This is a photo I took recently of the sign for Brighton’s Over Street. I saw it as one of those shabby little jewels you find hidden among Brighton’s streets, and it was a reminder of how much I love this town.
This post is also the blog equivalent of a tissue. Yesterday’s picture is coming up large on my Goodreads profile! I fear I’m lowering the tone over there and ought to get the jizz off my page, sharpish.
I’m also grabbing this chance to remind you of Alison Tyler’s wonderful blog, Scruffy Jottings About Filth. It’s a site where erotica writers show their notebooks to the world. I sent my notes in a few years ago, and when Alison posted about them the other day, I found myself fascinated by my own scribblings. I don’t think this was narcissism, simply the result of forgetfulness. Once a book is whole, published and stamped with an ISBN, my memories of the joy, despair and chaos of the creative process behind it fade fast. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Looking at my own notes was almost like looking at someone else’s. I thought she was slightly mad.
Anyway, check it out. Danielle’s anecdotes about his editor are gorgeously funny. I love hearing about how other writers work, seeing their handwriting and doodles, and the paper they write on. Alison’s keen to showcase more scruffy jottings so drop her a line if you want to bare your smut-writerly all.
There, that was a bit more respectable, wasn’t it?