This week’s wonderfully entertaining guest is C.L. Taylor – an award winning Sunday Times bestselling author of eight gripping psychological thrillers including SLEEP, a Richard and Judy Book Club pick for autumn 2019. She has also written two Young Adult thrillers. Her books have been translated into over 20 languages and have been number one in the Amazon, Kobo, Google Play, iBooks and Audible charts. [She’s also just been longlisted for the prestigious Dagger in the Library, but that wasn’t on her bio a few weeks ago – whoohoo!]
Take it away, Cally…
Have you ever been punched in the face?
No but I’ve given myself a few slaps for looking at my Goodreads reviews.
Have you ever broken a bone?
I’ve broken my little finger playing snaps and my baby toe by dropping a portable desk on it. In the ‘cool broken bones’ anthology my entry is in the bin.
What would you cook on Come Dine With Me?
Nachos with dips for starter, Welsh rarebit for main and Angel Delight for dessert. I am very basic, in many, many ways.
Do you pair your socks?
No. I chuck loads of single socks in my drawer and make my life even more hellish by spending every morning searching for a matching pair. Of course I pair my socks! What kind of fool doesn’t?
What’s your secret party piece?
I can whistle so loudly that people turn around to find out who that whistling knobhead is.
How many pairs of shoes do you have?
Let’s just say several Tesco delivery men have died tripping over the mountain of shoes in my hallway.
Where was your best holiday?
My best holiday is any holiday where I don’t come back hating the person I went with.
What’s your favourite joke?
I can only remember two jokes and one of them involves something brown and sticky so here’s the other one:
No You’re a Poo.
Have you ever had your fortune told?
I have! I attended a psychic fair because I was considering writing a romantic comedy about a psychic and my boyfriend at the time was quite open minded and agreed to come with me. My boyfriend went to get his aura photographed (no, he wasn’t doing it for research…) while I went to get my tarot read. Now, I’d been having a few doubts about this boyfriend for a while. They started on our first date when he got out of his chair at the bar and I had to lower my chin to look at him. I’m six foot and I’d stipulated on my dating profile that I only wanted to date men six foot or taller. When I queried my date about the fact he’d put six foot on his profile he said, ‘I rounded up.’ Interesting. If he was 5’11.5 that was forgivable but at 5’9” he was REALLY rounding up. Anyway, it wasn’t just his height that made me unsure about our future together and when the tarot reader asked me what I’d like to know about I asked her to tell me about the future of my relationship. I gave her no other information and kept my face expressionless as she read the cards. Half an hour later my then boyfriend turned up. ‘How was it?’ he asked, looking from me to the tarot reader. Neither of us could meet his eye. ‘Great,’ I said. One month later I did what the cards had confirmed and I dumped his ass.
Where’s the worst place you’ve been sick?
On a coach from Italy to Australia in snowy February. It was a three hour journey, I was sitting next to my five year old son and the heating was on full because the windscreen blowers weren’t working and it was the only way for the driver to see the road. I’m not a great traveller as it is but the combination of coach, heat and bumpy roads made my stomach lurch. The first time I was sick I managed to swallow it back (sorry if you’re eating as you read this) but the very act of swallowing my own sick meant my stomach then lurched violently. It was 6am and still dark. Most of the other people on the coach were asleep or sitting quietly. I didn’t have a sick bag, or any time to ask my partner, sitting behind me, if he had a suitable receptacle. So, as quietly as I could, I puked into my coat on my lap. Thirty seconds later my son, who’d been looking at his Ipad as I puked, sniffed the air. His wail of horror filled the silent coach, ‘Oh my god what’s that smell? Mum, were you just sick in your coat?’