Three of Cups.
No, not coffee. (But not *not* coffee.)
These weekend posts, a glimpse behind the scenes as I write a new novel or three, are for paid subscribers. If you are a paid subscriber - thank you! I appreciate it. If not, I would love it if you would consider upgrading. It costs just over £1 a week (less if you go for an annual subscription!)
If you would like a paid sub but can’t afford one right now, email me and I’ll sort you out.
No diary again because I haven’t written anything. I’ve been researching and reading and making connections and getting overexcited.
A while ago, someone on Twitter was doing tarot readings and mine was the 3 of Cups. I know next to nothing about tarot, but everything she said made me happy and also cry. I made a mental note to find out more about the 3 of Cups, made a playlist (inevitably), went on with my life.
I can’t remember why, but last week I was thinking about it again - maybe I read something on Substack about tarot for writers? Can’t remember. Anyway, I was idly pondering 3 of Cups and my book and the girl band I want Aunty Bea to have been a part of and how maybe Sam’s mum was also in the band… and, as I said in my post earlier this week, this photo popped into my head.
And then it was my birthday and my oldest friend - his dad and my dad were best friends - sent me this card.
Huh.
(My boys were with me when I opened it and asked why I was so excited about it. I explained and they said “That’s nothing.” No surprise since they don’t even believe in the magic of foxes1.)
I was also being pummelled by All Fours by Miranda July and then I read this:
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Happy Endings to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.