Mega Showdown! Geek Identity Versus Rebel Identity!

So I have been thinking, that is correct, thinking. I know that most of you are now reading this with a slightly worried feeling building in your stomachs, with maybe the realisation that I am going to do a Pip. Well anyway, as I was saying, I’ve been thinking about identity.

You see it really hit me the other day when I was listening to some random song (I listen to music all day at work), and it was by some artist who was going on a bit of a rampage after getting dumped or something like that (probably Beyonce thinking about it 😉 and it was filled with angry lyrics and notes.

And I sort of started thinking about what music artists sing about and who they sing about and saw that most of them stereotype themselves (therefore us as most of us think about ourselves when listening to songs), into a certain image, mindset or personality. Artists like Rihanna singing ‘Hard’ all about how she’s a rock hard woman with an unbelievably feminine body (yes, we all hate her a little…jokes), and so the stereotype is being someone who is hard:

Someone who is hard is an impermeable rock, they don’t show their feelings, they are fearless, they take everything on, even the world. I myself have tried to be ‘hard’ on occasion and found myself quit unfit for the task (yeah, so that sentence proves it). I cannot keep my face straight, I cry too easily, most things scare me and I would like to take on tomorrow before I take on the world.

Other artists (who I have now seen perform live at the O2 woop!), sing about geeks –

And many of us think of ourselves as geeks, others sing about being heart broken and we all try to be as broody and stand offish as possible, (thinking of course that we look cooler). Maybe we classfy ourselves as smart and therefore higher than the rest of those plebians, maybe we consider ourself common, maybe not, maybe we are a rocker and love Kings Of Leon (who rock by the way), or we’re a rebel and always get into trouble.

Whatever we have decided we are, there are 3 things I have found:

1. I put myself into a box and don’t give my character any wiggle room.

2. I tend to switch, one day I’m broody and then when I want to talk I become the chatty geek.

3. It’s confusing, pressurising and WRONG.

It’s wrong because you know what I think, not in a cheesy way but, we’re all a little bit geeky, some more than others i.e. me, we’re all a little broody from time to time, and we all have that rebel spirit which makes us want to steal that sign we’ve been told not to and run when we get told off by security! (An allusion to all of those who I camped with this weekend).

Something I’ve realised from the camping weekend is that artists, the media, TV and movies put us into stereotype boxes. Heck, even we do it to each other! Something I’ve realised is not to be afraid of being who you are, no matter how many things that entails, and the way that I’m learning, (learning being the stressed word here!) is through God. You know what? He made me so he already knows me, no nasty surprises for him like there are for my husband…hahaha! God loves us as we are and the more I’m learning to stand on that (which is hard), the more comfortable I’m feeling in my own skin, the more relaxed I’m feeling. And as life has that qwuerky habit of getting more complicated with everyday, at least that is one less thing!

P x

Back in the Blogging Saddle…

Well, if I cannot be in the actual saddle on a horse’s back then I should at least write something relating in a mild and tepidly amusing way to horses!

It feels good to be back on the blogging scene after an Anniversary (woop!), a holiday to Cornwall, two birthdays, a Christian Conference, a birthday party (in The Only Way Is Essex theme) and moving house. It’s been such a crazy time and I’ve been looking at my MS just sat on the side chilling and getting so frustrated that I couldn’t sit down and work on it!

I feel it has been too long, and I was almost afraid, when I looked back  at the last awful blog I wrote, that I would not be able to write something better to erase it from all memory. But then, is it neccessary?

I have started reading a really interesting book I got for my birthday called ‘The Creative Writing Coursebook’ (thank you Abi Bettle!), and I just read a section of it this lunch time in front of the library on a gusty, grey day. It was really rather chilly actually but I seem to have an obsession at the moment with grey, overcast days because of their innate bleakness and the passionate emotions they seem to show, it’s like the weather is upset or in a tantrum, and I just find that it makes me unbelievable inspired to write!

Anyway, I was reading this book and this rather clever man called Paul Magrs (well he seems clever at the moment), was writing about writers and how many cannot remember when they first started writing stories or poems, about how they remember when they first showed it to someone or started writing ‘properly’ and there I was wandering rather dangerously along the streets of Chichester, my head buried in the pages of a book and nodding along quite merrily as I agreed and found similarities with myself.  So, after avoiding some human and car traffic which was for some reason getting in my way when I wasn’t looking, I read a section on how sometimes you have to write rubbish en route to writing something good.

