I turned fifty in June. Fifty! I’m pretty sure my younger self could barely imagine what that might be like, it being such a distant, far-off planet inhabited by women who looked like human walnuts with liver-spotted hands, folds of droopy skin and creaky knees.

It is, to my shame, six months since I last wrote a blog post. And that, my friends, is a symptom of a much bigger issue.

Ah, the summer of 1988. I had just turned 15, and lived in Cyprus. So for me that summer was mostly hanging out on the beach, water skiing and drinking Sprite out of glass bottles (other than when I was drinking vodka and lime, which was quite a lot of the time). There was some other stuff, mostly involving boys who turned out to not be Good People, but we’ll gloss over that in favour of my rose-tinted sunglasses.

Since Twitter seems to be making the final transition from towering inferno to smoking ruins, it seems like a good opportunity to write something on a platform that isn’t in the hands of a megalomaniac toddler. Just to share some thoughts, but also to provide some links to all the other places I write things.

Very excited to announce that my third novel, The Only Way Is Up, is now available to pre-order and will be out on 24th November. It’s the perfect read for Strictly season, even if I do say so myself.

It’s fourteen months since I wrote this blog, about binning off 30,000 words of a book that wasn’t working and starting again on something new. I also mentioned the inspiration for that new story, which was something random I read on Facebook about a hair straightener fire.

So last Saturday was the Eurovision Song Contest Grand Final, and next Thursday is the launch of my second book. Right now I feel like I’m in the quiet space in between, still coming down from the incredible high of Eurovision, but also trying to build up to my new book being out in the world. And, of course, doing my normal job, which is a whole other thing.

I can’t believe it’s nearly May again. Where does the year go? I guess everything slowed down in 2020 and 2021, and now things are getting back to full speed and the weeks are flying by again. Part of me is thrilled to be travelling and meeting people again, but another part of me misses having acres of time and nothing much to fill it.

Last night I went to London for the RNA Romantic Novel Awards 2022, where I won The Katie Fforde Debut Romantic Novel Award. It was both a huge surprise and a massive honour, and I lugged my very heavy glass trophy back to Wiltshire feeling pretty bloody proud of myself, actually.

I’m really excited to share the FABULOUS cover for my next novel, Never Gonna Happen. It’s a fun, escapist romcom that starts with a hair straightener fire in Stratford, and ends up on a beach in Mauritius. It’s out on 26th May in all formats, and I can’t WAIT* for you to read it.

OK, so I’m a couple of weeks late, but the road to blogging is paved with good intentions. 2022 is lining up to be an exciting writing year, so here’s what I’m looking forward to most.

One of the most common questions I’m asked as a new writer is ‘how do you find the time?’ And for a long time, I had no time. I worked full-time, had two children, a hellish commute, lots of work travel, liveblogging on the side. Also we were living in a building site and trying to stretch a really tight budget.

Am very excited to announce that my second novel has been launched today! Never Gonna Happen is out in all formats on 26th May 2022, and available to pre-order wherever you buy your books.

What’s not to love about Autumn? I always feel sad about the end of summer, but then unpack all my chunky knits and put the winter duvet on and am momentarily glad it’s here. At least until the dog needs a bath after every walk, anyway.

It’s September, which in my world signifies one thing…the beginning of Strictly Come Dancing. I’ve been liveblogging the show for The Guardian for over a decade, and for me it’s as much part of the framework of my year as Christmas and family birthdays.

I went to the Isle of Wight recently – a last-minute trip with family, but also an opportunity to have lunch with my literary agent Caroline, who I’ve only met once since she signed me over a year ago. She lives in the Isle of Wight when she’s not in London, and it was lovely to have a chat about what I’m currently writing, what I’m thinking about writing next, and what the future might hold.

Another month has rolled around, and suddenly 2021 is half over. How did that happen? It feels like only yesterday it was 1st January and I was charging up my laptop to start writing Book 3, and now my brain is refusing not to think about Book 4.

My debut novel is out in paperback today, which feels like kind of a big deal. A box of copies arrived from the publisher yesterday, which was very exciting.

June is easily my favourite month of the year. It probably always has been, now I think about it. As a child it signalled the upcoming summer holidays, and the long hours of daylight where ‘be home before dark’ didn’t mean anything, because it never seemed to get dark.

Tomorrow I’m getting the train to London, having previously left the west country for one day last September. That’s exciting enough, but I’m also staying in a hotel – the first time in history I’ve been able to get a room in central London for £56. Apart from that time I booked a cheap room in Shepherd’s Bush and it turned out to be a windowless basement, like sleeping in a crypt.