TELLY: THE APPRENTICE

I am SO excited because The Apprentice is back. It really is the only thing on TV I actually remember to watch - apart from Homeland and ... well, Homeland, really. 

The first two episodes have been that heart-racing mix of hilarious stupidity and outright nob-ending and I LOVE IT.

Two things are already standing out for me:

1. Why are most of the girls dressed like they're auditioning for a Business Lady Stripper role?  Have I missed something or can you not be taken seriously as a woman in business unless you wear six inch fuck-me heels and do your hair like Katie Price? They're attractive women, but they looked like dolls sitting at the boardroom table.

And one of them's a doctor for God's sake. It's embarrassing.  I was genuinely gutted when Jaz left - as comedian Kathryn Ryan rightly noted, she was the only one who didn't look like they'd had their make-up done by Take Me Out.

It's also hugely disappointing that one of the candidates chose to describe herself as having the 'energy of the Duracell bunny, the sex appeal of Jessica Rabbit and the brain of Einstein' yet then went on to ask who the president of the UK was ... If you're going to sell yourself as something, at least try to live up to it.

There's nothing wrong with being a sexy, powerful, successful woman. Of course there isn't. But there is something wrong when you notice the shoes first and the business sense second. 

2. The boys are no better. A clutch of posturing, vain, dim-witted morons all shouting over each other how bloody amazing they are at selling, guys.  The kind of men who think that if you say something enough times, it's true.  Even the Silly Shit PhD student is useless - anyone who undercuts HIS OWN COLLEAGUE is a fuckwit on any planet.

However, my favourite is Alex Mills who dresses like Del Boy and came up with the Silly Shit's name of the Silly Shit and also called him a Pleb in fury. I didn't even know that was still in use (outside of Tory MPs, natch, whose entire cannon of swearwords are sourced solely from Biggles stories). His camel coat worn over the shoulders a' la Jerry from The Good Life ... AWESOME.

At this point, it's too wide a playing field to say who might win, but I'm going to say the final five will, hopefully, be: 

Ice Maiden Stephanie - she may be unpopular with the other women, but I like her humanity.

The one wearing Laboutins (Natalie?) - she seemed on it a bit more than the rest at the Brewery.

Niall The Cock - the cocks always seem to stay in and are good value.

The Body (Miles?) - he seems cool and calm enough to get through a Board Room Attack.

Alex. Because he's bloody brilliant.

The rest will be nailed by their own desperation.

WRITING: Is Chick Lit really just a woman's world?

The other week, I went to an author's night which included the rather wonderful Polly Williams (who, it turns out, is a friend of mine's sister-in-law - I know - this means we're essentially related) speaking on a panel about her current book.  She was joined by Veronica Henry and Ciara Geraghty ( both brilliantly engaging too - Ciara in particular is hilarious: if you get a chance to see her at a book event, go. She also has awesome hair).  All three were super bright, articulate and funny - it was such an inspiring night I came out all aglow.

But, since then, something that Polly said during the course of the evening keeps snagging in my head. She was sharing an anecdote about how a stuffy literary broad-sheet critic had savaged one of her early books and how, a few years later, she happened to be seated next to him at a wedding. He was, of course, nervously charming and everything ended up happily, but the review still stung.

Polly was incredibly discreet and did not name or give away any identifying features but from what was said, he was clearly a middle-aged white man.  I'm guessing of the kind that's predisposed to calling you 'dear' from the moment you're introduced. (Veronica Henry guessed straight off who it was, btw, (and was equally discreet) because he'd also ripped one of her books apart.)

I can't remember exactly how he'd done it, but it was a fairly ruthless assassination of Polly's book that, in the main, women had embraced and enjoyed.

But we all laughed at how of course he'd be a shit about those books.  Of course he would because they weren't aimed at him, anyway!

Which is what's stuck with me: that it was accepted in that room, by practically everyone, that this stuffy old fart wouldn't like Polly's book.

It seems that we all accept that genres, in particular gender genres, are still very much alive and kicking. We are accepting that this book - the one with the soft, feminine cover - this is for girls. This one here, with the  sweat sheen muscular forearm with a smear of car oil beneath a bright yellow, angry font. That's for boys.

Are we still writing in sexes?


It's not about women writers. Not at all.  There are men writing Women's Commerical Fiction now too and plenty of women write Literary fiction (isn't all writing literature??? Whatevs, don't get me started on THAT).

It's about the audience.


One of the most frustrating things is that women readers, as a sex, are a genre.

If you asked Andy McNabb (sorry, he's the most opposite of Polly Williams I can think of) who his audience was, would he say 'Men'? No. He'd say: 'People who like fast-paced, violence-rich, kind of non-story stories'.

