My name is Nicola Sheehan and I’m in love with my bed…

It’s crept up on me over the last few years, I used to get up early, hop out of bed all perky as soon as my alarm went off. I used to find myself getting leg cramps or backache if I stayed in bed whilst not sleeping. I’m not sure when it changed, when the snooze button became my best friend or when the duvet suddenly became the softest, warmest and let’s face it the most wonderful thing ever, but it has undoubtably happened.

Maybe it’s single motherhood, that great loss you encounter of any time actually belonging to just you, where you can’t even have a poo in private, maybe then your bed beca your fortress of solitude. Or maybe it’s because some of the best things ever happen in bed: sleep, sex, the occasional fry up bought to you with love.

No, I’m not sure what it is but I love my bed. I’m writing this from bed now. Bed is awesome.

If I’m honest it’s not just my bed I’m in love with. Don’t get me wrong I am fairly confident that my bed with it’s feather mattress cover and super soft downy duvet would win competitions for comfynes but I’m not that fussy. Gimme pillows and a mattress and just enough room to starfish and I’m happy.

I don’t really get why John and Yoko made the news with their ‘bed-in’, how is staying in the comfiest most awesome place in the world a protest? I would happily do that for no cause. It makes me wonder though, perhaps I should adopt it as a marketing scheme. Rebecca, in Tiger Tiger, likes her hibernation:

I had been deeply ensconced in my new hermit-esque lifestyle for the best part of a fortnight; it was treating my state of incapacitation pretty well actually. I wasn’t having to do some crazy acrobatics to have a shower and I wasn’t having to develop racing driver type skills to negotiate the hairpins and straights of my flat, instead I was hibernating in my own little pit stop. I was more than happy to stay in my bedroom until my cast comes off in another 3 weeks.

Maybe I should emulate her (and John and Yoko) and have a bed in until I’ve sold my next hundred copies. Just don’t tell anyone that I actually like it…

Tiger Tiger is available from the Kindle Store for just £3: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tiger-ebook/dp/B00D5EYHAM

What’s In A Name..?

When can a writer describe themselves as a writer? Is there certain criteria that you need to hit in order to state that as your profession rather than your hobby? Like how often you write each day? Or how much money it makes you? Or is it like gender or ethnicity? It’s simply down to what you identify as? Though if that is the case perhaps I would like to identify as a supermodel as much as the majority would disagree.

Let’s accept for now an ‘I write, therefore I am a writer’ perspective; then when does a writer become an author? An author is broadly defined as “the person who originated or gave existence to anything” and whose authorship determines responsibility for what was created. Narrowly defined, an author is the originator of any written work.

So by definition I can describe myself as not merely a writer, but an author. Awesome.

So when does an author become a novelist? In Tiger Tiger the eponomous heroine, Rebecca Somersby describes herself as a novelist before she has written a novel: 

“allows me to indulge in my actual profession, which is being a novelist. I say novelist, I haven’t actually written a novel yet but I definitely intend to soon therefore that is who I am and what I do…”

 

Is this fraudulant representation on Rebecca’s behalf or are we allowed to call ourselves what we feel inside?

My name is Nicola Sheehan. I am a writer, an author, a novelist, a burlesque superstar, a Man Booker prize winner and I am going to rule the world!

One step at a time, eh..?

 

In the meantime Tiger Tiger is available for the Kindle Store on a summer promotional price of £1.99, go, read it…

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00D5EYHAM/ref=cm_cr_mts_prod_img

‘Bro’motion.

Ok, ok, it’s a tenuous pun, I have a higher ratio of female to male friends and even then I don’t think I’d ever refer to my male friends as ‘bro’s’ but I’m in a bad pun kinda mood so suck it up.

What I am talking about, of course, is the priceless support of my friends in helping to promote my first book, Tiger Tiger. They really have been above and beyond. Though my friends I have had advice on setting up web pages, I’ve had my gorgeous graphic design for my cover and my posters (by the beautiful Aimee Davies at aimeecreative.com), I’ve had a piece written in both my old girl’s newsletter and in my hometown paper the Stamford Mercury. I’ve had great reviews, social media support, posters printed and posted in various locations. All in the name of friendship. Who needs big company marketing when you have awesome friends, eh?ImageTiger Tiger is available in the Kindle Store: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00D5EYHAM/ref=cm_cr_mts_prod_img

In My Hometown

ImageI’m back in my hometown, Stamford in Lincolnshire this weekend. Taking advantage of the sunny weather, looking at all of the beautiful stone architecture, feeding baby ducks down on the water meadows and tinkering about in all of the independent boutique stores that this quaint town has to offer. This isn’t all I’ve done though; Stamford has a rife coffee shop culture and many of these coffee shops are now adorned with posters promoting my book, I even had a little chat with a fellow Stamfordian who assures me she’ll be downloading it as soon as she gets home. Let’s hope that this ancient town that has been the backdrop for literary adaptations such as Middlemarch can get behind something a little more modern and embrace a year in the life of Rebecca Somersby.

Tiger Tiger is available in the Kindle Store. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tiger-ebook/dp/B00D5EYHAM

 

Skinny White Latte With Caramel Syrup & Community Spirit, Please.

ImageI live in Southgate, a fairly sleepy suburb of North London. It’s one of those areas of London that prides itself on having a village atmosphere; an amalgamation of restaurants and coffee shops, small independent shops existing in harmony next to big multinationals. So when I came to distributing my promotional posters asking people to support a local author I packed a healthy bundle ready to cover the notice boards of Southgate with my glossy posters.

However as I went around the coffee shops searching for community notice boards I found nothing. Zilch. Nada. The community spirit in the London village is seemingly non existent. Feeling a little disheartened I went to my ‘regular’ coffee shop, the place that I go most days either to set up a little office away from home, or to buy an edifying post-rough-night coffee, or as an after school treat with my five year old (because he is treated like royalty in there). Despondent at my lack of success elsewhere I console myself by replacing my old shabby (pre-Aimee Creative) poster with a new one and leaving some flyers on the counter. The manager, Colin, picks up a flyer, asks what I’ve been up to, says he’ll buy my book. My order is known without me giving it. This coffee shop is like a home from home, it’s like ‘Cheers’, where everybody knows your name. This coffee shop does do community, I’ve made friends, contacts here but this particular coffee shop has come under fire for being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. It’s a Harris + Hoole.

For those of you who don’t know, Harris + Hoole are a new chain popping up over London, the brainchild of the Tolley siblings who had previously run independent coffee shops in London and Brighton who wanted to bring great coffee to the masses. To do this they sought funding from Tesco, the Beelzebub of the retail world and have faced criticism in the press about Tesco holding a non controlling share of their company, about ‘pretending’ to be independent and ‘playing’ at being community spirited. Rhubarb to that, I say. Harris + Hoole Southgate is my office, my sanctuary; the staff show interest in me, in my work. They support me, they make me amazing coffee, they wake me up when I’m exhausted, they change the radio station when the wittering of Nick Grimshaw is interfering with the dialogue I’m writing. I’m not a fan of Tesco by any stretch of the imagination but community spirit is rare and isn’t something that can be put on and is something that is seemingly dead elsewhere in my London village. So I’ll stand and be counted, thank you Harris + Hoole, long may you continue to be my office and the only local bearer of my promotional poster.

(Tiger Tiger is available now in the Kindle Store: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00D5EYHAM/ref=cm_cr_error)

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