her. So what if she told him to piss off, he was only going to ask if he could share the table.

He asked and she inclined her head, not glancing up for more than a second; so he sat. This was new territory for him; he’d never felt such a need to say something, anything. He was the good looking one; the one who never had to say anything. They came to him.  Now the silence seemed to be an oppressive presence in itself, like a whole extra person in the room who wasn’t saying anything.

This was ridiculous. He picked up his own paper, folded it to the business pages and took a bite of his pastry, trying not to mind that icing sugar was dusting his new black jacket.She’d finished her drink. He flirted with the idea of offering to buy her a new one, but quickly dismissed it. He hadn’t even said hello to her. So why did he feel that time was running out? Why did he feel a strange sensation of panic that she was going to leave before he’d heard her voice?

As she unfolded her legs and tided her papers she picked up her large brown rucksack, pulled out some keys and stood in front of him. He looked up into her face. He was being assessed. It was a strange sensation; he usually did the assessing.

‘Are you coming then?’ She spoke very softly, her green eyes shining with a sort of inner power.He was about to ask if she was sure, but she’d already turned around and was heading for the door.

He was well aware of the fact that he was probably about to make a total fool of himself, but he followed anyway. She walked very quickly; striding along in impossibly high heels. It hadn’t occurred to him until that point that she might be a hooker. What if she was? He’d just walk away. Maybe?

He followed as she turned down a gap between two shops. There was a flight of black iron stairs that led up to a flat above one of them. She stopped. ‘Two things,’ she undid her leather jacket as she spoke, hitching her scarf open to reveal a delicate neck completely unadorned by jewellery, ‘one; I do not do this for money, and two; I am not inviting you in for coffee.’

He nodded, undid his own coat, and followed her up the stepsThe hall was very narrow; it led into a modest kitchen diner, where she placed her paper open the table. Sorting out the magazine, she opened it up as if she was going to settle down to read, but then didn’t.

 He hadn’t got as far as making small talk. In fact he hadn’t even got as far as attempting to make small talk, when she took him by the hand and led him into the small living room, sitting him down on the small cream sofa. She knelt and, placing a restraining hand on his leg, undid his shoes and placed them neatly to one side. Then she did the same with his socks. ‘I don’t like naked in socks.’That was when his body stopped making his hands clammy and his heart beat faster, and sent all excess blood directly to his dick. He’d known he’d been half way to a hard-on already, but now there was no disguising the fact.

‘You would be a Coldplay man, or maybe Keane? Dido?’ She stood by the tiny stereo.

‘Dido.’

She nodded, pressed buttons and waited as the haunting notes built up to the opening number.

He should do something. He tried to stand, but she just raised her hand, and he quickly sat down again. Maybe this wasn’t his show; new territory.

She was standing about two metres away from him. Her jacket had already hit the floor, and he caught his breath as he watched her long slim fingers begin to undo the buttons of her white blouse. She looked straight at him the whole time; each movement was in time to the music, and he found himself wishing that he’d chosen something with a faster pace.

His throat felt dry as she revealed a beautiful cream bra. He could see her nipples, hard and dark, pressing against the thin lace. He started to wonder how wet she would be, and then stopped himself; if he started to think like that he’d shoot his load before he even got his trousers off; if that was her intention. He’d never felt so unsure of himself as she stepped out of her suede skirt, letting it drop over her boots.

Now he desperately wanted to touch. The smooth shoulders that had just been revealed cried out to be caressed. Anyway, he was becoming uncomfortable; his cock was digging into his waistband, as it struggled to force itself from his jeans unaided. He should say something, but he didn’t want to break the spell.

She stopped. He stared at the floor by her feet and worked his eyes slowly upwards. He tried to imprint the vision before him onto his brain inch by inch. High heeled boots; beige. Soft pale flesh emerging from lace hold ups; cream. Slightly see-through French knickers; cream. ‘Keep going; try to drag your eyes away from the neat silhouetted triangle your eyes can just make out’, he thought to himself as he swallowed, continuing his inventory. A flat stomach with a neat belly button. A cream lace bra encasing neatly rounded breasts which poked tantalisingly over the top. He took a deep breath and looked at her face. Small features, bobbed red hair, deep green eyes which gave absolutely nothing away.

The room was charged with electricity; so enticing, so dangerous. She moved forward and gestured for him to stand. He hadn’t been able to suppress his groan as he stood. His stomach felt strange and his dick ached to be free from its confinement.

He waited, doing nothing. He didn’t know what to do, so he let her take control; keep control. She took his belt first; pulling it out very slowly, loop by loop. She smoothed the brown leather between her fingers. ‘I like belts’. That was all she said, but he suddenly realised that he wanted to hit her with it. He needed to yank down her knickers and punish her for being perfect.

