The first Tuesday in the month I go to lunch with a group of writers in a pub just outside Oxford. We all belong to the Romantic Novelists Association, a brilliant organisation whether you are published or not. People get the idea that writers are at each others throats, not so members of the RNA; you could not find a more supportive and helpful group of people. And I find I need to go since it is important to me to keep in touch with other authors, for we understand each other better than most. We talk about books, writing in general, what we are writing, the problems authors have but also the joys. Writing, you see, is an obsessive occupation, and one needs ones fix! While there, Debbie, another writer, told me she'd visited my blog but that I'd got to loosen up, that it didn't sound a bit like me. I wasn't surprised, and I told her, I was afraid of it. But perhaps I'll get used to it - I hope so. But then I got to thinking what does sound like me? I've no idea, for after all you never hear yourself, do you? Hey ho, will try to do better.