That Sadie Thing is now available in paperback. You probably got that from the title of this post, and from the photo of me holding it! But, you know, I just want to make sure.
You can grab your copy here!
There are three stories exclusive to this edition of the book. Here's a very brief extract from one of the new stories, My Mother's Mother's Mother:
"One time, so family legend has it, she squared up to a policeman, all five foot two inches of her standing on tip-toes and staring him straight in the eye, neither of them conceding. Just as the policeman looked ready to arrest her she leant forward, kissed him on the cheek and skipped away.
Why didn’t you let yourself get arrested? asked my grandmother, disenchanted.
Why did you kiss him at all? asked my mother, disapprovingly."
I thought it would be fun to post up something from the novel I'm working on at the moment. Last week it was called 'The Sleeper', this week it's called 'The Solution'... Next week, who knows! It's a contemporary, psychological suspensey thing (okay, I need to work on the genre too), and I'm not going to explain what's going on here at all :-)
“What do you know about Elizabeth?” asks the doctor, and her ears prick up.
The group looks blank. They’re all there, the gang – Jeff, Charlie, Lauren; all of those who haven’t confined themselves to bed. See, this is what you’re missing, in your endless slumber.
They look blank and shake their heads. “Nothing.”
He asks, “What do you think of her?” and writes in that blasted notepad.
“Of who?” asks Charlie.
Elizabeth, from the walls, squeezed into the blue flowery wallpaper; she thinks her name sounds so musical when the doctor says it. Growing up, it was always a harsh name.
“You can’t ask us that, can you? It’s not ethical,” Jeff says this, and Elizabeth studies him now. Small darting eyes look directly at her for a second, unseeing.
The doctor shrugs.
“She’s a ghost,” says Lauren quietly. “Sometimes she’s there, but when you turn to say hello, she’s gone.”
Elizabeth shivers. She tries hard to remain here and listen.
“It’s creepy, the way she just looks at you. She never says anything,” says Charlie.
Jeff, it seems, is refusing to take part. He tuts at every comment. His legs are crossed, his arms folded against his chest. Body turned away from the group, away from Elizabeth.
The doctor pushes his glasses back up his nose. “You’ve never heard her speak? None of you?” He inspects each of them. He removes his glasses, takes notes. He crosses his leg; grey trousers ride up to show off grey socks.
They all shake their heads, these strange people grouped together precisely because they don’t belong in groups. And now being asked to nominate the strangest of them! Is Elizabeth somehow the most strange?
Am I more abnormal than these people? Have I ever drawn on my body when green pen? No. Am I a liar? No. Does the news make me shriek and wail? No.