The tone of this article is entertainingly familiar:
It is as though there is this wondrous thing called "literary fiction" that is pure and untainted (however dreary), against which all massmarket fiction is set. When people ask me what sort of books I write, I reply that they are romantic comedies about self-deceiving women - women who fail to acknowledge the mess they're making of things - because that's precisely what they are.

Whoever wants to call them "chicklit" - which is no more than a marketing label - can do so, I really don't mind. Those who dismiss the genre wholesale fail to recognise that a lot of chick-lit is good. Many of the best are very well written.


Meanwhile, it seems that The Guardian will be launching a US edition.

Me, I've had a busy week. The most significant event was two very interesting days down in London receiving training from Tim Albert - interesting in that it made me really think about the structure and control of writing as much as it was teaching me Brand New Things.