The Latest News from Joanne

~ October 2007 ~

Nearly a week later, I'm still overrun by mail about Nicky Campbell's horse/dog story. It's getting out of proportion now. I'm thinking of opening up a competition on MySpace to see who can come up with the best version of the horse/dog tale....

My problem, of course, is that, like the Cylons, we Joanne Harrises are many.

There's the actress, the singer, the DVD fitness instructor, the journalist, the critic, the religious writer, the painter, the poet and the Johnny Depp fan.

The original Florida horse story, by the way, may be found at the following link:
www.helium.com/tm/572496/years-florida-visit-grandmother

...and isn't me for various reasons. One, I've never visited Florida. Two, I've never ridden a horse. Three, my English grandmmother never put a foot outside Yorkshire, and my French one never left France. I think that kinda puts paid to the burgeoning conspiracy theory...

~ September 2007 ~

Finally, autumn is here – leaving summer behind in a wet puddle. The wasps are back in the roof space (they’re always here by Hallowe’en); the cat’s back indoors after a summer in the conservatory, the SAD lamp is coming out of storage and I’m wondering what I’ve been doing with my time over the past nine months. Of course, bringing out two books in one year makes for a lot of touring, and over the past few weeks I’ve been mostly in schools, talking about Runemarks and reminding myself why I quit teaching…

Actually, I’ve enjoyed it a lot. But it is a little disturbing to find myself once more immersed in a world I thought I’d left for good. Perhaps my ex-colleague Mr Fry is right; you never really stop being a teacher.

Meantime, I’ve been working on a couple of things. The sequel to Runemarks (Runelight) is still in its earliest infancy, but Anouchka keeps pestering me for it, and I’m having a terrific time planning it out. On rainy days, it’s something else, a weird little story called Blueeyedboy, (just a working title, I guess), a reworking of my colours book, which I thought had died on me three years ago, but which has, I hope, come back to life.

Plus, I’ve just finished reading the last of the shortlist for the Daily Mail First Novel Competition. All six are excellent in very different ways, and it’s going to be tricky choosing a winner. Please don’t mail me about them, though; I’m not allowed to discuss them just yet, and given the number of entries (over 800, when last I heard), I obviously wasn’t able to read the ones that didn’t make the list.

Next week, I’m in the US on what my publishers Knopf call a “pre-publication buzz tour”. I’ve never done one of these before, so I’ll blog it on MySpace (Click to visit MySpace), although I don’t think I have any public events, and the whole thing may turn out to be little more than a series of parties with booksellers. In any case, I’ll be back in January with the publication of the book, and besides, it’s always nice to get the chance to thank booksellers, reps, publicists and all the mostly uncredited people who work hard to keep my books on the shelves…

~ 4 September 2007 ~

Pushing the Envelope.

I have designed an envelope for this charity auction again this year. Organised by the National Literacy Trust, bidding can be made through ebay.co.uk from 9 October 2007.

Click here to see all the envelopes contributed so far.

Click here to read the press release.

~ 5 August 2007 ~

The Never Ending Story.

This website is described as "the FREE and UNIQUE website where YOU write the next pages ... of stories started by ... site members from around the world". Sign up and have a go at continuing my contribtion: Wildfire.

Click here to visit my story.

~ 2 August 2007 ~

Publication of Runemarks.

Seven o’clock, on a Monday morning, five hundred years after the end of the world, and goblins had been at the cellar again…

Maddy Smith was born with a rusty-coloured ruinmark on her hand – a symbol of the old gods and definitely cause for suspicion. For magic is dangerous. Or so everyone thinks. But Maddy enjoys working magic. Even if it is just to control some pesky goblins. And every time her friend, One-Eye - a good-for-nowt Outlander - comes by, he teaches her more and more about the gods and the runes.

Now he wants Maddy to open Red Horse Hill and descend into World Below to retrieve a relic of the old gods. Otherwise it is likely to be the End of Everything. Again . . .

Hear the first chapter at: runemarks.co.uk

Read a review at: thebookbag.com

Order your copy through amazon.co.uk

~ May/June 2007 ~

So. What’s it like being an author on tour? I get asked this question repeatedly, and I’m never quite sure how to answer it. The answer varies day-by-day. Interesting. Frustrating. Surreal. Lonely. Terrific. Weird. So rather than give you the usual update this month, I’m going to do what I did last year in the US, and post my book tour day by day. Perhaps it will give you a more accurate impression. Then again, perhaps not.

Wednesday May 9th. Day 1.

