We have now officially moved from ‘Crump Towers.’ I jest not. To explain, our last home was situated in ‘Crump Way’, named after William Crump, the head gardener at Madresfield Court, Malvern in the 1880’s. He cultivated the ‘William Crump’ apple, which was lovely for him, but naming a location with ‘Crump’ in the title is a little more questionable. Every time I was asked for the address, usually by a service provider, there would be a titter followed by ‘Are you serious?’ A witty writer mate (Sarah Vincent) came up with ‘Crump Towers’ and it stuck. Thankfully, our new address is cute, suits the cottage vibe, and the area.
But that isn’t the only change. Exactly a week ago, I pretty much switched off from social media due to the move. Tuning in via a mobile Wi-Fi, I ‘lurked,’ threw in the odd comment and, though tempted to enter a debate about whether or not independent editors who help writers should be acknowledged by publishers, I resisted the urge. Did the sky fall in or my world collapse? Absolutely not. It also got me thinking how incredibly dependent, dare I say addictive, social media can be – and not always in a healthy way. It’s no accident that doctors advise those who suffer from depression (I’m not particularly thinking about writers) to steer clear. This is not to say that I won’t enter the fray again next week, although, rightly or wrongly, I’ve always been an advocate of the ‘less is more’ philosophy.
Other breaking news: Harper Collins is hosting a big 200th Anniversary bash next week, which promises to be a glam affair. DHH Literary Agency is having a party for bloggers mid-July, and ‘Vixenhead’ is about to go through a metamorphosis. No changes in the story or text, I might add, just a little finessing to make it more attractive as a ‘Killer Read.’ Watch this space…