This is something I have found time and again, even blogged about and here I was acting like it was some revelation! But there was something which did strike a chord with me, especially as I am now on the fourth revision of Letty thanks to some helpful advice from M.M. Bennetts and a great deal of needed encouragement from my Daddy. I’ll quote what I liked so much:

But you have to remind yourself – you have to be told – that these first lines (of a novel) were most probably not what the author first wrote

And it’s so true, you should see the first revision of ‘Letty’, it’s covered in red pen, pencil, black biro (pretty much anything I could get my hands on), and it’s just a beautiful mess of paper. A beautiful mess because I can see it improving, even if it looks worse! I can see it growing!

So, to all of you who are writing, starting to write, revising manuscripts –

Keep Calm and Carry On!

It has been lovely to blog on my lunch break, but I really must work now. I hope you have enjoyed the return to normal blogging topics and that writers have been encouraged!!!

P x

Forget Celebrities and bring on LIFE

Right, I feel this is an issue which is close to my heart, and I don’t mean that in a loving way. No, I mean that in a, if you were here in this room I would be shouting my point, kind of way.

I was discussing how much I dislike certain celebrities who are famous for being annoying, shallow, superficially pretty or just simply for nothing. And, I was discussing reality tv programmes and the fascination they hold over people. It is a little too often that I see people watching, ‘My Sweet 16′, or ‘Teenage Mum’, or even ‘The Only Way is Essex.’

Sure these programmes provide a basic kind of entertainment, but even I (who own almost all the seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer) know that when I sit and watch this, quite frankly, rubbish on telly that I am wasting my life.

I mean, who gives a monkey’s uncle about some spoilt brat in America who got a more expensive car for their birthday than I will ever even have a ride in? And for goodness sake, have I really been watching those Essex idiots chat about having botox and who’s shagged who?

Come on people, let’s get a flipping grip shall we?????!!!!!?????!!!!!!

How many of us sit and chew a pen in the office while thinking of all the things we’d like to do? How many of us writers sit and think we’d like to be published if only we’d get our arses in gear? How many of us look with longing at other’s holiday photos and wish we would start saving to take that trip we’ve always wanted to go on?

Well I’ll tell you what, I have sat and watched reality TV for too long. For too long have I been the viewer of some jumped up TV character’s life and not living my own.

Don’t for a minute take my meaning wrong and throw your tele out the window and massacre your entire DVD collection, just try to catch what I’m saying – don’t waste the only life you’ve got, on things that are as insignificant as the dust on the door frame.

Now is the time to get up and run; to grab life by the horns and take it on. No matter what age you are, the next thing I’m going to say is important:

Live Life.

New Job, Old Story & Little Time.


God has been good, God is always good, God will continue being good! 

I was offered a job today at a local riding stables and I was pretty much bouncing off the walls with excitement after I accepted it.

There are three good things about this:

1. Answer to prayer.

2. Steady Pay.

3. It involves popoes! (That is my Dad’s word for ponies).

Then I was thinking about how I haven’t got my story finished to submit and I’ve really been kicking myself about it but let’s be honest – If you’re not working much and getting those ideas, frustrations, joys and experiences from work then your writing will suffer and my has come to a somewhat grinding halt!

I had really been beating myself up about it and feeling bad even when I decided to have a break from writing last week but now I have realised it really isn’t my fault. After all if I was to squeeze out writing when I’m not passionate about it, it’s not going to turn out any good anyway!

However, the other side to this is that now I have a job that if full-time hours I won’t have a lot of time to write, that means that in the months notice I’ve given to my two part time jobs I’m gong to have to use my free time ever-so effectively to get my story done – can I hear cheering on?

Well I should damn it! Goodness me I’ve got a lot to do and not nearly enough time to do it in – Checklist:

1. Finish the last few chapter corrections.

2. Skim read the whole for a quick check.

3. Write an amazing query letter.

4. Write a snappy and grabbing synopsis.

5. Research and find out the publishers I want to submit to.

6. Submit and wait!!!

Six whole things to do – holy moly now I’m panicking.