The Collector was published by Austin & Macauley as a paperback in 2008, and as an e-book in March 2012.

It is available direct from the publisher, from Amazon, Sh Women’s Store’s, and all good paperback and e-book suppliers.

Amazon paperback– http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Collector-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1905609191/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1334781262&sr=1-1

Amazon kindle – http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Collector-ebook/dp/B007NZNGW4/ref=dp_kinw_strp_1?ie=UTF8&m=A3TVV12T0I6NSM

Austin & Maculey – http://www.austinmacauley.com/advanced_search_result.php?osCsid=1e3c63008937557651aa5ae883ba9905&search_in_description=1&keywords=kay+jaybee&x=12&y=10

 

 

Scarborough, UK to Host Saucy Seaside Smut Convention

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I’ve lived in the UK long enough to know that the only predictable thing about the weather is that it’s unpredictable. However, there are exceptions. I can predict beyond a shadow of a doubt that there will be a sizzling, squirmy, humid heatwave in Scarborough on June 22nd next year. It’s the smutty kind of heatwave that guarantees fun, laughter and a heavy dew, and I promise, you won’t want to miss it.

April 2012, The North, United Kingdom.

Convention for erotica readers and writers to be held in the seaside town of Scarborough on June 22nd, 2013.

Do you like to be beside the seaside? Or more specifically, do you like to be smutty beside the seaside? If so, then the Smut by the Sea Convention and Erotic Marketplace is for you!

The brainchild of Victoria Blisse and Kevin Mitnik, with help from their glamorous assistant, Lucy Felthouse, Smut by the Sea promises to be a smut-filled extravaganza in the beautiful seaside setting of Victorian Scarborough. The town’s library will be hosting the event.

Forget fish and chips, candy floss and ice cream – visit the dedicated Erotic Marketplace, including exhibitors Xcite Books and House of Erotica, with many more yet to be confirmed. Buy toys and books and all manner of saucy things. And don’t forget to get those books signed by the authors in attendance!

You’ll be wriggling in your seat when you attend a range of sexy readings from erotic authors including Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse, K D Grace and Lexie Bay.

Or perhaps you’d like to attend informative panels on getting published, marketing your work and other smut related activities? It’s all covered, so you can check out whatever tickles your fancy!

It’s certainly going to be a fun-filled day – but it doesn’t stop there! In the evening will be the official launch of the Smut by the Sea anthology (calls for submissions available at http://smutbythesea.co.uk/call-for-submissions/, closing date 1st June 2012 – edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse), with readings from the authors, and some seriously saucy swag bags with gifts from sponsors Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium, Total-E-Bound and Lovehoney, to name but a few.

Just as you’re settling down from hearing all those fabulously naughty stories, your heart rate will be rising once more as the result of an intermission with burlesque dancers!

Finally, there will be a Q&A panel with a range of authors, book signings and some good old fashioned networking and socialising.

It’s still early days so there will be lots more authors, sponsors, exhibitors and attendees coming on board as the conference draws closer, but hopefully this has given you an idea of what to expect from Smut by the Sea.

So, what are you waiting for? Mark your diaries for Smut by the Sea, 22nd June 2013. Early Bird tickets have been released, and there are less than 200 available at this bargain price, so make sure to grab yours quick, before it’s too late! http://smutbythesea.eventbrite.co.uk/

Keep your eyes on the following links for further information on sponsors, attending authors, exhibitors and more:

Website: http://smutbythesea.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/smutbythesea

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/smutbythesea

Also, just for a bit of fun, you can share your seaside themed photos on the Pinterest page: http://pinterest.com/mitnik/smut-by-the-sea/

The event is still taking on more exhibitors, sponsors, speakers and readers, so if you’d like to get involved, please http://smutbythesea.co.uk/contact-us/

About Smut by the Sea

The brainchild of Victoria Blisse and Kevin Mitnik, the Smut by the Sea Erotic Readers & Authors Convention & Erotic Marketplace takes place in Scarborough in June 2013. It will be a smut filled extravaganza with readings, burlesque, panels, Q&As, workshops, erotica and more. See http://smutbythesea.co.uk for more details.

About Blisse UK

Blisse UK is the team of Victoria Blisse and Kevin Mitnik. Specialising in bespoke creations, working together they strive to bring originality and excellence into all that they do. Victoria is an award-winning author & Kevin is a twice Webbie winning web designer. They have over 15 years experience of creating successful websites with a portfolio of recent works available on http://blisseuk.com. Smut by the Sea is a new venture as they combine their love of the seaside with a love of erotica.

