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2nd October. Yesterday disappeared, time slipped through my fingers. Signed more books and walked dogs on the beach. Plagued by an aching head and pain in my eyes. Have finished all the work for Darim, but feeling very nervous about it. (It is always difficult working with new publishers, but they have been wonderful to work with. At the beginning of the project they sent me two kites and I didn't fly them until I had finished the work. So now I wait for a fair wind to see how they rise into the clouds. And meanwhile I have to put the artwork in the post and send to Korea.) Sent off a jpeg of the cover and today woke to find a mock-up of the cover in my inbox. Looks great with the type set. The book is for a collection of stories from around the world, a very elegant and beautifully produced collection. News from Frances Lincoln is that the Snow Leopard is selling very well and half of the first print run is gone already. In France the French publisher took 7000 copies and has already ordered a reprint even though as I understand it the official publication date is not until November. And today it is my lovely mum's birthday. 3rd October. It is a misty moisty autumn morning and I have walked the dogs on the wide beach. The sky was darker than pewter in the distance and the air was thickened by water. I have a fake fur leopard spotted coat, perfect for The Snow Leopard. The house still looks like it is inhabited by a rather dirty family of trolls, and I need blinkers to get to the studio to paint.
4th October. The brightest most beautiful of days, warm like summer, moon in the sky. Walking round Abermawr and Aberbach with Tom after school, painting in between signing books.
6th October. Tycanol, watching the autumn. More time should be spent lying down watching birds fly through the canopy, watching leaves fall and listening as they land.
Magic. Twisting trees and green moss rocks, bright autumn leaves on the ground and green still clinging tight to the trees. Sweet song from small birds and the buzzing of insects. Ancient stones and walls tell stories of where people lived and in a clearing a pond with so many bright dragonflies.
9th October. Starlight, shooting stars and a rising wind rattling the leaf bones clinging to the ash tree. Houses dark against the star sky. No moon. No shadows. Sound of distant surf. Tomorrow will go looking for curlew again. 10th October. Linnets. Seals at Porthselau. Sunshine on crisp wrinkled water. Ragged crows and jackdaws. At home a pile of post after days of the postal strike, and one is a box from Belinda Recio at The True North Gallery, in South Hamilton, USA, with a beautiful polar bear. The bear and child are made by Leah Ohitook in the tiny community of Taloyoak, high above the arctic circle. Beautifully crafted they sit in my studio and watch and wait as the story I have written about the Ice Bear unravels itself and begins to weave itself around to form some dancing words anew.
11th October. Just before I drive off towards Redditch for a day working in a school the proofs for Singing to the Sun arrive from Egmont. Always a difficult moment. I clear a few things, pack a bit more then nervously open the package. The paper is a slight cream colour and think and lovely and for the first time ever the pictures look like they should in a book and the whole design is lovely and the colour on the paper works and they have made my work look magical. Days later still glowing from how good the pages look, each following the other. Read the story in the school in Bromsgrove and it works so well with its twist and turn.
14th October. Back home. Night. Starlight, satellite, car light, lighthouse light. Foot fall, pawfall and the sea song on the shore as a distant dog breaks the quiet that is soon mended. The longest shooting star falls to earth with an arc of vapor trailing behind. The stars are falling to celebrate the launch of Neil Gaimon's "Stardust" film.
16th October. Early morning dog walking in the dark with the morning stars. Orion strides across the sky. Slowly all things begin to come to light. The morning star is the brightest. All is quiet, wrapped in the start of the day. Later working at the teaching centre in Neyland trying to remember all that I had wanted to say about writing and words and the lay of language. Read The Seal Children for the first time out loud, but it sounded so much better in Welsh. And later still walking again in the evening dark and the stars now are the nighttime stars. Painting Tintaglia for the Robin Hobb "Liveships" covers, and a romantic owl and pussycat for someone's wish.
18th October. Too too busy but wandered off with the dogs in the autumn sunshine. It was cold this morning, outside. Inside still warm enough to manage with no heating, but the first fire will be soon. So, signed books, finished owl and pussycat so it will have time to dry. Still have an aching head, though am looking now for lavendar tea as a suggested remedy. Nick Green has a wonderful poem on his blog. It helped me out when I was struggling with Classic Poems (which is now in its third reprint). Books arrived in the post, The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue and Peter Pan in Scarlett by Geraldine Mc Caughrean for me, girly stuff for Hannah and Conn Iggulden's ancient Rome books for Tom. And loads of music too. Washing on the line beginning to stir in a breeze.
19th October. Yesterday I gilded a dragon. Today I am practicing charming the birds out of the trees and am chasing trolls from the house. The sun is shining and my headache has flown. Life is sweet.
24th October. Too much to do so I walked up the hill with cats and dogs to lie between earth and the blue sky and watch the birds fly. Head full of wolves and dragons and bears and cats and sea- serpents, and there are invitations to be written for the exhibition in December, and roughs to be worked and stories to be started and stories to be altered.
Yesterday Hannah and I went to see Neil Gaiman's Stardust. The film was lovely and magical and different to the even more wonderful book, but beautiful still. The cinema is everything to put you off ever going to the cinema again. Uncomfortable over priced seats and stale popcorn and about as much warmth as a frosty day.
25th October. Too much time away from the drawing board mind tangled in administrative details and chasing invoices. Settled at last to gild a sea-serpent for the Robin Hobb Liveships books. Yesterday an offer for a new and tempting book came, and went again. There are not enough hours in the day and there are other things that I want to do and already I have so little time to paint and to write. Singing to the Sun is off to America. My books are better travelled than me. Had writer's bock trying to write the invitation for the exhibition in St Davids. Feling like a muddle-headed wombat.
28th October. Gilding Liveships, walking in sunshine, playing on the beach with dogs.
29th October. Woke up and vision fell into a kaleidoscope of dancing colours. Headache hit a little later. Went back to bed to sleep off a migraine and the rest of the day dissolved into sending out exhibition previews and other things, while struggling to find simple words in a world of mild dysphasia. Tomorrow may be better.
30th-31st October. Dropped off books at Cover to Cover in the Mumbles on the way to cardiff to see Christy Moore in St Davids Hall. Wonderful. He can sing up a storm to raise the house and wisper out a song of rare beauty. A lifetime of singing and living shine through in his music. Wonderful.
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