Your Personality in Your Hands

The road through Cancerville was a little rocky last week. However sure I was that I didn't want to use the much documented Cold Cap, however prepared I felt for my hair falling out; the speed with which it all disappeared was shocking. In three days it was pretty much gone. What feels like chunks of your personality falling out in handfuls can only be described as distressing. The seventy year old, uncannily reminiscent male I glimpsed whenever I had the misfortune to catch myself in the mirror, a reflection in the window or glass of a cupboard door – I never realised quite how much we see our faces through the day – was not a sight which gladdened my heart.

My indoor headwear of choice (thanks Susie!)

But, like those before me and those who will unfortunately follow, I have come through the other side and am starting to embrace life with a bald head. A very cold, bald head.

Now I feel able to say to anyone going through this, or holding the hand of someone who is, don't feel you have to pretend that losing your hair is OK, because it isn't. You don't have to tell yourself you look better bald, unless you do. But do remember that hair loss due to chemo is only temporary. For some little understood reason, hair often starts to grow back in cycle four of chemo, not weeks after the end of the final cycle which I'd imagined. And that means that in six small weeks, we could be seeing some tufts of new growth and wondering what colour the baby hair will be. (Anything but Silver Fox for me, please.) Will it be curly or straight? If I get the additional chemo curl, I'll have an 'afro', something which would gain me great kudos with my teenage children. If I go straight, finally I'll have the sophisticated-together look us curly haired mops can never quite pull off. Alas, I fear suave sophistication doesn't come as a package but a first impression of decorum wouldn't go amiss.

Going out for the first time with my wig on felt like I was wearing a sandwich board to broadcast the artificial nature of my head covering to all. But it doesn't anymore. Wearing a Buff, a sporty headscarf, to the gym felt like I was screaming, Caution! Very poorly person on treadmill! Albeit in reality, some people smiled, others gave me a hug and most people didn't notice.

Nonetheless, I did hibernate for a couple of days while I re-adjusted. It's just how I like to cope with things. So I retreated to my office and did my part in the judging of the 500 Words 2014 children's short story competition, hosted by Chris Evans and Radio Two.  This is the second year I've judged and again, I immensely enjoyed the experience. Every one of my batch of 34 stories was entertaining in an amusing, exciting or poignant way but, similarly to last year, I noticed a common factor linking the stories to which I awarded most marks.

I decided to blog about this in the hope it might help our writers of the future move forward not only with their writing generally but also in this and other competitions. I've posted the blog separately here: Psst! Young Writers! Here: Psst! Young Writers! and would be grateful if you could direct your young folk over there if you feel it could be of interest. I explain the categories used in judging the stories and also include some links for other short story competitions for young writers.

As for my writing, alas I didn't make the long list of the Bath Novel Award. But my short story, A Life with Additives, was read during A Roof over your Head, an evening of reading and music organised by the wonderfully altruistic writer, John Taylor  an event which raised in excess of £470 for the homeless charity, Shelter. And so I class that as a great week for writing.

And the pain of last week's hair loss feels a lot further away.

Have a great week!

Blasting Stories for Homes

Today is Book Blast day for Stories for Homes, an anthology of short stories by published and aspiring writers, loosely based around the theme of 'home'. As the days and nights get colder and the world a little more sparkly in the fortnight running up to Christmas - for some - there will be 80,000 children homeless in this country. And that's not to mention their parents. All profits from the sale of Stories for Homes go directly to the housing charity, Shelter. All monies will help support their Christmas campaign to help find accommodation for some of these homeless people. We're hoping for record sales today.

My copies: arrived this morning!

The paperback (just launched) and eBook are both available here -Click to buy Stories for Homes. The paperback, a whopping 600 pages, retails at £14.99 but is £12.44 while it's so high up the charts (did I mention it has five stars...??) Maybe you need a couple? They're a great Christmas present for the book worms in your family. Or a guilt-free present to yourself, perhaps? A word of warning: a kettle and box of tissues are a pre-requisite to reading but don't worry, you'll be tittering away as well.


For the beady eyed amongst you, I have posted on Stories for Homes before. Please click here to see how I came to be involved.


And finally, for my London friends, Stories for Homes is being launched at The Bookseller, Crow on the Hill, SE London from 6pm this Friday 13th December. Drinks and giggles will be a-plenty if I know the wonderful driving force behind the book of Debi Alper and Sally Swingewood. For my northern friends, watch this space as we're hoping to organise similar up here :) 

Stories for Homes

Today I’m Celebrating Small, as in briefly, if that’s a concept within my capabilities, because really, this is much more of the celebrating medium variety, if not, the humongously large.

How happy was I to see that my short story, A Life with Additives had been chosen for inclusion in the Stories for Homes anthology from which all proceeds go to the homeless, charity, Shelter? The eBook is now out and the soft back is following hot on its heels. My story is, embarrassingly, a little light and fluffy but there are some much more cerebral, poignant beauties for your delectation. My advice would be to grab yourself a coffee (or a gin), a packet of hobnobs and a comfy chair - with a box of tissues placed firmly at your side. If you feel compelled to make a purchase either for the stories, the charity or to keep me happy - or a combination of all three - thank you so much. Click to buy Stories for Homes  

Charlie Wade, my blogging friend who loves a good rant now and again and boy, does he rant brilliantly, kindly asked me to guest blog on his site this week so I’m over there talking about Stories for Homes, mushy peas and dubious acting skills. Please pop over if you have a minute Charlie's Blog - Batteries Aren't Included.

And finally, I’m celebrating a birthday, my blog’s birthday, because this is my 100^th post. Frankly, when I wrote my first and checked hourly (ok, it was every few minutes) to see if my page views would reach double figures, I don’t think I ever dared to dream I’d still be here over two years later. I only started a blog because my very wise and very lovely writer friend, Jane Alexander, told me to. I thought it would be just another Facebook-esque distraction. But, right from the start, I realised how much I loved writing it. In this world of novel writing where the stories take months to hit the paper, years to edit and back to months again to hear back from potential agents and publishers, the positively rocket speed process of posting my missives and reading your comments which always make me smile, is joyfully refreshing and rewarding.

Thank you so much for reading.Please enjoy a piece of virtual birthday cake, you deserve it - take care with the golden hearts, they aren't edible.