Today marks the release date of the paperback of Bringer of Light, whose marvellous cover (see right) looks even better in the smaller format.

I'm hoping anyone reading this will agree with the above sentiment on principle, but if you want to make the sentiment practical, and you live in the West Country, then I invite you to come down to Clevedon Community Bookshop, Clevedon, Somerset, on July 7^th. Actually, just visit anyway – they've got rooms and rooms (I exaggerate not) of second hand books.

I'll be there on Saturday the 7^th of July, from 6pm to 7.30pm, doing a reading, signing some books and answering questions/giving a short talk (haven't decided exactly which yet; possibly both). Tickets for the event cost a mere £5 with includes a drink and tapas (mmm, tapas). If you fancy coming along, or want directions to the shop in order to visit in your own time, please contact Carol on 01275 218318 or email enquiries@clevedoncommunitybookshop.coop.

Every year for the last two decades, I’ve spent a week in another world. Specifically in a town-sized folly/ersatz Italianate village/prison for secret agents/luxury hotel, located in another dimension/the 1960s/North Wales.

Portmeirion was built by the early twentieth century eccentric Clough Williams-Ellis, who referred to his life’s work as ‘a home for fallen buildings’. And so it is. A combination of indolence and a tech mismatch (this despite being in a House of Geeks!) means I’ve no pictures to show you but you can check out the main website here, although it doesn’t really do the place justice.

Like many other geeks, I came to Portmeirion via The Prisoner – the original series that is, an episode of which is shown at 6pm every evening on Village TV. Beloved and I visited on a hot summer day back in 1991, and were entranced by the quirky yet beautiful village and gardens set in a wooded vale looking across a sandy estuary to the mountains. When we found you can actually stay here, either in the hotel proper or by hiring the larger houses by the week, we were hooked. Over the last two decades we’ve cumulatively spend several months, and far too much disposable income, in The Village.

Back before I gave up having a proper job for the glamorous life of a writer we used to stay in the hotel for special occasions; although such decadence is now beyond our means, the annual spring gaming holiday is an ongoing institution. This has always been a social event, with between 10 and 14 of us staying in a pair of adjacent houses. This year, it being the twentieth anniversary of our first holiday here, a select half dozen of us have gone on to enjoy a second week in Chantry Cottage, this being the first place we ever stayed (there's a picture of Chantry here, if you page down - not really a cottage at all, is it?). I’ve not been in this house for a while and was somewhat surprised to find that this house has one more bedroom than I remembered it having. But then, that’s The Village for you.

Eastercon was good, if exhausting. Hullo to everyone I met there, old friends and new. As usual I remembered what I meant to say on the panels I was on ten minutes after they were over.

In other news, the most excellent Philip Palmer has been running a guest feature on his blog on SFF music and has allowed me to contribute. After much indecision I went for something obscure but to me, highly inspirational. See what you think...

I'll be arriving on Saturday morning, after which my schedule is:

Saturday 4pm, Royal B+C 'The Fantastic Landscape' with Nina Allan, Niall Harrison and Paul McAuley. Exploring the part of place and setting in SFF; should be fun.

Sunday 12 noon, Royal B+C 'Wench! Fetch Yon Tankard Here' with Joe Abercrombie, Bella Pagan and David Tallerman. In which we discuss how to avoid character cliches and dubious dialogue, possibly with (embarrassing) examples.

Sunday 8pm in Room 12, signing session in the company of many other interesting people, I suspect.

Monday 11am, Royal B+C 'When Science Meets SF' with Caroline Mullan, Nik and Tricia Sullivan. Does what it says on the tin.

At other times during the day I'm likely to be in the Dealers' Room helping out at Liz Williams' fabulous occult emporium. In the evening, try the bar.

I do have a spare attending membership to sell (not mine, obviously). If you're interested in buying it, please email me using the 'Contact Me' button just over there -->

*and no, I'm not sure exactly what 'Royal B+C' is; hopefully no actual maths is involved.

Please note that I do not:

a) habitually buy flowers

or

b) celebrate any Hindu festivals

(I know, I know: there's no sentience behind this latest spate of spam. But it is perplexing in its irrelevance.)

Having just got the 'Are you happy being on with these programme items?' email from the Eastercon committee, and replied that I am, thank you, I can confirm that I intend to be at the con from Saturday morning until Monday lunchtime. They've asked me to participate in three panels, all of which look very interesting.

Once the hard-working programme dudes have collected all the participants' answers and finalised what's happening when, I'll post full details of what I'm doing.

In other news: the edits on Queen of Nowhere are progressing, albeit more slowly than I had hoped owing to an unscheduled outbreak of day-job.

This post is dedicated to any readers of this blog working hard to see their stories in print ...There's a box of books on my landing which will, when I get round to it, go up into t'garret.

They're books I wrote, specifically twenty paperback copies of Principles of Angels, purchased at 'author rates' from Gollancz as an investment for my old age (or possibly to flog at Eastercon).

With four books in print and another one due out later this year, I've become a little blasé being what I always wanted to be: a professional writer. However, I just walked past and picked one of my books up and had a moment of wonder, because five years ago I had almost given up on that dream. I never thought I'd see one novel I wrote on the shelves of bookshops and reviewed across the net and in print, let alone four. Yet now it's my life: not entirely as advertised (I haven't entirely given up the day-job for a start), but hell, still The Dream.

Becoming a professional writer involved years of hard work and frustration but in the end it paid off. I got my lucky break - ask me about that some time, there's a story in itself. What matters is, it happened to me. So, stick the course and it could happen to you.

Whilst I owe my blog a more considered post, this is not it, due to a number of factors, not least of which is a surfeit of sugar.

Instead I'd like to share a random thought that I had as a reader. It's also something that, as a writer, I aspire to:

When we read a good story, we are compelled to read on in order to find out what's really going on; when we do find out we are amazed, delighted, surprised … and we retain a solid belief in what we have discovered. A good story takes us along for the ride, and doesn't dump us at the roadside.

... then this weekend, after having spent a fine time with good friends, I'd go back and do the weekend again, this time attending Picocon, where I'd see more friends, hear some great talks, drink cheaply and comprehensively in a student bar, do an SFF pub quiz and quite possibly watch grown men fighting a seafood-based duel.

Annoyingly, I don't have a time machine but if you, with or without your time machine, find yourself at loose end in London this Saturday, I suggest you consider attending this small but perfectly formed convention. Tell 'em Jaine sent you.

ETA: Actually I wouldn't be drinking in the bar, because, whilst the Imperial College SF Soc are fabulous people, I've just discovered that the College itself allowed this nasty piece of sh*te see to the light of day, albeit mercifully briefly, and there's no way anyone who thinks this is funny is getting my patronage.