This is my official launch day. Things have been building up to this for the past six months, and the profound relief of actually having a book to launch has long since been replaced by the usual feeling of ohmigod. Expectations suck, as Anouchka would say. And the bigger the book, the bigger the expectations. What are my readers going to think? Several have already voiced their dissatisfaction with (a) the new cover designs and (b) the larger cover size, neither of which are my fault (small hardbacks are very unpopular with both Marketing and the store buyers, and their days were numbered from the start). So far there have been a few small reviews, mostly in magazines, but the main ones are yet to come, and though officially I don’t read or care about reviews (all authors say this, and all authors lie), in reality I’d have to be a machine to fail to react to some of the things that I see in print.

Oh, well. Here goes. Today marks the start of a month-long tour that will take me all over the country, then on to New Zealand and Australia. This is wonderful in so many ways, but it also means that (a) I get to miss my daughter’s birthday (again), and the finale of Lost, that (b) I’m away from home for far longer than I’m usually comfortable with, and that (c) once more I don’t do any work.

Today was mostly radio and TV interviews, including Breakfast News (not too stressful, as TV goes) and Woman’s Hour with Jenni Murray, and Paul Blezard of One Word Radio, both of whom always manage to put me at ease. In fact all today’s interviews are fun and stress-free, which means I’m quite relaxed as I get to the launch party, which is being held at LK Bennett’s Covent Garden store. All incredibly glamorous, with canapés and champagne, plus at last I get to wear The Shoes, which are duly admired by all, and make me six inches taller than I usually am. Then, a nice dinner out at Christopher’s, with all my friends from the publisher’s, then back to the hotel, rather late, to sleep it all off before everything starts again tomorrow.

Thursday May 10th.

More radio interviews today, plus stock signings at a number of London bookstores. My posters are all over the Tube, which is at the same time wonderful and slightly intimidating. I see a man reading my book on the train, and have to restrain the urge to go squeeee! like a 12-year-old. Arrive at the bookshops to find that half the stock has been sold, so I’m free to wander about London for a while before making my way back to the hotel. I get a text from Anouchka reminding me to watch House. This, with the help of some fried chicken and a bottle of wine, turns out to be an excellent plan.

Friday, May 11th.

There’s an excellent review in the Mirror today, and a bundle of others, all good, from the press clippings agency. This is nice, although the second wave of reviews tends historically to go against the first. All part of the service, I suppose. Reviewers aim to mess with your mind. Must remember to write a thank-you note to the Mirror reviewer, who clearly read the book to the end (some don’t) and who genuinely liked it. Stock signings in London all morning, then back home by train to a slew of e-mails and phone calls, then hopefully a nice weekend with K. and A. before the whole thing starts again on Monday…

Saturday, May 12th.

No reviews today, though K. tells me I’m no. 4 on Amazon. Several comments about L/S on the message board, however – including some more complaints about (a) the large format (not my fault, (b) the jacket design (still not my fault) and (c), more recently, the font –the font? Someone has got to be having a laugh. No-one consults me about these things…

Sunday, May 13th.

A very nice review in the Sunday Times, though I have barely time to read it. Today is all about washing clothes, packing, checking Anouchka’s homework and revision timetable, adding to my itinerary (Anne is on holiday in Cephalonia, and I miss her) and trying to get all my correspondence finished before I leave. Little chance of that, I’m afraid. If I missed you out, I’m sorry.

Note to self: Anne is not your mother!

Monday, May 14th.

It’s tipping it down with rain here, but Bradley (Transworld’s hyper-efficient driver, facilitator and bodyguard - who is, I suspect, a secret agent working undercover) picks me up in his Batmobile, along with the lovely and super-organized Louise, who arranges PR, interviews and almost every other part of my tour. Radio interviews in Sheffield, one down the line to Radio Scotland, the other with Rony Robinson of Radio Sheffield, then off to Lincoln for a terrific evening event at the festival. It’s a good start, and everyone is enormously enthusiastic about the book (which makes me happy because I’m never quite sure until this moment whether I’ve managed to pull it off), although I am dismayed that so many interviewers ask me what I’m working on now, as if a book tour wasn’t work... Dinner at a local pub (Brad knows all the best ones, of course, even though he doesn’t drink), then off to sleep to the sound of bells. The hard part (I hope) is done…

Tuesday, May 15th.

Today I sign stock in Lincoln, Ely, Peterborough and Cambridge, before moving onto Stamford library for my evening reading. Torrential rain all day, so that during my talk at Stamford library I am forced to rediscover my classroom “projection” voice as I compete desperately with the pounding of water on the glass roof. Someone asks me whether I’m superstitious. I’m not, of course, but I’m thinking of changing my runesign to Sól…

Wednesday, May 16th.

