This is the BBC. . .

I went to BBC Cambridge for 1 o'clock as arranged, feeling dreadful. I had been offered a taxi, but chose to cycle, arriving flecked with mud (I must get a rear mudguard!). I announced my arrival to the receptionist and whilst I wasn't expecting paparazzi exactly, I was a little taken aback to be ushered unceremoniously by her into a small, deserted cell-like room. I felt like a sperm donor. Or how I imagine a sperm donor to feel. In terms of the awkwardness and grottiness, not the - this metaphor isn't working really. I asked the receptionist if there was any chance of a glass of water and she seemed to look at me as if I was Mariah Carey asking for a basket of puppies.

I was told to put on a pair of headphones and wait until lights lit up on the rather 1950s-looking console. Actually 'console' is overstating it somewhat. It looked a bit like the control panel on an old guitar amp. It all felt a little like The Lives of Others. Sitting there in that room with my headphones on, I caught a whiff of what it must have been like to be in the Stasi - except I was listening to the Scottish news rather than eavesdropping. The receptionist brought my water and I sat and waited.

Suddenly there was a voice in my ears and I tried very hard not to do a BBC voice as I spoke into a massive microphone of the kind that Churchill or Attlee is usually sitting behind in old newsreels. It was dented as though a visiting author had headbutted it in some kind of existential rage.

The voice was the engineer checking I was there. He, like everyone except me, was in Edinburgh. Edinburgh sounded fun. I began to wish I was in Edinburgh with the other guests and not in my isolation chamber here in Cambridge. Then Bronwen Tulloch, the producer of The Book Cafe, came on the line. I had spoken to her already and she was great. How amazing to be both coolly efficient and warm. She was a very reassuring presence throughout. And Chris Kane who presented the programme was very good at including me in the conversation - and making me sound as though I was actually there with the other guests.

I always feel like I am going to develop a career-ending bout of Tourettes and say something wildly and loudly inappropriate. I didn't though.

I spoke a little about scary books and read a short - very short - extract from Tales of Terror from the Tunnel's Mouth. We had a bit of a discussion about horror and children's appetite for it, why I write creepy stories and whether it is good or bad for children. I stayed around for a quick discussion about Twitter and the various novelty ways it has impacted on the world of literature. I might go into more detail of who they were and what we actually talked about tomorrow.

Then it was all over. The headphones went back on the table, I said goodbye to the receptionist and with her reply she gave me a look that was probably only total disinterest but felt like something between pity and disgust, and then I was back on my bike cycling home against a fierce headwind.

Exhausting.

Low battery

I felt dreadful today. My battery needs recharging. I seem to have no energy at all. I have been like this for some time now. My hand still hurts like someone stamped on it. I am perpetually exhausted but can't sleep. I missed my son playing football for the second time this season because I felt too rotten to drive him. It doesn't feel right simply hearing that they lost. I should have to see it for myself.

I spent some of the morning thinking about my radio appearance tomorrow. I am going to the BBC studio here in Cambridge to take part in a discussion on BBC Radio Scotland's Book Cafe. We are talking about scary books for children as well as Twitter and its relevance (or not) for writing.

Funnily enough I have been helping my son with his homework. Part of the brief is to imagine that you are the author of a book and be quizzed about how and why you wrote it. He has chosen Tom's Midnight Garden as his book. I actually learned a few things about Philippa Pearce that I didn't know as I tested him on his knowledge.

It fascinates me how much analysis expected of 12 year-olds these days. It does not seem to be enough to read or even understand a book anymore; the children have to tease out themes and even find fault. They are expected to be critics.

Do I like graphic novels?

I had a very exciting email from Sarah Odedina at Bloomsbury asking what I made of graphic novels and whether I liked them or had ever done one?

To which I replied along the lines of I only like them in as much as I love them. Or good ones anyway.

This may be one of the many things in my life that appear to dazzle like a new star only to go phut at some later date, but I am excited about the mere prospect of having a conversation about the vague possibility of doing something remotely in the area of a graphic novel. You heard - or perhaps caught a vague whiff of - it here first.

More - or possibly nothing - about this at a later date. . .

Done

I went through the proofs of The Dead of Winter with Talya Baker at Bloomsbury. We went through the book page by page and flagged up the various issues we had found. These were either resolved immediately or I put them aside and got back to her later. Talya added to my reading out loud tip by suggesting that you place something under the line you are reading to isolate it and stop the eye from wandering. Good idea, I think. I'll be doing that next time.

This is always such a massive stage in the life of a book. This is the very last time that anything can be done. Well - until the paperback tweaks. But essentially this is the book as it is going to be read by the punters who buy it. Bestseller or landfiller, it's done.

Next please. . .

Reading aloud

Today I am having a last run through the proofs of The Dead of Winter. I am reading the book out loud like a madman in my office. I have said - many times - that this is the only way I know to catch those stupid clanging errors or ugly phrases that make you want to pull your own head off and do keepy-uppies with it when you come to read it out loud on publication.

And I don't just read it like a speak-your-weight machine. That wouldn't work. I try to read it well, with all the intended drama and force. I feel I have to do this because, if I can't read it to sound as I would want it to sound, then I probably haven't written it like that either.

I would recommend this method for another reason. I think that when you read your work out loud it can surprise you. I find sad scenes that I have written difficult to read, for example. I know what's coming and yet I still get that flutter and catch in my voice.

An Education

My wife and I went to see An Education this afternoon at the Picturehouse cinema here in Cambridge. We hardly ever go to the cinema it seems and here we are again. It's only a week since we came to see Fantastic Mr Fox with my son.

An Education was a lovely film with a fantastic performance by Carey Mulligan in the lead role. But everyone was good. Even Emma Thompson's cameo as the headmistress was spot on.

Having said all that, it wasn't an especially cinematic experience. I don't mean that there were no car chases or whatever. I mean that British movies often look like television, don't they. In fact maybe they always look like television. Or at least they have for many years.

I'm not really sure why this is or even whether it matters. I enjoyed An Education a lot and I'm not criticising that film at all really. But it would be nice to see a British movie where you knew - really knew - that you were at the movies.

What about me????

The Carnegie and Kate Greenaway longlists are out. Good to see Mary Hoffman and Philip Reeve on the Carnegie longlist. And Kevin Crossly-Holland. But there seems to have been some sort of mistake because - sob - I don't appear at all.

Chris Riddell is nominated twice for the Kate Greenaway - once for his work for Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book and the other for Don Quixote, another of his Walker Books spectaculars. Chris has already won the award twice - in 2001 and 2004.

Give someone else a go!!

David Roberts, who has done such brilliant job illustrating my books has been nominated for Julia Donaldson's The Troll and Paul Fleischman's Dunderheads. Dave McKean is nominated as is my old illustration tutor Tony Ross. Good luck to them all.

Pleased as I am for David Roberts, it would have been nice for him to have been nominated for his work on my book - not just because I think it is some of his best work, but because, selfishly, it would mean more exposure for me.

Me, me, me, me, me.