By Philippa Keyworth

p.s. Then again I feel that my dried up creative juices will begin flowing again once I’m working more – there’s never a dull moment with horses.

p.p.s. I am in no way resenting the job – God has really answered our prayers!

p.p.p.s. I made the mega short slide show to show (hehe I used the word twice) the things that I’m hoping will inspire me for my stories, I’m torn between sticking with historical or going back to fantasy….conundrums

Get off your fat butt!!!

I have been mulling over in my head for ages the knowledge – “I need to write another blog

It has been haunting me like a big fat ghost, making me feel guilty every time I sit down to do something else. (Like watch ‘Cougar Town‘ which is well funny). And today when I got home from a half day at work I just said to myself:

Do it now! You know you won’t otherwise Lazy Bones!

It got me to thinking about how apathy has become a part of my life recently and indeed has been plaguing society for centuries but, I feel, never more than now.

There are a few reasons for this:

1. Ourselves

Okay so it is like built into human beings to be lazy, I cannot tell you how many times me husband has been sat next to me on the sofa and I ask him to get me a drink, the conversation goes a little like this:

“Honey, can you get me a drink?

“Why can’t you get it?”

“Awww! Please? I’m sooooo thirsty.”

“Seriously? You are being so lazy.”


No response.

Please? Please? Please? Please? Please?


Now I come to think of it how flippin’ lazy is that??

2. Celebrity Culture

Seriously, this is the bane of my life. Celebrity Culture is, let’s face it, a lot of what forms our culture and, if we admit it, ourselves today. I mean come on, how many girls dyed their hair that deep plum colour just because Cheryl Cole had it, even if they wouldn’t admit that was the reason? I dare you, next time you walk down the high street, count how many girls have that hair colour (I’m not knocking it, it is a nice colour….but still….).

How many of us just get really pee-ed off when some random person goes on some pants reality show and somehow gets famous afterwards? I mean, has our idea of celebrity status gone down since the time of; Fred Astaire, Grace Kelly or Doris Day? These people didn’t just get on a reality show and get famous, no, they are  were great and worked hard to become the icons they were in their day and still are. Fred Astaire was a fantastic dancer and singer, Grace Kelly was a beauty who married a Prince and Doris day was a fantastic Calamity Jane. (If you don’t know these things, research these people, you’re missing out…).

The worst effect of this Celebrity Culture is on us plebians. When you see someone go from ‘Zero’ to famous, it’s so easy to get caught up and think – one day, if only or the worst – “That means I don’t have to work hard because you don’t have to to have it all”

3. Everyone else

Now if you’ve got good friends, and by those I mean truthful to the point of bluntness, then they won’t let you get lazy but the majority will say – it’s all about you, you deserve better, they should realise how great you are. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it’s appropriate to say those things only not when you’re being lazy if you get me?


These things then affect different areas of our lives, we don’t strive so hard which means we don’t work hard in the work place because we believe we deserve something for nothing, people get married thinking there’s no work involved and you disappear into the sunset – if that were the case then there would be considerably less people on the planet and considerably less divorces.

Lastly, it means that if you are a Christian, it’s easy to think that everything will just happen, you relationships with God will just happen, your patience with others will just happen, money will just fall into your lap (sometimes that happens 🙂 your character building will just happen….

Well I’ve got news for myself along with the rest of the world – We better start getting off our a**** and working for a job, at our marriages and relationships, at our relationships with God and in my case at House work, story writing and reading the bible as well, because here’s the thing –

Life isn’t Easy, it takes work and a whole lotta God,

once you’ve got that sorted, you’ve just gotta get on

with it.

toodles x

By Philippa Keyworth

Gender, Feminism and masculinity

What a lot of controversial words. Of course I in no way mean to offend people by this blog and these are all my own thoughts and not truths. If you get angry feel free to leave a nasty comment. Anyway – now I’ve covered my blogging ass please read on…

The other day I was wearing a maxi dress (shocking I know but I swear it was a sunny English day in March) I was quite enjoying wearing it, swanning around like a girly prat, and pretending for the first time, probably ever, to act like a lady. I found it immensely ironic that a usual tomboy who was referred to by her friend Ro the other day as being “the manliest out of our group of girls” was put into a long floaty dress and felt the need but also the enjoyment of being…..FEMININE.

Now I in no way wish to knock Feminists or the movement which was spearheaded by so many brave, strong women who gave their lives to see that we have the same rights as men. I do however, want to comment on feminity in our current British culture. I was walking out of my flat the other day in jeans a hoody and a bodywarmer – standard Philippa wear – and when I paused, seeing my reflection, was struck by the fact that from my clothing you really couldn’t tell me sex. I mean that’s BAD! Especially for my loving husband.