Do you think Hilary Mantell says 'Women?'. No. She says 'People who are interested in challenging, literary historical fiction'. (I guess. I'm pretty sure she'd put it a whole lot better than that. Hilary Mantell is AWESOME).

PEOPLE WHO LOVE CRIME. PEOPLE WHO LOVE PSYCHOLOGICAL STUFF. PEOPLE WHO LOVE HORSES.

WOMEN.


We even have a specific CATEGORY for us: Women's Commercial Fiction. What authors are in Commercial Fiction? What's the difference between that and the category with the word Woman at the front?

And the WORST thing about it is this: it is totally acceptable for fiction written for women to be seen as the easy option.  It's okay for people to say the word Chick Lit with a sneer, even by some who write within the genre. It's expected for books tackling tough subjects - Jojo Moyes' for example - to have soft, girly covers. It is a given that fiction written FOR WOMEN will not get a decent review from a man who writes for a broadsheet newspaper. Commercial Women's Fiction, for those outside of the circle, is dismissed as fluff and nonsense. It fills their pretty little heads and keeps them quiet for the weekend.

Why don't we expect critics to like books written in this genre, even if they are old farts?  Why do we accept being marginalised?

If we really think 'oh he just won't get it' then we'll never get out of the sidelines. What's to GET? It's a funny, touching, romantic etc. story with a (in the main) female protaganist. WHAT IS SO HARD TO 'GET' ABOUT THAT???  If the Old Fart wouldn't connect with that story, why did the newspaper ask him to REVIEW IT????

When I first published my Chick Lit book on Amazon, it was uncategorised, but I was still surprised that the first person to read and report back on it was my ex-boyfriend from school. A very Alpha male ex-boyfriend who said it wasn't what he'd usually read but he'd actually really enjoyed it. He knows I'm married so I'm guessing it wasn't part of some ruse to get me back (we snogged for three weeks 20 years and 20lbs ago). Which means there's a whole world of books out there that this man who, it appears, always wears sunglasses and likes guns, would absolutely love but he's not been made aware of.

I call that a travesty. A TRAVESTY.

BUT ...

Having said that: do we want to come out of the sidelines? It's not as if money's not being made over there and it's offering talented women (and men) success.  Do we, readers and writers of Women's Commercial Fiction, actually choose to be in a world of our own where are stories are discovered by people like us and adored in a way that few other genre books are. Do we care that Old Farts don't like them?

And how much does it matter anyway? Polly Williams' career was hardly destroyed by that dreadful review.

I guess the itch that can't quite be scratched is the acceptance of marginalisation. I like that there is a whole network out there of greedy readers who can't wait to get their mitts on the latest release. I guess that what makes me sad is that it just feels like we're limiting ourselves.  These are, at the end of the day, REALLY GOOD BOOKS and those people who dismiss them as 'just' Chick Lit don't know what they're missing.  That's all.

So am I right? Is it time to rise up against the ChickLit dismissers?

Or am I less right - is being part of an exclusive club a powerful place to be?


Download my book from Amazon today for a sunny Bank Holiday read!

One Way Or Another - Lucy Barker

HISTORY: IT'S AMAZING!

I'm doing some research for a story I'm working on at the moment and came across a place called The Parting of the Ways which is in the north of Sweetwater County, Wyoming.

This is where the California and Oregan Emigrant trail diverged and travellers decided whether they kept on the main route to towards Fort Bridger or cut across the Little Colorado Desert on a 'Cut Off'.  Opened in 1844, it offered a much faster journey - shaving 46 miles on the journey - but while the main route was well-watered, taking this option included fifty-or so waterless miles.  Still, some travellers were more risky than others and from 1849 it's popularity increased with people keen to get to the other side as quickly as possible.

There's something so significant about this little fork in the road: there's no particular landmark here that would make a deviation in course obvious. The only way it became ... anything was because one day someone called Greenwood (FACT) went right.  And then the people behind went right. And then the people behind. And then someone put it on a map. 

What I love from this image is that even though the wagons stopped going through here about a hundred years ago, the wheel ruts are still so clear and the sagebrush plain is still wide open.  You don't have to even imagine what it was like. Sure it's not hearts and flowers romantic, but there's something so historically romantic about this that it fills me up with inspiration.

NEW SKILLS: COOKING JO PRATT'S FISH PIE

When I was little my parents could only have fish pie if I was out of the house for the evening. I really, really hated it. Even the residual smell when I returned would make me gag.

Now, though ... well. I'm a bit more grown up. I can just about eat a prawn without thinking about its wife, children and the fact that its diet consists of little more than poop.  Making a fish pie is a bit of a milestone for me.

And I made one last night.

I've had the In the Mood For Food for years. I bought it because it had a nice pattern and she looked pretty but the recipes all looked a bit grown up for me.I did want to do the pomegranet salad: it's photographed in such a lovely little lunchbox, though, that I got distracted by wanting an equally lovely lunchbox too and the salad was forgotten. Discovering this little gem nestled inside has made all those years of moving it from house to house worth it.

