Monty, Rosie and Jeff-Dog are Susan’s Border Collies – they keep an eye on her artwork to make sure she keeps earning kibble, and they have woofs with her if she’s not busy writing her books the rest of the time; every now and then they round up all the news of both and post it to her blog…
Latest Blog Posts
My Greeting Card Universe store has quite a few different Father’s Day cards: click here for them – I don’t know why that link won’t work – here’s the link itself although it’s not very pretty: https://bit.ly/2U67fcA
Here are few pics of them, but there are more.
I never thought I’d be selling leggings from my Etsy store – but here we are! I don’t make them myself. I can no longer sell my own physical stock and had to shut my Etsy store. (Because COVID19.) I’ve now re-opened it using my own designs but the actual thing itself (in this case – leggings) has to be made and shipped by someone else.
Delivery times aren’t brilliant so I’ve said that on every listing so no one is disappointed by how long it is currently taking. (Thank you COVID19. Not!)
But it does mean I can sell loads of things I couldn’t if it was just my own physical stock.
Click here for pansy leggings!
I hope this finds you all feeling spring-like!
This month’s new book is, as promised, a full-colour picture book(let) for corgi lovers – this has been much requested from those who want lots of corgi pics in one place and it concentrates on that whole mother/pup relationship just in time for Mother’s Day or Mothering Sunday, which, in the UK is March 22, and in the US is May 10. There are two versions – one for ‘Corgi Mums’ and one for ‘Corgi Moms’.
Next month’s new book is a romantic comedy. I am working hard on this right now and dithering over what the title of it should be. It’s currently called: ‘Staking Out the Goat’, but it might not end up being called that.
It is set in the same world as my very first novel, ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ which (somehow) went on to become a bestseller. But you don’t need to have read the one in order to read the other. Although set in the same world (with Mooch the Pooch!), they are standalone novels.
I will leave you with one of the pages from the ‘My Corgi Mum/Mom is the Best Corgi Mum/Mom’ booklet – because it seems like a good message to end this letter with:
Wishing you fab times!
PS It’s always lovely to hear from you. If you want to drop me a line just reply on this email/newsletter or find me on Twitter or Facebook – icons below.
PPS Reviews are a real bonus for a writer and it’s difficult to survive without them. If you could leave a review on any of my books, it would be most welcome.
Due to unforeseen circumstances I’ve had to close my Etsy store at https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/susanalisonart .
This is temporary, but, at the moment, I cannot say when it’s likely to be open again.
Do check back with me here on my blog, and/or sign up for my newsletter (any page on my website) to find out what’s what with regard to new books and when my shop will be re-opening.
I am resurrecting my newsletter and sent out the first stirrings of it last night – one of the (fabulous) replies I received was from the wonderful artist Anna Vanover whose pic to the right represents her reading one of my novels (no – it does – really).
What a great pic! What a great thing she is doing with her page, too – RISE for Wildlife – raising dosh for wildlife rehabilitation – where, on donating, one of these limited edition prints becomes yours! This is an opportunity not to be missed!
I knew he waited for me out there. His patience was endless. He would stalk me until I was exhausted, until I lost my concentration; when the opportunity arrived for him to strike, he would leap out and I’d be mincemeat. I winced with the imagined pain his newly sharpened weapons would inflict.
I sensed him watching me. He was well camouflaged in the shadows. He could see me, but I couldn’t see him.
The air shimmered in the heat. My throat was dry and sore with thirst; my eyes had dried out from not blinking enough – they felt like hot pebbles in their sockets.
I mustn’t let my guard down or he’d have me.
Cautiously I edged forward through the undergrowth. Tough grasses twisted around my ankles, trying to ensnare my feet, trying to trip me and make me fall, as if they were on his side. Once down I wouldn’t stand a chance. I must keep my balance, keep moving forward, keep my head. I must not give way to terror. I’d be lost if I did.
Clouds of insects swarmed and buzzed around my face. They landed in my eyes and my mouth. They made my scalp itch, but I couldn’t scratch. It would make too much noise. Some of them, I was sure, flew up my nose and were now crawling around inside my lungs. I could hardly hold back the shrieks at the thought.
The smell of decay hung in the air making me want to retch.
Earlier, I’d heard him preparing his arsenal. The sounds of it had clattered through the air; they’d magnified in my head – rasping and sawing and silencing all the other creatures that lived here. Not a thing dared move or chance bringing itself to his attention.
Hardly breathing, moving statue-slowly, I lifted my foot and tried to put it down soundlessly. The air was so still, the quiet so heavy, that any movement seemed to resound around the clearing as if through amplifiers.
Luckily, I looked down first and found to my horror that I’d been about to step on a previous victim of his. The bones looked pathetic and fragile, dwarfed by their surroundings – a scene of unimaginable terror and death.
Just in time, I stopped myself screaming. I twisted away and, before losing all sense of balance, managed to plant my foot safely clear of the remains. But then I stood awkwardly, my back to him, asking for trouble. I felt exposed and weak and, despite the heat, suddenly cold with fear.
I could feel his eyes boring through me, and his breath, hot and fetid on my neck. I whipped around, only just managing not to yell out in terror. But it was my fearful imagination that had conjured him up so close – it was just a warm breeze, not his breath at all.
He wanted to pierce my skin, draw blood, shred the meat from my bones. I slapped vainly at the insects. Maybe they’d suck me dry before he could get me. That might be preferable.
I could hear a heavy body moving, the undergrowth seemed to shiver, the ground to shake as each deliberate footfall landed on its cracked surface, the very air stilled, no birds sang. I was conscious of my breath dying away, my heart galloping wildly in my chest. I could just make out his terrifying face through the undergrowth, mouth open, incisors glinting. Ready to tear me to pieces. His breath, reeking of previous kills, blasted over me, making me feel faint and sick. His eyes were the worst thing of all. They pierced through to my soul, weakening me, draining me of courage, almost hypnotising me into defeat. I couldn’t keep looking at him. I had to drop my gaze.
Dread shot through me and I knew I was in deep trouble. Maybe I could scream for someone to come and get me out of danger. But maybe my yells for aid would make him spring. I might shout and there’d be no-one there anyway, so I’d annoy him for nothing.
I didn’t want to annoy him. I wouldn’t shout. Just as soon as I decided, I knew he knew I’d given in. I was dead meat.
He snarled, the most bone-disintegrating, bloodcurdling noise I’d ever heard – and launched into his attack. I tried to run, but he was too fast and I was merely human. My flesh cringed but couldn’t get away from the pain that exploded through me as his fangs sank into my shin.
As I fell to the ground, I knew my mistake – I really should have mown the lawn more often. If only I had, then Tiddles wouldn’t be able to pretend he was a big, bad tiger in the long grass.
This post is to say that I’m starting up my newsletter again.
It’s about time!
I am hoping to send out a newsletter at least once a month to announce news of books – novels and artwork, large print, illustrated doggerel etc.
If you wish to sign up for my newsletter – and it would be fab if you did – please use box below.
We do not use your details for anything other than the newsletter, and you can unsubscribe whenever you want – although we hope you won’t want to.
I’m planning to make this a year full of new books!
Gonna hafta shut shop to get my writing done! This year has been one of those in particular that’s involved running like mad and never catching up… (An unsympathetic PupperJack says: Run faster, Hoomun!)
Click on the headline to visit my blogspot.