I think in our striving to be equal to men not only do we not appreciate the differences between men and women and how they compliment each other, but we also have lost some of our feminity. It seems like a lot of women you see as you walk down the street do not take pride in their feminineness. Do not mistake me, I do not mean some wet goose of a woman who is swooning at everything, but rather a strong woman who understands her feminine side and the strength that lies therein.

How many of us truly want to read a book with a heroine who is quailing at every obstacle thrown her way? I hope no one answered yes. Obviously we want to be saved by our men, but we want to be strong and independent. In real life, instead of striving to be the same as men sometimes we need to allow them to be men and get the door or carry the shopping, this way we allow them to be men and ourselves to be women. I think men want a sexy woman who knows how to get the mould of the bathroom tiles and who fully embraces showing off her womanly curves!

Don’t worry I’m not talking about a superwoman or some stereotypical bimbo – I merely wish to recognise the beauty and good of femininity rather than seeing it as a weak flaw. With that in mind I had better stop writing this blog and go and put a dress on before my husband gets home…..pants I haven’t waxed my legs………:-S

(p.s. If you want to study some strong but feminine women try: Jane Austen, Queen Elizabeth I, Queen Esther from the bible.)

By Philippa Jane Keyworth

I did not win

Hello fellow bloggers and blog readers.

There is only a quick bit of me garbling on this one as I wanted to upload some writing. Basically I entered a competition (in writing duh!) to write something based around the horse racing industry. I was not allowed to publish this bit of text so I kept it in my archives after submitting it but got back an email yesterday saying I didn’t win. So instead of falling into the doldrums I thought why not show it to the public at least once! It took me approximately four hours to write and for those of you who are horsey, you may be able to appreciate where I’m coming from as I used a lot of my experiences to write this rather unusual set of prose:

A letter from a stable lad describing his life in the racing world.

It is not often, as a part of the human race, that we consider the rest of our fellow man. No indeed, it seems our problems are more important, our heartaches more painful and our joys unsurpassed by others. Not one man among us could dispute this without revoking his own inconsistent human character a feat as yet unattainable even to the best of us.

I do not claim to be better than others. I am inconsistent and I do not frequently consider other’s problems before my own. I do however see. I see everything that comes and goes in the position I hold in life. I watch you all, not as a better, no, rather as an inferior. With a voice that is neither recognized, nor heeded. With views derived from less experience than others but with an equal right to be counted among theirs. There is always the possibility I am right, however much others discredit it.

In a world where the currency is luck, I doubt my position shall ever change. I do the jobs no one else wishes to and because they keep me fit; I shall surely being doing them longer than those in other employments. I will not better my situation beyond a certain stage, which is the sad truth that so many like me cannot accept. Without the money others have I can never achieve what I may wish to and sometimes I dwell on this.

What I can lay claim to in this world however, is the ability not only to watch others but to watch the horses they own. I spend more time with your horse than you. I spend more hours caring for that beast you prize than you ever will. You talk about your horse to others for hours, I barely say more than a few words when I am with him all day. As a result I know your horse better than you ever will in this life.

I am there in the morning, I am the mucker, I am the exerciser, the one who washes him, the one who feeds him again and again and I put him in his stable at night. I have sat up long into the night while he had colic. I have nursed the injury he sustained because he was pushed too far. I have stemmed the bleeding when he gashed himself on a rusty nail.

I know whether your horse is bolshie or timid. I know whether he nips or nudges. I know why he is off his food. I know why he cannot make the time you want him to. I know that after five years he shall be obsolete in this place and I shall get to know another.

While I watch over your animals, I see you and your associates. I can see the discontent sometimes, the exuberance winning creates and the way you all speak about one another when each other’s backs are turned whether good or bad.

You may well ask why I chose this profession? But that would be entirely the wrong question. I did not choose this profession, nor did it choose me. I chose horses, not a job but a love. I chose racehorses in all their might and splendor. I chose a world in which the poor and rich, the peasants and royalty can join together and have the same chances. The same joy in winning and the same frustration in losing. As someone once said,

A Dog looks up to a man, a cat looks down on a man, but a patient horse looks a man in the eye and sees him as an equal.’

