Party party

Thanks to J, S, N, C and my Mum for unofficially launching The Best British Short Stories 2011 last night in the pub, complete with pink balloons. We always meet once a month or so to talk about a book we've all read so it seemed a good idea to try some short stories for a change, since BBSS11 was thrusting itself at us, waving wildly, shouting 'pick me! pick me!'. Though it's only been out a fortnight we all had a copy (might have something to do with my wild excitement when I heard I'd be in it).

The idea was that we'd pick our six favourites and see which two came out on top - but our taste turned out to be so varied that no two did come out clear favourites (no one was allowed to pick mine, to save embarrassment). So we talked about what makes a short story (something has to change, thanks Nic Royle, for your helpful introduction) and why some of these made us squirm, others puzzled us, and several made us bow down in awe.

And now we're going back to re-read to see if we can work out what the deeply unreliable narrator in So Much Time in a Life was telling us, and what the lozenge shape on the lawn was in Flora, and we'll re-read all the rest simply to wallow in the pleasure of a perfect variety pack of stories.

... and breathe out

At midday yesterday, despite me telling myself I was deeply calm, my body wagged a finger at me and put me right. Cold sweats, racing heart - what a wimp. So I sat myself down to finish my accounts with the radio blaring loud (The Avalanches' 'Frontier Psychiatrist' - what? Only 6 Music could play it), and that seemed to do the trick.

By the time I arrived at the Betsey Trotwood for the Best British Short Stories launch I really was as calm as I'd told myself to be - and quite right too: Nic Royle, the editor, was easy-going and so was the whole evening. Hard to be formal in a tiny cellar with standing room only, lots of beer, and tube trains rumbling under our feet. The readings were great - it's a pleasure to hear stories read the way their writers intended and I'm looking forward to re-reading the others' stories and hearing their voices in my head as I do.

So now it's launched, and I even have a copy - the ones Salt posted out last week still haven't arrived, so last night was the first time I'd seen my name in that contents list.

I have to say, it's a good collection - I haven't read it all yet, though I know the two stories by Hilary Mantel already from their original publication in the Guardian, but I love Claire Massey's Feather Girls and Adam Marek's Dinner of the Dead Alumni. Shall be reading the rest eagerly - a treat in store for when I've done my tax return. Revenue and Customs better be ready for the earliest tax return ever.

1 minute, 2 minutes, 3 minutes, 4 minutes, 5 minutes - STOP!

I've been putting this off - but it's time to face the page and read The Swimmer aloud to myself to see how long it takes. I'm reading at the launch of Best British Short Stories on Tuesday and I have five minutes. And I ideally should stop reading at a point which will send the crowd (crowd?) into a frenzy of dissatisfaction so that every one of them rushes to the table at the back to buy a copy.

In fact I'm less nervous of the reading than of the mingling before and after. Will there be anyone else there willing to confess that - while they read obsessively - they can rarely remember the plot or characters of anything they've read?

Or that while they were out for a walk this afternoon they experienced a sudden and disconcerting urge to reread Tales of Brambly Hedge? Where did that come from?

Herefordshire

We're in Herefordshire for a few days, staying with our friends the Cs. Here's the view from my bedroom window - it's a longhouse deep in fields. The only sounds are the roar of a giant tractor in the skinny lane outside, and the lambs and their mothers -oh and a cow (they're Herefordshire Friesian crosses, I gather) has just spoken too.

Lovely Mrs C is teaching A level maths to our son, while I drink tea and prevaricate - I'm determined to finish the story I began a few weeks ago while I'm here. I sent off the last piece of work on Tuesday, and the next is a week away, so it's the perfect chance to get writing.

I've just agreed to read at the Betsey Trotwood in a couple of weeks, for the launch of the Salt Best of British Short Stories anthology. Very scary - the only way to deal with the fear is to pretend it's not happening right up till the last minute, I think. I've never done a reading before, only listened to them - all the more reason to finish another story so I feel less like a fraud alongside 'real' short story writers with books and prizes under their belts. I've three completed stories now, at least, and this week's will make one more, so I'm edging along to full membership of the fiction writer's brigade.

Time for coffee, then I'll start work ...

Salt Publishing are wonderful

I can't quite believe this, but Nicholas Royle has just asked to include my story 'The Swimmer' in The Best British Short Stories 2011, due out in April from Salt Publishing http://www.saltpublishing.com/  and  http://bestshortstories.wordpress.com/author/nicholasroyle/ . Blimey - I feel deeply honoured!

'The Swimmer' was the first story I sent out (and only the second I'd finished, if I'm honest) so I'm somewhat wide eyed and stunned. But finishing 'The Swimmer' last summer was what I needed to get me going (I've long had an extensive collection of brilliant openings), and I've since finished (or nearly finished) a handful more - I just hope I can produce something I like as much as 'The Swimmer'!.