Lugubrious sounds as though it should be something fun, doesn’t it? It actually means, doleful, mournful or dismal.
As far as I can recall I’ve only ever come across it in relation to speech, but characters needn’t just speak lugubriously, the could show their inner lugubriousness through a sad expression and dejected manner.
Much as I like the sound of foghorns, I think it would be fair to describe the noise they make as lugubrious.
A few days ago I got up early, had a few cups of tea and wrote out a list of things I needed to know for book 3 in my Little Mallow cosy mystery series. Then a writer friend kindly drove me, and another of her friends, to Portsmouth where I had a coffee (I know! But we were in a coffee shop so it seemed the thing to do) as we were early for the crime festival in the university.
We had a very interesting and enjoyable day, listening to a variety of informative and entertaining lectures, persuading police officers to help us with our research enquiries, looking at displays – and yes, drinking tea.
At one of the forensic stands I accepted the offer of a souvenir keyring. That is one of my fingerprints (not the typing one).
Once back home I needed three cups of tea to see me through typing up all my notes! I have to do that fairly quickly as I can only read my handwriting whilst I can still remember what it’s supposed to say.
Now I’m all set to get back to writing the book.
Aunt Glenda’s Cottage is the name of my story in the current (May) issue of Take A Break’s Fiction Feast.
Isn’t that a lovely illustration – and very much how I imagined the cottage as I wrote the story.
This particular tale began life as an entry for my local writing group’s short story competition. At least, that was the plan! We had to include beads, baubles and boxes, which I had no trouble with (Glenda has plenty in her attic).
The problem was that the story had to be no more than 1,000 words, and this one is nearly double that. I rewrote it for the magazine, and created a new one for the competition (which won!).
Both were crime stories, using the same prompt, and involved attics and a bully, but are far more different than that might make them sound.
I read and enjoyed these books in April. There were more, but it’s been a bit hectic and I lost track. So much for these blog posts being a way to remind me which books I’ve read!
I’ll be on Radio Victory this morning – Bob Bruce’s Morning Call programme which runs from 10 to 12. I’ll be talking about my Little Mallow cosy mystery series and no doubt a whole lot of other stuff!
Here’s the link, in case you missed it and would like to listen. (Please excuse the excess of cake.)
According to my dictionary, hyperbole (pronounced hyperbollee) is ‘an exaggerated statement not meant to be taken literally’. I wish someone would tell the media (especially the local news) and marketeers that.
People are never a bit upset and mildly inconvenienced when a bus service changes or the lift is out of order, they’re devastated, trapped and stranded. When there’s a mistake on their gas bill they’re not a bit surprised and then glad when it’s sorted out, they’re shocked, dismayed and horrified then hugely relieved.
Food manufacturers don’t release a new flavour, instead it’s an exciting new recipe or unique taste sensation. Products are never quite a good idea which might be useful, they’re innovative and life changing.
TV programmes are never quite amusing, they’re always hilarious and slide-splittingly funny. Presumably ‘they’ watch the director’s cut, leaving me with the version which got slightly lost in translation … either that or I’m just a complete and total misery. Yeah, could be that.
Here’s a picture of a deadly poisonous fungi I risked life and limb to photograph for you. Or, without the hyperbole, here’s a fungi which might not be good to eat and which was growing on a slope of wet grass, meaning that had I not been careful I could have slipped a bit as I walked up to it.
This morning I’m drinking tea and studying book one in my cosy mystery series. The tea part is standard for me (there are two cups, because I always make two and if Gary isn’t awake yet, I drink both).
I’m looking at my book, because I have a radio interview about it later this morning, and hope to sound as though I know what I’m talking about! That’s harder than it sounds as I’ve not long finished editing book two, and as it’s the same location and many characters recur, it would be easy to get them mixed up.
After the interview, I’ll be home for a much needed cup of tea and breakfast, and will get back to work on book three.
I’m sure you all know that a calendar is the kind of chart thingy with the days and months of the year divided up. You’re probably also aware that it’s very easy to type calender instead (you will be if you’ve read any of my drafts as I’m always doing it)
Did you know a calender is a real thing?
A calender is machine which uses rollers to press paper or cloth into smooth sheets. (The cat is sat on my slightly rumpled quilt, which is the closest photo I had. No, I won’t be producing an illustrated dictionary!)
No, I’m not issuing an ultimatum – that’s the title of my story in the current issue of Ireland’s Own. (You won’t tell them that despite my name, and the fact I spent my honeymoon there, I’m not really Irish, will you?)
As the strapline suggests, this story is about two strong-willed characters. It’s also about a mother-in-law who likes to get her own way, and is perhaps even a bit stubborn. Of course it’s entirely fictional and has absolutely no basis in reality whatsoever.
On an unrelated note, I find that writing can be a very cathartic process.
A tribute is a thing said, done or given as a mark of respect or affection.
Followed by ‘to’ it’s an indication of a praiseworthy quality (as an example, my dictionary gives ‘their success is a tribute to their perseverance’ which I particularly like).
A tribute used to be how miners pay was calculated and could also mean a payment made by one state or ruler to another.
Tribute was also the make of our old campervan (or do I mean model?)