Today I lugged the latest print out of the novel to the nearest coffee pouring establishment to sit and read it in peace and quiet. Sadly the only place open was Sainsbury’s, so I sat in their franchise of Starbucks reading amongst screaming cupcake fuelled children. It wasn’t quite the scenario I had pictured when doing the final read-through, but that has been the way ever since I decided to write this book. Everything I thought I would do – write with a smile on my face every single day, actually have a desk, open champagne on finishing – hasn’t actually happened yet. Okay, let’s list it.
Preconception: All authors write from a book-lined room in peace and quiet.
Reality: I write between bursts of my mum telling me the plot of Midsummer Murders, including the repeats.
Preconception: All authors write every day.
Reality: Try it after a three hour commute sandwiching an eight hour day in the office. Some evenings I can only write the word ‘ug’.
Preconception: All authors have their own desk.
Reality: I think I told you before I use the ‘Twisted Author’ pose in which to sit on my bed and tap on the computer which rests upon a chest of drawers. This is as comfy as indigestion.
Preconception: All authors have a local homely café in which to edit their novels and think Great Thoughts.
Reality: The local cafés around my gaff smell of fried egg sarnies and attract people of a certain disposition, i.e. mad.
Preconception: All authors will write with an occasional wine glass close to hand, if they fancy it.
Reality: Vodka. Lots of. If I fancy it.
Preconception: All authors will own a printer that works.
Reality: My printer only works if I stare at it.
Preconception: It won’t take that long to write a novel.
Reality: Har har har har.
Preconception: Every day authors are really happy and eager to start writing.
Reality: Some days I cry.
Preconception: All authors are brilliant at Scrabble.
Reality: Faced with the board, the only word I can ever spell is ‘suds’.
Monday, 30 August 2010
Monday, 23 August 2010
Pocket Money
A letter came from the bank the other week addressed to my dad, which was a bit odd considering he died over twenty years ago. It is such a weird feeling to see his name on an envelope – even the pattern his name made on a page – official proof that he was a person, that he mattered enough in this life to have correspondence, that he was once here on this planet. When a person dies, after the dust settles and the years creep on, these small things become so big because it feels that the person only lived in family folklore.
The letter was because the bank had found another account belonging to my dad, so they wanted my mum to mosey along and officially close it. We were all a bit flummoxed – how come now, so long afterwards, had this account come to light? I was torn between being cross at the bank for not being thorough at the time and pleased at seeing my dad’s name. Perhaps my dad had kept secret savings for a rainy day – perhaps it would be a little windfall for all of us. We had to find the certificates that sum up a person’s life – two small squares of paper – birth and death. No clue as to what the years in-between had covered apart from here stand I. Do I answer the sum? Does my brother? It’s hard to know, isn’t it?
It turns out the grand total was £6. We laughed and shook our heads, but later I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It seems a very long time ago now that people would think of starting a bank account with five pounds. It made me think just how long he has been gone.
My mum shared the money between me and my brother. I took the coins and felt like I could never spend them. It might not quite be pennies from heaven but I do feel like dad has given me the last of my pocket money. I promise not to spend it all on sweets.
The letter was because the bank had found another account belonging to my dad, so they wanted my mum to mosey along and officially close it. We were all a bit flummoxed – how come now, so long afterwards, had this account come to light? I was torn between being cross at the bank for not being thorough at the time and pleased at seeing my dad’s name. Perhaps my dad had kept secret savings for a rainy day – perhaps it would be a little windfall for all of us. We had to find the certificates that sum up a person’s life – two small squares of paper – birth and death. No clue as to what the years in-between had covered apart from here stand I. Do I answer the sum? Does my brother? It’s hard to know, isn’t it?
It turns out the grand total was £6. We laughed and shook our heads, but later I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It seems a very long time ago now that people would think of starting a bank account with five pounds. It made me think just how long he has been gone.
My mum shared the money between me and my brother. I took the coins and felt like I could never spend them. It might not quite be pennies from heaven but I do feel like dad has given me the last of my pocket money. I promise not to spend it all on sweets.
