My husband is a stonemason and chimney engineer. Occupations that are as far away from being a writer as you can possibly get. We’re proud of each other’s accomplishments, but I’ve just found out that John isn’t always as honest about what I actually spend my time doing as he may be. Here’s what he claims to have told a recent customer.

Him: Then she asked me what you write.

Me: What did you tell her?

Him: Those wee poems inside greetings cards.

Me: Why did you say that?

Him: I made it up. I often do. The last time I was asked I said you write obituaries.

Me: I can’t believe this.

Him: I think I’ll say you do articles for a naturist magazine next time.

I still don't know if he was joking, but just in case he wasn't, I really have to get The Novel published. Soon.

A comedian recently did a skit about Radio 4’s Thought for the Day (on The Now Show, I think). It starts off interesting, he said, but then the speaker always has to spoil things by bringing God in, creating connections between any given subject and religion. I’m about to do the same thing, banging on about writing, though, not religion.

Writing – especially of a novel – is often compared with going on a journey. It can involve taking wrong turnings, running out of fuel, realising you’ve forgotten your handbag and having to go back home and find it sitting on the hall table. You know the sort of thing and I’m sure you can come up with your own. But now I’m going to take the analogy further. Sorry.

I’ve always been jealous of my husband’s driving abilities. While I’m too feart (not a typo but another fine Scots word) even to tackle motorways, he can drive anything anywhere. Buses in Edinburgh, vans down the M1, left-hand-drive automatics in Montana – he just climbs in and off he goes. When I was recently bemoaning my own lack of adaptability in this respect he countered with, ‘But you can write anything’. And while ‘anything’ is too great a claim, on reflection I realised he has a point.

So I made a list of the different forms I write in (yours is possibly even longer):

*The Novel – top of the list because my ultimate ambition is to be a published novelist.

*Short stories – winning or getting placed in a prestigious competition would be a great addition to my writing CV. Also, some ideas suit a shorter treatment.

*Website and blog – I’ve started to ‘build my platform’ before being published, and it's a great way to meet folk out there when I’m stuck in here. Also useful to enforce a regular writing habit.

*Twitter – who’d have thought it so hard to express even the simplest thought in 140 characters (inc. spaces)? 

*Competitions – often requiring similar discipline in streamlining one’s words as demanded by Twitter. The prizes can range from a single book to tickets for a literary festival (I went to the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival for free last year by writing just 50 words).

*Business – to keep solvent I provide copywriting and other business services to paying clients. This in turn subdivides into writing print copy and writing for the internet.

*Study – I’m in the penultimate year of studying for an Open University degree. Film and TV History isn’t as frivolous as it sounds, and requires formally written essays at regular intervals. And an exam.

AL Kennedy** describes herself on Twitter as 'general wordperson', reflecting the range of her work. She's not tied down to one form of writing. I like the description and the philosophy behind it.

**And if you follow the link to her website be sure to visit the FAQ page. Hilarious!

Not a lot of blogging, or any sort of creative writing going on here at present. The reason? I’ve got a paid job, organising a community event that’s to take place on March 5^th. I’ve been issuing invitations, booking the venue, writing press releases, recruiting guest speakers – nothing onerous, but gosh how this temporary foray back into the business world has made me appreciate my writing life.

I realise that once you become a published writer, fiction writing is no longer a solo effort but the writer becomes a member of a team, involving her agent, editor, publisher and all sorts of other folk. At the moment, though, writing and editing my novel is down to just one person: me. There’s no chasing replies to emails and phone messages, no communication breakdowns, no relying on others to do their bit before I can do mine.

This morning I took the decision that unless someone called me, I would suspend my event organisation for a few hours to get back to editing Chapter 36. I didn’t even go to the gym, so after walking the dogs I was at my computer for 8.30 and haven’t stopped til now. It felt fantastic, and I actually believe that the break has done me – and my writing – a lot of good. Better still, it's reminded me why I write.

