My first e-book: A quick summer read for just 99p (or less!)

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00064]Please share!

If you’re looking for a light summer read, please think about downloading my first e-book. It’s a short (ish) story, and a super-quick, easy read. I’m raising a celebratory glass, as, believe me, I nearly went cross-eyed trying to figure out how to get this on Amazon. I got there in the end ☺ … here comes the blurb:

Workaholic mum Julie Wainscote becomes an overnight Twitter sensation when her live TV gaffe goes viral. Fired from her job, she takes up the challenge of becoming a stay-at-home mum to her son, Jacob. But when she realises the school run is a catwalk, the coffee mornings involve competitive catering and the class bear has been to Lapland, she has to admit the adjustment required may be beyond her.

Does she have what it takes to join Dubai’s ranks of immaculately groomed school mothers?

Cupcakes & Heels is a delightfully funny short story about the dilemmas facing mothers the world over.

BUY IT NOW: If you’re in the UK, please click here

Or for America, the UAE and worldwide, please go to this US Amazon link. If this doesn’t work in your country, could I suggest searching for Cupcakes & Heels in your country’s Amazon store.

Thank you so much!

Magazines: Do you still read them?

There must have been about 40 people huddled around the glow of the video conference screen – I was head-down at my desk, a little buried with a busy workload due to two magazines going to press. But I got caught up in the razzmatazz from London about our company’s restructuring. The words on everyone’s lips, Have we been sold?

No, we hadn’t. Far from it, things were going to be digital-tastic. The digital future was bright – so bright, they played the video presentation again, in case we’d missed anything the first time about our journey to Planet Digital.

For anyone still not sure, there was also an article on the Guardian website, in which the chief exec spelt out that, over the next 12 to 18 months, all of our titles would become digital only.

I looked down at the proofs on my desk with an unblinking gaze. A pile of magazine supplements stared back at me from my in-tray. I swallowed hard. I’m adaptable, I told myself. I already do some work on the company’s digital side. I run a blog, I thought! A Circles in the Sand Facebook page. I even occasionally Tweet. I can do digital (right?)

Except I kind of like our print editions.

Without giving away the name of the company I work for, it’s been going for a long time. In fact, it wouldn’t be over-egging it to say it’s been a publishing institution for more than 70 years.

xxxxxx

Surely print can’t be dead until you can safely take hundreds of pounds of electronics into the bath?

I took my first job with them 20 years ago, worked on and off for various titles for years, then, by chance, got hired by the Dubai office here. For a girl who loves magazines so much, I even took a post-grad diploma in them, it’s been the only thing I’ve ever really wanted to do – other than write books, but that’s a whole new kettle of fish.

I sort-of knew this was coming. Across the company’s portfolio, 67 per cent of revenues are from digital and events. Digital subscriptions are apparently the format customers want to engage with. Newsweek went ‘digital only’ after 79 years in print in early 2013, and commentators say almost all magazines will eventually go purely electronic. The message for publishing is clear – paper products have had their day.

Or have they? Aren’t there still people out there who’d prefer to read printed words rather than look at a screen? Aren’t there tonnes of avid readers, like me, who love magazines and book stores? Buying a magazine with a beautiful cover feels like treating myself to a present, every time – is that really so old fashioned?

I decided to ask around at work. Holding my pile of proofs, I rubbed the tips of my fingers against the edge of the pages, and asked one of the young, whippersnapper journalists: “But what about reading magazines on the loo?”

He looked at me, bemused, as though seeing me for the first time. “You can read your iPad on the loo, you know.”

“The bath, then?” I ventured. I hate taking my iPad into the bath as it really doesn’t enjoy getting wet.

“And how about the psychological satisfaction of not only starting to read a magazine, but finishing it? Of putting it down knowing you’ve got through it, without hundreds of seductive hyperlinks that take you down the internet garden path.”

Of course, when I got home and asked my children which format they preferred, the answer was a no-brainer for them. “The iPad,” chorused my screenagers. Their eyes went round and they crinkled their noses at my suggestion they could read more books.

So how about you? How do you read magazines? Are they still relevant in an age of free online content, social media and 24/7 news – or has print been trumped?

Postscript: So a little later, I find myself troubleshooting the boys’ X-box – a chore that always makes me feel like someone’s jumping on my chest. Once fixed, Raptor asks me to turn the volume up. “It’s the button on the side, Mummy!” He waggles his eyebrows. His confidence in my digital future is etched all over his face. “… It says V on it.” Oh the faith…!

Three more days to go!

While I often feel rather daunted by the 10-week-long school break stretching out ahead of us like an uncrossable chasm, I cannot wait to finish work in three days’ time.

It can feel like a double life. I work in a busy news environment, where, sometimes, my contrasting personas come together with a thunderous clash.

I’ll be head down at my desk, writing a headline for a piece on the insurgency in Iraq, when my phone pings and it’s my other life calling.

“Hi, sorry to bother,” texts my lovely car-pool friend, “but M’s lost his first tooth, I think at your house. Can you look out for it?”

“Sure,” I reply, and fire off a text to our nanny to keep an eye out for a tiny milk tooth, the size of a matchstick head.

“Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty more lost teeth,” I text my friend, who I realise after a couple more messages is upset she can’t put the tooth in a silver keepsakes box. “No need to go through his poo.”

Last week of school/work, and I need cocktail sticks to keep my eyes open

Last week of school/work, and I need cocktail sticks to keep my eyes open

I get back to work. There’s a story on Iran I need to read, and our deadline for getting the magazine to press is looming in three hours’ time.

Then an email pops up, entitled ‘Grade 2’s Got Talent’. It’s Son1’s teacher, giving us more detail about the talent show his class is putting on, and I’m reminded that my (shy) son has to perform some kind of all-singing, all-dancing routine in front of everyone.

But before that social hurdle, we really do have to finish this week’s issue, so I stop Googling ‘easy talent show routines’, and lose myself in a commentary on the jihadist forces from the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria – until another text comes through.

It’s DH. He’s at a climbing party, with Son2, who is struggling. Sometimes I feel so bad that I’m not ‘there’ for all these moments – and the kids are growing up so fast – that it’s as though a chute has opened up in my stomach and my heart is plunging through it.

So, as I said, I’m SO ready to finish work. It’s now just a small matter of getting another magazine to press in the next three days; ducking out for the talent show; organising sausage rolls for the end-of-term party, holding the fort while DH is away; and (keep breathing, Circles!) getting Son2 to a Chuck-e-Cheese party.

Then, finally, it’ s time for a break from the office, the traffic jams and the logistics. The 65-day vacation – let’s call it Operation LongVac (for we all know what it really entails) – is in sight!