Sunday, 22 August 2010
Book worm reviews: July 2010
Oh life, you busy thing you. Awfully sorry for the prolonged absence – the longest time I have been away from my blog in three years. I was starting to dream of topics for posts and getting awfully sad on waking that there was no time to fling them into the world. Yup, am desperately searching for that mythical work/life balance again! One day, one day *she vows, misty-eyed*
But until that day – book reviews! I have been clocking up books at an alarming rate – it seems the less writing I do the more voraciously I read. So coming up over the remains of August are the following:
The Long Walk, by Richard Bachman (also known as Stephen King)
Absent in the Spring, by Mary Westmacott (also known as Agatha Christie)
Inside the Whale, by Jennie Rooney
The Borrowers Afield, by Mary Norton
The Inimitable Jeeves, by P.G. Wodehouse
The Bottle Factory Outing, by Beryl Bainbridge
Break in the Sun, by Bernard Ashley
Appointment with Death, by Agatha Christie
The Children of Dynmouth, by William Trevor
The Running Man, by Richard Bachman (also known as Stephen King)
More of Milly-Molly-Mandy, by Joyce Lancaster Brisley
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, by Mark Haddon
Blaze, by Richard Bachman (also known as Stephen King)
Onto the Reviews!
Inside the Whale, by Jennie Rooney
Published by Chatto & Windus 2008
The title of this book neatly sets up the idea that this might be a story told in retrospect – as once you are inside the whale, then the worst has happened already and you are just waiting to see how you will be spat out the other end. At least that was how I matched the title to the book, and it did seem to suit the plot. Michael is an old man in hospital, and Stevie is an elderly lady living with her daughter. They are at the end of their life and yet the beginning won’t leave them alone, echoing in their thoughts and regrets, about how once they were almost together and then were spun off in different directions during the Second World War.
This is Jennie Rooney’s debut novel, and there are no huge dramatics in this gentle tale; it is a believable story of ordinary lives touched by coincidence. Her tone of voice throughout speaks with an understated humour, and her descriptions are very vivid. She writes short tight chapters taking turns with each character’s point of view, and in a way this is a love story, but not quite the love you may imagine. Poignant and bittersweet – this is a very well written debut, and I would be very interested to read what this author comes up with next.
The Long Walk, by Richard Bachman (also known as Stephen King)
First published by Signet, 1979
This edition published by Penguin, 1999
The books written under Stephen King’s nom-de-plume have a harder edge than his usual style. They are bitter about society, and often envision a totalitarian future run on extreme parallels in a brutal setting. Their endings generally have no comfort or feel slightly under-done. Having said that, I still love them, of course – as they have all of Stephen King’s brilliance and ability to make you see things you’d rather not – his writing turns over the rocks and reveal the heebie jeebies that lurk in the mud.
In this book The Long Walk is an annual walking contest for teenage boys. Feted by TV cameras and followed by huge crowds, everyone manages to skirt the reality of the walk which is that anyone who falls below a certain speed gets executed. As the walk continues and the numbers of participants fall, the psychological challenges supersede the physical, and the sense of futility grows for a society that accepts such a contest as ‘sport’.
Absent in the Spring, by Mary Westmacott (also known as Agatha Christie)
First published by Wm Collins Sons & Co, 1944
This edition published by Fontana Books, 1974
The Mary Westmacott novels are usually passed off lightly as Agatha Christie’s foray into romance, although affairs of the heart can be just as twisted and tangled as her who-dunnits, just as laden with all the heavy emotion love can bring. In a way these stories are Agatha Christie’s ‘chick-lit’ novels - more introspective, less of a cast of players, but yet still with that same economy of writing, those brilliant descriptions, and believable characters.
Absent in the Spring looks at the life of self-satisfied Joan Scudamore, so smug with her marriage and her children, her home and her friends. She is travelling back to Britain from staying with her daughter and the journey is derailed on the borders of Arabia. Stranded in the dessert, Joan has all the time in the world to contemplate her life, and the bright light of the sun slowly dissipates the shadows until all is revealed.
I really enjoyed this, much more than I thought I would. Afterwards I wonder why I didn’t seek these books out before – possibly the front cover of this one put me off – no disrespect to the actors, but this book would work better with an illustrated cover, and more to do with the emotional whirl in the dessert. But if you like Agatha Christie books anyway then these are a real find – such a treat to find an author you like stretching her writing wings in a different genre.
But until that day – book reviews! I have been clocking up books at an alarming rate – it seems the less writing I do the more voraciously I read. So coming up over the remains of August are the following:
The Long Walk, by Richard Bachman (also known as Stephen King)
Absent in the Spring, by Mary Westmacott (also known as Agatha Christie)
Inside the Whale, by Jennie Rooney
The Borrowers Afield, by Mary Norton
The Inimitable Jeeves, by P.G. Wodehouse
The Bottle Factory Outing, by Beryl Bainbridge
Break in the Sun, by Bernard Ashley
Appointment with Death, by Agatha Christie
The Children of Dynmouth, by William Trevor
The Running Man, by Richard Bachman (also known as Stephen King)
More of Milly-Molly-Mandy, by Joyce Lancaster Brisley
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, by Mark Haddon
Blaze, by Richard Bachman (also known as Stephen King)
Onto the Reviews!