It must have worked. It’s sunny again. We stop at six or seven bookshops, and I’m cheered to see so much enthusiasm for Runemarks, which many booksellers have already read in proof form. My agent phones to say that I’m now number 3 on the Times bestseller list, an excellent result, especially given the competition (Wilbur Smith and Tolkien). Tonight’s event is at Waterstones’ in Basingstoke, and I am greeted with great enthusiasm (and gift bags of chocolates for the audience).

Thursday, May 17th.

Moving across the southwest now, signing stock in bookshops and shopping malls along the way, arriving in Fowey to blue skies and glorious sunshine. Tomorrow I’m doing an event for the Du Maurier festival, which means (among other things) marquees. I’m hoping it stays fine till then – in my experience, marquees and rain don’t go well together. Muddy memories of Hay-on-Wye…

Friday, May 18th.

As it happens, it’s still sunny in Fowey – which is beautiful even when it’s pouring with rain. The reading goes well, thanks to the terrific Libby Purves who is interviewing me onstage, and who manages to make everything so friendly and informal. There are a lot of questions about magic today, especially from a most persistent woman who collars me afterwards to tell me her dog can talk to the dead. Brad drives me back to Plymouth station in time for the train home – six hours of peace and quiet, alone with my laptop and the countryside speeding past… I’m off to New Zealand on Sunday with barely time to turn around, and so tomorrow I’m planning to do as much relaxing as I can before I zoom off once again…

Saturday, May 19th.

In spite of a number of domestic disturbances (including a broken washing machine, some urgent e-mails and a lots of dry-cleaning) I manage a quiet afternoon of junk food and DVDs with Kevin and Anouchka before packing my small case ready to go. I always take an optimistically small case on tour (this is probably due to subliminal memories of Grace Kelly’s tiny travelling case, from which she apparently was able to produce dozens of impeccable outfits), although I often come back with rather more impedimenta (gotta love that word) than I was expecting. Also with me I have my emergency supply of “be fabulous” stuff, including scented candles - as dictated by my friend Joolz Denby, the queen of fabulous, who knows how to live. I bet she doesn’t do small luggage. Still, it’s only two weeks…

Sunday, May 20th.

It takes over 24 hours to reach New Zealand. Fortunately I have my little laptop with me, and a supply of emergency Lost DVDs. The first-class section of the Emirates plane is a marvel of not-quite-convenient technology, and involves flying in a small capsule, rather like a combination coffin and flotation tank, which opens and shuts almost at random throughout the flight, due to the eccentricity of its touch-sensitive controls. To justify the extra expense, I suppose, Emirates have supplied me with a vase of flowers and a bowl of party snacks, both of which are Blu-tacked to the dashboard. I close the capsule and go to sleep (hooray for horizontal beds) for hours.

Monday, May 21st.

Even travelling first class gives me the worst kind of claustrophobia. I think it’s the capsule, now more like a coffin than ever. I’d love to be able to do some work on the plane (it seems criminal to waste such a long trip), but all I can do is eat and watch Lost. Bah. It could be worse, I suppose…

Tuesday, May 22nd. Christchurch .

I arrive in Christchurch at lunchtime, local time. All I want is a shower and sleep. I am greeted at the airport by Sarah, my New Zealand publicist, who will look after me and take me from one event to another. Sarah, like Louise, is both friendly, very bright and hyper-efficient, and hands me a welcome pack and a bundle of New Zealand articles and interviews. I scan these with some apprehension. I never recognize myself in newspaper pieces. People have a habit of helpfully rephrasing (and sometimes re-inventing altogether) things I have said, especially when the interview has been conducted long-distance, by phone. Still, lots of good stuff about the book, which, I suppose, is what really counts. Text Anouchka to find out how her exams are doing. It’s 3 in the morning at home right now. For some reason this makes me feel suddenly very tired (and rather homesick).

Wednesday, May 23rd.

It’s unseasonably warm in Christchurch, and it’s nice to walk in the Botanical gardens (although the piles of autumn leaves take a certain amount of getting used to), and to wander the little streets and tree-lined squares. I don’t really suffer from jetlag, except that somehow I’m ravenously hungry all the time. Sarah takes me to the art gallery, where we have an excellent meal and see some of the strangest art I’ve ever seen, ranging from traditional Maori weaving (fabulous), to a most bizarre and troubling giant inflatable of a giant dead cartoon bunny that greets us, legs splayed at the entrance. Its mate lurks with sinister intent behind a door in another part of the gallery, looking like Thumper after a 10-day bender. Apparently the thing also vibrates, although there’s no way I’m going anywhere near that joker. I sense that this image will affect my sleep patterns for a long time…

The evening reading event is great fun (my jetlag aptly managed on adrenalin and Diet Coke) marvellously well-attended, with a lively 300 plus audience (I especially enjoyed the guy who asked me if, after writing G & P, I had felt threatened by Alan Bennett’s superior work) and a long signing session afterwards.

