Upon a star

Upon a Star Up on Wily Writers. (Yay!)

Apologies for a longer than intended break from the blogging; life has been chaotic of late. This hectic working mum thing is even more hectic than I realised. I can’t believe so many women (and men) have been doing it for years and make it look like a thing people can do with a smile on their faces rather than resembling slacked-jawed zombies with a child’s toothpaste and random breakfast foods mushed in their hair or on their clothing*.

After an expected series of multiple trips to the after hours emergency room and X-ray unit, we found out our wee chap has a fractured ankle. He is in a cast and has to stay in until next Thursday (a total of three and a half weeks). He has coped remarkably well with the ordeal and seems rather unfazed by the injury. The X-ray was more upsetting for him than anything and he is incredibly fast on his cast. His convalescence has been of a less restful nature than I’d hoped. He can dash around the house, jump, climb, bounce and pretty much do every kind movement you’d be worried about someone with their fractured ankle in a cast attempting.

I have visions of Dom in a sling, eye-patch and hobbling on the other leg before the end of term. I suppose it would land an air of authenticity to a costume if he wanted to dress up as a pirate or Lord Nelson.

However, on a super-happy, mega-cheerful note, my story Upon a star is up now on the excellent Wily Writers website. It’s performed by Philip Pickard, who does a brilliant job with the story. Definitely puts the ‘talent’ in voice talent (as well as the ‘voice’ because, as I understand it, unvoiced talent is a tad difficult to listen to in podcasts).

The story is a noir detective take on fairy tales, with some of the characters from A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream. It is about 22 minutes long, an excellent length for listening to on walks or bus/train rides or drives.

* A symptom of the bleary-eyed zombie-vision is that squashed banana in hair or slimy mystery substances on sleeve will only be noticed in the bathroom mirror at work, never before you leave home.