Inside the Whale, by Jennie RooneyPublished by Chatto & Windus 2008
The title of this book neatly sets up the idea that this might be a story told in retrospect – as once you are inside the whale, then the worst has happened already and you are just waiting to see how you will be spat out the other end. At least that was how I matched the title to the book, and it did seem to suit the plot. Michael is an old man in hospital, and Stevie is an elderly lady living with her daughter. They are at the end of their life and yet the beginning won’t leave them alone, echoing in their thoughts and regrets, about how once they were almost together and then were spun off in different directions during the Second World War.
This is Jennie Rooney’s debut novel, and there are no huge dramatics in this gentle tale; it is a believable story of ordinary lives touched by coincidence. Her tone of voice throughout speaks with an understated humour, and her descriptions are very vivid. She writes short tight chapters taking turns with each character’s point of view, and in a way this is a love story, but not quite the love you may imagine. Poignant and bittersweet – this is a very well written debut, and I would be very interested to read what this author comes up with next.
The Long Walk, by Richard Bachman (also known as Stephen King)First published by Signet, 1979
This edition published by Penguin, 1999
The books written under Stephen King’s nom-de-plume have a harder edge than his usual style. They are bitter about society, and often envision a totalitarian future run on extreme parallels in a brutal setting. Their endings generally have no comfort or feel slightly under-done. Having said that, I still love them, of course – as they have all of Stephen King’s brilliance and ability to make you see things you’d rather not – his writing turns over the rocks and reveal the heebie jeebies that lurk in the mud.
In this book The Long Walk is an annual walking contest for teenage boys. Feted by TV cameras and followed by huge crowds, everyone manages to skirt the reality of the walk which is that anyone who falls below a certain speed gets executed. As the walk continues and the numbers of participants fall, the psychological challenges supersede the physical, and the sense of futility grows for a society that accepts such a contest as ‘sport’.
Absent in the Spring, by Mary Westmacott (also known as Agatha Christie)First published by Wm Collins Sons & Co, 1944
This edition published by Fontana Books, 1974
The Mary Westmacott novels are usually passed off lightly as Agatha Christie’s foray into romance, although affairs of the heart can be just as twisted and tangled as her who-dunnits, just as laden with all the heavy emotion love can bring. In a way these stories are Agatha Christie’s ‘chick-lit’ novels - more introspective, less of a cast of players, but yet still with that same economy of writing, those brilliant descriptions, and believable characters.
Absent in the Spring looks at the life of self-satisfied Joan Scudamore, so smug with her marriage and her children, her home and her friends. She is travelling back to Britain from staying with her daughter and the journey is derailed on the borders of Arabia. Stranded in the dessert, Joan has all the time in the world to contemplate her life, and the bright light of the sun slowly dissipates the shadows until all is revealed.
I really enjoyed this, much more than I thought I would. Afterwards I wonder why I didn’t seek these books out before – possibly the front cover of this one put me off – no disrespect to the actors, but this book would work better with an illustrated cover, and more to do with the emotional whirl in the dessert. But if you like Agatha Christie books anyway then these are a real find – such a treat to find an author you like stretching her writing wings in a different genre.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
Contest Winners!
Ginger has chosen the winners, folks!
Actually, although I did try to coax Ginger to pop his paw on a winning name, he tended to sit on them all instead, and then decisions got too much for him, and nap-time called.
Obviously Ginger thinks you are all winners, as you all care about his meal times (a subject very close to his heart, and belly). So I decided to step in - watch the below video for the results, and to hear me wittering!
Hooray the winners! And here are the names if you don't have time to watch the draw above...
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First place goes to Music Obsessive. Congratulations! You will be getting the prizes below.
Second prize goes to VR Barkowski. Hooray! You will be getting this lovely bundle below.
Third prize goes to Karen G. Congratulations! The prizes below are yours.
Fourth prize goes to Pen and Paints. Hooray! You will get the goodies below.
Hopefully all the winners have an email address on their blogs as I will be in touch very shortly to tell you the good news. Thank you to everyone who took part - who tweeted, blogged, or put the contest picture of Ginger in your sidebar. It was actually Ginger and Abigail's 11th birthday the other day as well, so this is all good timing! I had a blast doing this contest, and maybe won't wait so long to do another - who knows!
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