I have to say, this recipe was easy and ridiculously tasty. The sauce was thick and silky and totally lumpless - I couldn't believe I made it. The topping is made by grating the potatoes (I got Rob to do that), squeezing all the moisture out through a tea-towel and then cooking it off for a few minutes in butter before scattering the top.  I'd never even heard of that method.  My repertoire is definitely expanding.

And this is it on my plate with some peas.

And here's the recipe.

Fish Pie with Sweet Potato topping (although I used White) from Jo Pratt's In the Mood For Food

• 50 g butter
• 1 bunches spring onions, sliced
• 50 g plain flour
• 400 ml milk
• 500 g cod, coley or haddock fillets, skinned and cut into chunks
• 200 g cooked tiger prawns
• 150 g smoked salmon, cut into strips
• 1 tbsp chopped dill, or parsley
• 1 lemon, grated zest only
• squeeze lemon juice

For the topping

• 700 g sweet potatoes, peeled - I used white potatoes in exactly the same way.
• 40 g butter
• 50 g matured cheddar cheese, grated

1. Preheat the oven to 180C/gas 4.

2. Melt the butter in a large pan, add the spring onions and cook until softened. Stir in the flour, and cook for about 30 seconds before gradually adding the milk. Bring to a simmer and cook for a couple of minutes until you have smooth thick sauce.

3. Stir in the white fish, prawns, smoked salmon, dill or parsley, lemon zest and lemon juice. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Once the sauce is bubbling and the cod is starting to flake a little, remove from the heat.

4. Spoon into a large 1.5-1.8 litre pie dish or 4 individual dishes and leave to cool while you prepare the topping.

5. For the topping: coarsely grate the sweet potato. Place in a clean tea towel and squeeze out the excess water.

6. Melt the butter in a pan and add the grated potato. Stir over a medium heat for a couple of minutes until the potato is coated in butter and starting to soften.

7. Scatter the potato over the top of the pie, leaving a rough topping rather than pressing it down. Sprinkle over the grated cheese.

8. Place on a baking tray and bake for 30 minutes, until the top is golden and the filling is starting to bubble over the edges.

NEW SKILLS: COOKING WITH JAMIE OLIVER'S 30 MINUTE MEALS

So far, I've done three recipies from my Jamie Oliver's 30 Minute Meals. My favourite so far has been the Pork Chops, Smashed Potatoes and Minty Savoy Cabbage.

I skipped the fennel seeds (I couldn't find them in the shops) and I didn't get the skin-on chops so there was no crackling.  So basically it was chops and potatoes, but doing the potatoes in the microwave gave them this really interesting stodgy but firm texture which we both really liked.  It's fun not skrimping on butter either. I felt very En Francaise.

Jamie really goes for combining flavours and sometimes this can be a bit much, but this was just right.  Maybe because I missed the fennel.  The lemon in the potatoes on their own was a bit 'hmmm' but with the chops it was 'oo'.

I also loved the Fiery Noodle Salad which is from the Chicken Skewers with Amazing Satay Sauce recipe. 

The chicken and satay sauce was nice enough, but the flavours in the noodle salad were AMUUZING.  And so easy.  Although you serve it cold with the warm chicken which wierded my husband out.  He ate it like it was alive, shooting me occasional, tentative looks and saying 'it's supposed to be cold, right?'.

Also got a good tip on how to thread the chicken onto the skewers. Showing here.

WHEN GOOD ARTISTS GO BAD

I mean, of all the images you'd want to recreate in coloured pencils, how far down the list do you think this was?

Technically really very good but ... that gurn forever immortalised in a 2B. Poor Hugh.

WELL HELLO, MOLLY

I've FINALLY got what YouTube's for.  So not only can I devote a good 75% of my working day looking for videos of Hugh Jackman, I can also UPLOAD things for people who like to look at, say, puppies enjoying their first visit to the beach.

This is Molly, our too-adored cockapoo puppy, discovering the beach.  She was just under three months then and is now a strapping almost five. Short of dressing her in a coat made of diamonds and french manicuring her claws, it's safe to say she's a ridiculously spoiled pup. 

Until recently she had the perfect cockapoo mop top but it was driving me nuts because I couldn't see her eyes and she wouldn't sit still long enough for me to put it into a glittery hairband, so I decided to give her a trim.  Now, I tend to think I can do anything but, as it turns out, I'm no dog groomer.  It was just supposed to be a gentle trim around the eyes but I basically Hathaway'd her.

Now it's hard to show what it was like before because she never stays still for long enough but it was a bit like this.

 And now it's like this.

And this is pretty much what it was like when I was doing it.

At least she's on trend.