An article on the front page of my local newspaper, The Berwickshire News, this week tells the story of a car which was taken to a garage because it wasn’t going well. The mechanic opened the bonnet and discovered hundreds of peanuts crammed inside. The headline reads:

Squirrel hides 6lbs of nuts . . . then bolts

The dictionary definition of the word pun is ‘the use of words or phrases to exploit ambiguities and innuendo in meaning, usually for humorous effect’. It’s a time-honoured writing technique that goes back to Shakespeare and many before him. Yet puns are more often met with groans than laughs. Was that your reaction to the headline I’ve quoted? Why do we react to puns like that?

Being a lover of words, I’m a great admirer of puns and word play. Although I rarely use them in my fiction writing, when I’m writing for business clients, especially in press releases, I like to use puns to grab the attention of an editor, to help ensure publication, as well as readers. I was especially proud of one I coined when announcing that a local ice-cream maker had won two awards for his produce: ‘Peter’s double scoop of awards’. The paper did publish the piece, but replaced my headline with their own.

Wikipedia has an interesting exploration of the nature and history of puns, and led me to the Puncut website which celebrates what it describes as 'the highest form of wit'. There's even a section of Scottish puns.  Read ‘em and weep!

We recently watched again the Doctor Who episode The Unicorn and the Wasp. Starring earlier incarnation of the Doctor, David Tennant, this is the one where he and companion Donna join an English country-house party in 1926 and meet Agatha Christie. It comes up with an ingenious solution to the mystery of Christie’s real-life disappearance and subsequent unveiling in a Harrogate hotel.

Enjoyable on many levels, the programme poked gentle fun at some of the conventions of Christie’s work:  big house with library, sanctimonious vicar, gruff retired colonel, creepy butler. It also referenced a huge number of her titles, including Sparkling Cyanide, N or M, Why Didn’t They Ask Evans? (particularly well accomplished) and Nemesis. I lost count at around a dozen. But the added pleasure that spotting them gave me set me thinking about allusions, which my dictionary defines as ‘a passing reference, oblique or obscure mention’.

Allusions are all around us. For example, a TV advert (I can’t recall what for) featured someone running through the jungle being pursued by a huge round boulder. No need to tell the audience (or, at least, those the advertiser is trying to sell to) that this is a reference to the first Indiana Jones movie.

Did you recognise the title of this post? It’s a quotation from Jaws. When it dawns on him how large the shark is that they’re going to hunt down and kill, one of the characters says, ‘You’re gonna need a bigger boat’. Only last week I watched an episode of Two and a Half Men, the Charlie Sheen comedy (see picture above), where the main character discovers his nephew trying to snorkel in the kitchen and says, ‘We’re gonna need a bigger sink’. It’s mildly funny on its own, but even better for those of us who spotted the allusion. And it flatters us, tells us we’re a wee bit cleverer than those who simply took the words at face value.

It’s impossible to avoid allusions when we write. The English language is packed full of them, and on top of that many writers strive to create their own, as a way of demonstrating their erudition (admit it!) but also to bring the reader on-side, making them feel that what they’re reading has been written with them in mind.

Have I included allusions in No Stranger to Death? Of course. It wasn’t deliberate at first. I had one of two brothers describe my main character’s dog as ‘funny-looking’, an expression often used in this house because it comes from a memorable scene in the Coen Brothers’ wonderful Fargo. Then I realised this would be an effective way of demonstrating how close the brothers are, by having them continually reference the movies they love, often to the bemusement of everyone else in the room.

I’ve avoided having one of them say ‘I’ll be back’. I don’t have to tell you where that comes from. But what about ‘I have moments’* and ‘You should see me bake a cake’**? Are you annoyed if you don’t know the answer? Probably, and that’s where allusions can backfire. They’re easily passed over, unrecognised, or, worse, they can alienate the reader by suggesting he or she isn’t clever enough to be reading the work that contains them.

*Assault on Precinct 13

**Cliffhanger