Note to self: Art can cause migraines. Avoid it henceforth.

Thursday, May 24th.

We’re off to Wellington today, and the sun has followed us there. Sarah keeps threatening rain, but Sól is obviously still on my side, because my lovingly-packed winter woollies (Sarah insisted I pack these) don’t even get a look-in. Evening reading in Wellington is good – my, these Kiwi audiences are very welcoming – and I manage eventually to get to bed, though the industrial quantities of Diet Coke I have consumed make it hard for me to sleep (or is that just the giant bunny? It still haunts my dreams.) I am also anxious, trash that I am, about the finale of Lost, which aired yesterday. I have already invested significant time and emotional energy on this show, and I foresee serious difficulties ahead if my favourite character has perished in the bloodbath that has been widely predicted for the season finale. Absurdly, I worry about this for some time before finally falling asleep, pursued by dreams of the giant bunny.

Friday, May 25th. Wellington.

I breathe again. A friend texts to reassure that our Lost boy lives. Another text from Anouchka (whose style is brevity itself) informs me that her Latin exam (a source of great angst in the Harris household) is over, and was okay. With those two problems out of the way we can proceed to business as usual, and press on to Auckland, where I’m doing a lit-lunch (I normally don’t enjoy these much, but this is a rare exception), and an evening event, after which I am joined by Murray Langham, author of Chocolate Therapy, and his partner-in-chocolate, for what he calls “a couple of drinks” and a chat. Last time we met (too long ago), they were just starting out in chocolate. Now they’re on the brink of going global, thanks to a subversive brand of truly excellent chocolate, practical magic and divination-through-favourites. Murray is a strawberry, he says, which means he’s an easy-going people-pleaser. I tell him my favourites are chocolate cherries. Murray tells me that cherry people are the kinkiest people... Hmm. Not sure what to say to that.

See chocolatetherapy.com

Saturday, May 26th. Melbourne.

Today I have a headache, which I manage to stave off with chocolate. The event at the literary festival is terrific (although I’m asked for the umpteenth time if I’m working on another book yet), and straight afterwards it’s off to the airport to catch my flight to Melbourne. Waving goodbye to New Zealand, I am seated next to a very friendly Aussie who tells me all about Melbourne, and lists all the things I should do when I’m there. Tomorrow I have a free day. I may well follow his advice. I arrive at the hotel to an enormous bunch of flowers from my publishers and a new schedule. I notice the words “cocktail party” and “formal dress” written on it in several places. I don’t have a cocktail frock with me, or anything approaching one (Grace Kelly would never have had this problem). I should have packed a cocktail frock. Joolz would have made me do it, I know. Maybe I can find one in Melbourne tomorrow…

Sunday, 27 thMay. Melbourne.

The hotel is driving me crazy. It’s one of those enormous hotels (this one has 50 floors) where décor takes precedence over practicality. It takes me 10 minutes to get the lift to the ground floor, because it keeps stopping on every floor. Arriving at the breakfast café to find it huge and terribly crowded, I venture out into Melbourne. Sadly my hotel is in a part of the city where you can buy Gucci, pearls, Mont Blanc pens but there’s nowhere you can get a cup of tea. My undying gratitude (well, till lunchtime, anyway) goes to the young man who directed me to a nicely disreputable (I mean atmospheric) café called the Golden Tower, where I was able to eat a civilized meal (and where there is one of the most seriously cool jukeboxes I’ve ever seen) for less than the price of a hotel coffee. I search for a cocktail frock until my nose bleeds and my eyes go crossed. Everything is either size 8 or the price of a small house (usually both). Eventually I find something remarkably decent (and cheap) in a tiny shop in Chinatown.

Note to self: Branches of Starbucks in Melbourne have disposal boxes for used syringes. I find this almost as disturbing as the giant bunny.

Monday, 28th May. Melbourne.

My PR here is Karen Reid, who hasn’t changed a bit since 2001, when she accompanied me on my Five Quarters tour. She is lovely, and seriously well-organized, which is good, because my brain is rapidly melting. She issues me with a new schedule, which I promptly lose.

Tuesday, 29th May.