 

Getting My Hands Dirty

Blog, Inspiration, , ,
The mini greenhouse all clean with new covers. Seedlings in the first one.

I drive myself crazy writing sometimes. I’m tunnel-visioned, and I don’t always know when to call a halt. I’ve kept my head down for the first three months of this year. I’ve written hard, and long, and lots — plus the PR. But there comes a time when a girl just has to get her hands dirty before she can write another word. This is that time!

My husband and I spent a good chunk of our day working in our veg patch – well our future veg patch. At the moment there are only a few over-wintering cauliflower and broccoli plants remaining, and a strawberry patch sorely in need of cleaning. At the moment the whole of 2012’s veg garden can be contained in two large draining trays and part of one mini greenhouse, all zipped in for extra warmth. But in a few months, my-oh-my, you won’t recognize the place. We’ll have sweet corn higher than our heads, tomato plants ladened with a dozen different varieties from all over the tomato growing world; we’ll have tee-pees of climbing beans and peas, vines of yellow and green courgettes and multiple varieties of brassicas. That’s not even counting the soft fruit and the dwarf root stock apple trees. I know, I know! Now I’m just bragging!

We’ve got trays of seeds planted and sitting on water bottles in the kitchen (our low tech, unorthodox

Newly planted seeds all toasty on their water bottles.

system to speed up germination.) What has already germinated has had a week or two to grow on in the house and was transplanted today into our mini greenhouses, which are now soaped, scrubbed and sporting new plastic covers. My husband has potted eight large pots of seed potatoes (with our limited space, we grow spuds in pots), and the dreaming and scheming of what will go where is well under way.

As we scrubbed and planted and labelled seed trays, the resident blackbird made short work of any worms that were uncovered as we cleaned the patio and did a bit of weeding in the main bed. He and the Mrs are feeding chicks, so he came and went, each time filling his beak full to overflowing. When he wasn’t hunting and gathering, he was perched in the ash trees above our garden singing loudly just in case any other blackbird should doubt this this nice piece of real estate, where he gets fed currents and meal worms on demand, belongs to him. I hope my timing is good. I hope that by the time the chicks fledge I’ll have large courgette leaves and tee-pees ladened in runner beans for them to scurry about underneath and hide.

Ready to go to the greenhouses

The whole back garden is alive. There are three starling nests in the eaves and a nuthatch coming and going on a regular basis, as well as tits and doves and wood pigeons, who brazenly nip at the leaves of the cauliflower plants whenever they feel like it.

My husband has convinced the people who run the canteen at his office to save him their coffee grounds. All winter long, several times a week he came home bearing a large yellow plastic bucket full of coffee grounds, which he spreads over the garden. We joked about the worms being hyped up on caffeine. And I still smile to think about my husband, the very dapper business man, walking to and from his office several times a week carrying a large yellow bucket.

Tonight I feel better. Tonight I feel more like my writerly self again. What is it about

I'm anticipating

getting my hands in the earth that is so healing? Perhaps it’s a different kind of creativity, a kind in which I’m really only a facilitator. I can make sure the conditions are right. But what it takes for a paper thin, nearly weightless, not much bigger than the head of a pin, tomato seed to grow into a chest-high plant ladened with heavy, meaty, luscious fruit, well that’s something else altogether, and something that astounds me and amazes me every single time it happens. A new season is just beginning. The process is just getting started, and I’m like a kid at Christmas time, just waiting for it all to unfold again.

A Chat with the Fabulous Jane Wenham-Jones

Blog, Interviews, , , , ,

My guest today is an amazing, multi-talented woman, who knows how to put people at ease, make any interview shine AND write a damn good novel! Please welcome the fabulous Jane Wenham-Jones!

KD: Jane, you truly are a woman of many talents. Your website is very inspiring, especially your story! Fiction, non-fiction, columns, mags, telly, radio. I have to ask, which part of being Jane Wenham-Jones, multi-talented professional woman, do you like best?

JANE: My problem is that I love it all and there aren’t the hours in the day! I really do enjoy interviewing other writers and doing the presenting/chairing panels events, that I do at Guildford Book Festival, Romantic Novelists’ Association conference etc. Would love to do more of that. I just co-hosted the Romantic Novel of the Year Awards with Peter James. And then I’m doing an “in conversation with” Tim Bentinck (David Archer in The Archers) end of March – that will be fun too. But I have to say I’m feeling it’s time to start writing another book and ought to be chaining myself to the desk….

KD: What does Jane Wenham-Jones do for inspiration?