This is a sport of equality even if it has been a long time striving to come to this point.

This is a sport, which humans have watched, backed, participated and worked in for millennia. A sport where unless you are the best, you will lose. I may be nothing and I may have no remembrance after I die but I do not need it. I would have lived within a legacy that shall be passed down from generation to generation. As long as racing exists, horses shall never go extinct. Racing shall never fade out, time has already tested it and it has withstood him for centuries.

The horse is an entirely different animal to us humans, for they have found a way to work with us when we still find it difficult to work with one another. It is true; there are minor arguments, occasionally ending in major injuries. These are forgiven however because of what they are and because the majority of these arguments are caused by the human rider not the horse.

Horses have shown an incredible quality to submit and be mastered by us as though created for that sole purpose. Cannot the champions of this species be traced to the racehorse? A creature who has harnessed it’s own ability for flight to become an integral part of tradition and culture.

As with these beasts I lay claim to being part of tradition. I shall be trampled, misunderstood and in some cases mistreated, but I am akin to the race-horse; I do not give up the fight, I do not quit the race, I shall pass the finish line, even if the glory will forever pass to others. I am, a stable-lad.

Word Count914.

By Philippa Jane Keyworth

So thoughts? Questions? General viewing points?

The Regency Period

So what exactly is it that has people, (particularly females), so very enraptured with the Regency period?

After all this period in history spanned a mere nine years (1811-1820) which, if one looks at history as a whole, is a pathetically small amount of time, which should not really have made a dent on historian or plebeian minds. Yet this is a period of time associated with romance, ettiquette, fashion and decor. I shall put to one side politics, until at least I have researched them thoroughly, so do not be angry that I am not talking of them in this blog as I know nothing about them at present!

We remember the Regency period for, of course, fat Prinny George. A man whose extravagances were only rivalled by his waistline. He was the creator of the new craze called ‘interior design‘. Carlton House, (a residence given to him by his father), he re-decroated five times! This new fashion of redecoration was taken up by many of the ton, barring of course the aristocracy who were already entrenched thanks to the leisure activities of the period; such as drinking, gaming and of course the famous betting book at White’s.

The Prince may have set the line for interior design and an exceedingly extravagant lifestyle, but it was the infamous Beau Brummel that set the line for fashion. Gone were the frills, ring encrusted hands and powdered wigs and then dawned the predecessor of the modern day suit. Of course to us, Darcy’s wardrobe in the BBC adaptations is nothing like the modern day suit. Instead this wardrobe reminds us of a time when dress was important and needed time taking over it. It reminds us of a time when trying a cravat would take hours and if those hours created perfection it was deemed quite proper. This period of fashion for both men and women was revealing, flattering and modest (provided you were not of course, a painted lady). Dresses accentuated feminitiy whereas Weston’s coats did all they could to promote masculinity.

And of course who could forget dear Jane Austen. A woman whose writing not only shows satire and a comical take on life but also the strength, character and humour of a woman who would undoubtedly may be plain, but incredibly enigmatic. Through Jane Austen we are given a world into which we wish to escape, a world of romance that may start along a rocky shore but that will end in happiness.

My love of this period of time come from the fact that is so contrasts to modern day. When pornography is on the shelves of every 24/7 news agents, girls are falling about drunk on Saturday night streets and a one night stand is the equivalent of courting I cannot blame myself for wishing to immerse myself in a time when, at least for women; morals and propriety were everything, fashion involved covering more than one square foot of one’s body and pleasures were simpler (even if ettiquette was more complicated).

By Philippa Jane Keyworth

Men and women have an irrevocable bond

What have a learned after being married for over half a year?

The one thing that stands out to me more now than ever is the differences between man and woman and that when they work together (rarely) there can be such a conjuction of characters so as to produce something the world rarely sees.

It is no wonder that there is such a demand and so many already printed romances (and I mean good ones not trashy crappy ones) when men and women are so different and provide such an interesting conflict and then eventual joining that creates life and incredible companionship and enjoyment.

It never ceases to amaze me what passions my husband can send me into, and, the love which he ignites in me, even when he hurts me. It has shown me most of all (along with good christian teaching) that love is a choice, not just a feeling. There are times in my life when I think to myself – ‘he drives me crazy!’ but yet, in those times I know I still love him and I choose to still love him because that is what I vowed to do. These feelings I am sure are not just felt by me but most certainly by him also! Ha!