Fortunately Karen has organization for both of us. With endless tact and good humour, she manages to ensure that (a) I arrive in the right place at the right time and (b) I always know at least 5 minutes in advance what I’m meant to be doing. After today’s lunchtime event we fly to Brisbane, where I do a number of media interviews before my evening event. Rather to my surprise, I can still string two words together with reasonable articulacy, though all my other facilities are now suspended.

Wednesday, 30th May. Sydney.

I’ve been here before, and it’s lovely. The place has changed a little in 6 years, but Sydney still has the same relaxed, villagey atmosphere. I’m staying in a familiar hotel, from which I do a morning’s worth of phone interviews (all my interviewers ask me what I’m working on now, and I suppress the urge to scream at them) before I’m able to take a little time out to visit the place. It’s sunny and warm here (English-summer weather warm, though locals are all wearing coats and scarves), and I enjoy a long walk around Circular Quay, looking at the boats, the wildlife and the people before going back to my hotel for an early night and a long rest. I feel better now I’m on the last leg of this tour; I’ve been away from home for nearly a month and I’m beginning to feel I want to go back. I wonder how Anouchka’s maths exam went…

Thursday, 31st May. Newcastle.

Another day of media today, including breakfast TV (always a stressful experience, in which I am asked ALL the questions I hate the most, including the one about what I’m working on next) and several radio stations. After that it’s a long drive out to Newcastle for my evening reading – and an even longer drive back.

Friday, 1st June, Sydney.

Today is Anouchka’s birthday. I always seem to miss Anouchka’s birthday. In fact everything seems slightly off-kilter today, from breakfast (when I manage to explode the toaster and crash my laptop simultaneously – note to self: too much multi-tasking makes me accident-prone) onwards, and culminating with my farcically managing (a) to lock my laptop in the safe and (b) to completely forget the combination, so that a hotel engineer has to be called in to open it. My event today is a literary lunch, which turns out to be remarkably incident-free, although on returning to my room afterwards I do manage to trap my fingers in the bathroom door.

My reading event goes well, however, to my relief (there seem to be at least 600 people there)…

Saturday, 2nd June, Sydney .

I have a free morning today, during which I go off to explore Sydney again and to buy Anouchka a birthday present. I finally alight upon a leather Bush Hat (it’s more like a mate than a hat! says the slogan) tastefully decorated with crocodile teeth. I know instinctively that Anouchka will find this Very Cool Indeed – and it is waterproof, wind-proof and foldable, says the man in the shop. I buy it, feeling like a tourist, but knowing that this will earn me maternal Credibility Points when I get home… Today’s event is a lit. lunch, not my favourite kind of event, as I’ve never seen the point of trying to eat while someone is making a speech. It is very well-received, however; the audience is great, and very polite. Many ask what I’m writing next (it’s all right, I’m getting used to it), and many are coming to tomorrow’s event as well. People here like being read to, unlike literary festival crowds at home, and complain that I only read for 20 minutes. This is very flattering, though I think it’s just my accent…

Sunday, 3rd June. Sydney.

Last day of my tour! And today’s event is an afternoon tea, which I share with three other authors. We all have to read for 15 minutes. Don Winslow (a delightful and very funny crime writer) is upset right now, as books by a porn writer of the same name have been supplied to the festival by a helpful bookshop (and are listed among his own works). Don’s fans are buying them and bringing them to him to sign. He goes to some length to explain this mistake to the predominantly female, middle-aged festival audience. I can tell from the gleam in their eyes that they intend to go out and buy these books as soon as humanly possible…

I rush to pack as soon as the event is ended, then spend 2 hours going over my e-mails as I wait to be picked up to get the plane home. It has been a great tour, everyone has been wonderful, the books are selling very well (I’m number 3 in New Zealand and number 7 in Australia), but all I can think about right now is sleep. Thank you to everyone who made this such fun – and I promise, I’ll get back to writing books as soon as my brain is back to normal. Which could be in a month’s time, or six months, or maybe a year –

You never really know with books.

Joanne on Radio 4's Woman's Hour

If you missed Joanne on Radio 4 (9 May 2007) talking about The Lollipop Shoes, you can listen to the programme now via BBC website:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/womanshour/01/2007_19_wed.shtml

Daily Mail and Transworld First Novel Competition

I am a judge in competition being run by the Daily Mail and Transworld, who have joined forces to discover new writing talent. However, please don’t send me any manuscripts directly as I won’t be able to deal with them. If you want to enter the competition, you need to send your manuscript to:

Daily Mail First Novel Competition
Transworld Publishers
61-63 Uxbridge Road
LONDON
W5 5SA

The closing date for entries is 2nd July 2007.

For full details, please follow these links:
www.dailymail.co.uk/books
www.booksattransworld.co.uk

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