JANE: Gets out and about with a glass in her hand…

KD: I could paper my house with the rejections I received from agents before I finally got publishes, also without an agent. So your experience of getting published without an agent really resonated with me, as I’m sure it does with lots of writers. Do you think the un-agented route to publication is the maverick route or do you think it’s the wave or the future?

JANE: I think it may be the necessity of the future! It can be really hard to get an agent and as you know (I tell the whole ghastly story in Wannabe a Writer?) I ended up with a two-book deal with Transworld, without one. But I always advise other writers to try their very best to get an agent first. I have one now and wouldn’t be without her (even if she is terrifying – I don’t call her The Fearsome One for nothing).

KD: Which do you enjoy most, writing fiction or writing non-fiction?

JANE: I think I find non-fiction easier! But it is very satisfying to sit and look through a novel one’s dreamt up oneself.

KD: You said on your website that you find writing novels very difficult, what do you do to ‘make it happen?’ Have you worked out a specific method that will get you there in spite of the difficulties?

JANE: I call it MIND THE GAP (again outlined in Wannabe a Writer? Sorry to mention that again but you don’t have to buy it dear reader – your library should have it) (If you’ve still got one of course :-/). Basically you keep going whatever happens and write yourself notes in capitals in the gaps….

KD: A lot of us writers are introverts and have to really fake the extroverted part of public readings and appearances. What about you? Do you fake it? You certainly make it look like the easiest most natural thing in the world.

JANE: I kept faking till it became real… Now I am the most dreadful show-off.

KD: Other than having your first novel published, what’s the most exciting thing that’s happened in your writing life?

JANE: Oh gosh lots of things. I get excited quite easily. Getting my columns was lovely, writing my first non-fiction book. Blagging an invite to the British Book Awards and rubbing shoulders with all those fabulous authors. Interviewing some big name writers at Guildford Book Festival. Being booked to speak about writing, on a cruise ship headed for Barbados…

KD: Wow! Definitely sounds like you have a lot of exciting things to choose from! Where do you find the inspiration for your novels?

JANE: My own murky past mostly.

KD: In your book, Wannabe a Writer?, you’ve got over a hundred contributors who are writers, some quite famous, like Jilly Cooper and Frederick Forsyth – nothing like advice from the best! What, in your opinion, is the best piece of advice any of the writers who contributed to Wannabe a Writer? gave?

JANE: Oooh you’ve mentioned it now! Well done 

Well I rather liked Michael Buerk’s tho my mother was horrified. The best advice anyone can give to any writer is to WRITE. And quite a few said that in various different ways.
I liked Zoe Sharp’s advice too: Therapy’s cheaper!

KD: It definitely is! Tell us about your latest novel, Prime Time.

JANE: Prime Time is about PMT and Daytime TV and being a woman of a certain age who doesn’t want to give in to slippers and curlers just yet….
Here’s the blurb – it’s set in my home town of Broadstairs as well as in London.

Laura Meredith never imagined herself appearing on TV– she’s too old, too flabby, too downright hormonal, and much too busy holding things together for her son, Stanley, after husband, Daniel, left her for a younger, thinner replacement.

But best friend Charlotte is a determined woman and when Laura is persuaded on to a daytime show to talk about her PMT, everything changes. Suddenly there’s a camera crew tracking her every move and Laura finds herself an unlikely star. Wined, dined, and pampered, she begins to see the charms of a younger partner herself. But as things hot up between her and gorgeous TV director, Cal, they’re going downhill elsewhere. While Laura’s caught up in a heady whirlwind of beauty treatments, makeovers and glamorous film locations, Charlotte’s husband, Roger, is concealing a guilty secret, Stanley’s got problems at school, work’s piling up, and when Laura turns detective to protect Charlotte’s marriage, things go horribly wrong.

The champagne’s flowing as Laura’s prime time TV debut looks set to be a hit. But in every month, there’s a Day Ten …

KD: Wow! Sounds like quite a romp! Definitely one for the must-read list. So tell us, what does 2012 have in store for Jane Wenham-Jones?

JANE: I guess I’d better do some work at some point…
I don’t know what the crystal ball shows but what I’d like is the editor of a national newspaper to phone me up and offer me an agony aunt column. I love doing “Talk it Over” for Writing Magazine and am now longing to get my teeth into some non-writing problems too. I see myself as a cross between Mrs Mills and Marje Proops – with attitude. Any takers?

KD: They’d be insane not to, Jane! Thanks so much for stopping by and sharing good stuff about writing, reading, and your fabulous new novel, Prime Time! It’s been a pleasure having your.

Jane’s Website:

www.janewenham-jones.com

Buy Link for Prime Time:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Prime-Time-ebook/dp/B006M0TUQC/ref=dp_return_1?ie=UTF8&n=341677031&s=digital-text