Some may call me terribly narrow minded for only reading a book or for that matter writing one, when it contains a love story, I have several arguments for this:

1. When using escapism through reading – I wish to escape into a world I actually like!

2. As I have said – men and women will forever be an interesting subject to read about.

3. It’s my opinion and action, not yours, so deal with it.

When writing I find I have the unchanging habit of ending every story with a happy ending – what can I say? Hahaha.

When writing my most recent story – Miss Rotherham (which by the way I finished a few days ago!!! Yes!) I ended it with the final scene being the declaration of love between the two main characters. However unlike the rest of my stories I did not get the feeling of satisfaction when laying my pen down. It took me a few days to realise why this was.

What is the most important thing regency romance novelists or historical fiction writers should remember and always abide by?

HISTORICAL ACCURACY ———- at all cost to your own story line or character ideas. If you do not understand, research and obey the social norms of the particular period you write about then you are creating a half-hearted, diluted version of what your story could be.

My fault was having a scene where the hero is waiting by the heroines bedside while she recovers from an attack in a posting inn. Now no matter the impropriety of the previous hours (involving an elopement, heroine dressing up as a man and situations devolving into fisty-cuffs rather hilariously) I know that I cannot allow my honourable characters to be put in a situation which simply would not happen no matter if it furthers my storyline.

My hero (if I wish him to remain believable – the foundation of any good character) would never see her in that vulnerable and improper position of being as good as naked (despite the giant night gowns of the period) in front of him, and sitting by her bed which is a nursing ladies position. No, I must inconvenience myself, and keep writing and rewriting until I gain the satisfaction of a believable, brilliant and heart wrenchingly romantic ending.

This is why when I type up my story I shall have to extend and work around the social etiquette’s of the time and forget my ridiculously inaccurate end of the first draft.

Oh it is hard….the life of a writer I mean…..

By Philippa Jane Keyworth

10 fold.

For every customer that comes through the doors of a shop and is nothing but polite, understanding and lovely, and for all the happy feelings that these people give the lowly shop girl or boy, there are ten fold more horrible feelings given to the shop boy or girl for that customer who is both haughty, seemingly purposefully misunderstanding, believes themselves a race above the shop workers and is inclined to believe that everything is not up to standard whether it be the cleaning of the shop, the workmanship of the clothes (which, by the way, is nothing to do with the shop workers – why kill the waiter when the food is bad?) or even simply the cheery exterior the shop worker affects to ensure customer satisfaction.

I rub my eyes, I have been here since dumb o’clock moving the shop floor around, piecing together outfits for placing and of course cramming in accessories wherever the walls allow space.

It is now half past three and my head has been aching for a little bit. I yawned six times in a row this morning and as a result hurt my jaw – ridiculous.

As another customer walks onto the worn welcome mat and into the land which is my miniature kingdom on the highstreet I realise I must welcome them. I say ‘good morning.’

The woman does not even turn to acknowledge the fact I am a human being. No, instead she grunts a reply and walks on. Does she think I enjoy saying hello to strangers all day? Does she think I enjoy being ignored as though I were nought but a robot repeating lines from some dreary play? Seriously, it takes courage to speak to people you don’t care one iota for and have never laid eyes on until they have crossed that threshold.

I sigh and then put through a transaciton on the til, the lady is Canadian, I make idle chit-chat I mention I have another job and she jibes at me saying, ‘Yeah, your REAL job.’

THANKS. Yes thank you, I chose this position at the bottom of the pecking order, I really did. It took so long and I advertised in all the slave magazines so I could meet people like you who think you are better than those that serve you. I would like to see if you have the patience which we shop workers have grown since coming into this profession.

I am passed a bunch of clothes from the fitting room, which need to be put back out onto the shop floor. I look from the lady to the clothes she is handing me and feel like shouting – ‘Seriously! Do you really hang your clothes back to front and inside out and with the buttons undone at home?’


Oh well, I am sure there is another person in another profession that I do not understand and I will offend them in the same way they offend us. But I content myself with thinking, as I walk through the shop door, my employees tag left on the hook out the back and my uniform safely off,

‘Well at least we’ve got your money…’

And now I write.

Suddenly my enemies are more horrible, evil and cruel and my protagonist has never fought more fiercely…

By a decidedly ticked off – Philippa Jane Keyworth