About Muscle Marys

Taking a cue from the heroine of my new novel, I decided to lift some free weights today instead of cardio as I always do at the gym, albeit her gym amounted to a pair of pitted dumbbells supplied by her 'Maestro' in a 1950's testosterone soaked dive at a Mexican bullring and my Y is 'new millennium' sleek and shiny. Despite running an hour three times weekly on the elliptical, I was astonished by how weak my muscles felt. I really struggled to do what had been so easy a year ago. Tomorrow I'll be in pain. But one thing I did notice as I looked around the gym--usually I have my head stuck in my kindle on the elliptical catching up with query-reading. My middle-aged body is in damned good nick after I discounted the young and not so young Muscle Mary's walking round with their tattooed biceps and a third of the 30 and 40 somethings.

Interview with Sarah-Jane Stratford

I'm returning to guesting occasional interviews with authors.
I'm delighted to introduce Sarah-Jane Stratford who's written the novel Radio Girls about a powerful woman, Hilda Matheson, who helped establish BBC Radio in London.

Thanks for coming on the blog to answer a few questions, Sarah-Jane.

Thank you for inviting me.

RADIO GIRLS is set in London in the late 1920s and early 30s and explores Britain’s venerable BBC. As an American writer, what interested you in exploring something so quintessentially British?

I’m pretty attached to Britain, having gotten a Masters degree from York and grown up watching a lot of British comedy and reading British literature. I’m a history buff, and like my fictional character, Maisie, I like to be where history has lived a long time. But what whetted my appetite for this story was Hilda Matheson, whose own interests and influence are universal.

Also, good stories are good stories, no matter where they come from. I’m always drawn to stories of fearless women breaking down boundaries and seeking to create something, to speak their true voice. Ultimately this is a women’s story and a human story and where it took place was secondary to the draw of the characters and the story.

What made you decide to use an actual female BBC producer to explore the work ethos, bigotry and foibles of the period?
This whole venture would not have happened had I not stumbled upon Hilda Matheson’s name when I was doing research on women in journalism. So there you go, another reason to conduct regular research. Hilda was one of those gifts a writer always hopes to come across but you don’t expect to actually find. Of course, I could have invented her – that is what fiction is meant to do, I realize – but I love writing historical fiction that is grounded in real history. It’s a nice way to bring my two obsessions together. Or possibly it’s my means of assuaging my guilt about never completing my PhD. In any case, there I was, reading about Hilda, mouth hanging open, being more and more astonished that such a woman existed and was mine for the taking. The comedian Sandi Toksvig had cited Hilda in an article on women who ought to be more known and I was determined that was going to happen.

Right up to their last scene together, Maisie and she addressed each other by their last names even though they’d worked for some time together. Was that intentional?
What I love about this observation is that in fact it feels that way, but it’s not the case – they still address each other as “Miss Matheson” and “Miss Musgrave,” which would be standard for the times and women of two different ages who weren’t related. But I’m delighted that the mutual respect and friendship comes through, even with the formality. In fact, there’s only one instance where Hilda uses Maisie’s first name and it’s a moment of high emotion, a rare moment when Hilda forgets herself because she’s overwhelmed. And what’s overwhelmed her is the information that the Equal Franchise Act is being passed, guaranteeing universal suffrage. This was one of my favorite sequences to write, because there was a lot of history to think about. So many women who had worked for this and never got to see it – never even got to see the suffrage granted to a select group of women in 1918. Hilda, a staunch progressive, must have savored this moment. It was exhilarating to write her emotion here and, hopefully, convey the weight of the history behind it.

I’ve read you’re keen to see an historical blue plaque erected at her former home to acknowledge her life and work. How’s that going?
We shall see! “Onwards and upwards,” as I have Hilda say. She only finally got her own Wikipedia page! And it doesn’t mention Radio Girls, not that I noticed (*cough*). I’m really hoping that as people get to know about her, they’ll only want to know more. Because really, how could it be otherwise? She was extraordinary – and revolutionary.

Beanie’s a thoroughly aristocratic English character who’s clever, witty and great fun. One can easily see she was a bit of a rebel at her school. But she realizes she must put duty to family before her work? How did you set about developing her so beautifully as a memorable secondary character?
Thank you! She certainly was a fun character to write. I love characters who have no filter and just speak their mind. And while I always want minor characters to be fully realized themselves, it was particularly paramount in this story that all the women be in full voice. I wanted to represent someone like Beanie, who would be in a way more radical than some of the other women in going out to work, because while her comforts were greater, she still had a great many conflicts to contend with and her class privilege in many ways curtailed her personal freedom.

You lived for a time in London? How did that help your research affect the novel’s voice?
I’m generally of the mind that you don’t have to visit a place to set a work there because again, so long as you are writing truthfully about humans, you’re being authentic. Obviously, it depends, but I never think it’s wholly necessary. That said, having spent time in London and especially walking down Hilda’s street and through the BBC’s original home definitely helped me step into Maisie’s shoes and, hopefully, make her wanderings that much more real. Beyond the physical space, though, it was the research into the programming and day-to-day life of the BBC and the people who comprised it that really brought the book to life. I was extremely fortunate in that Hilda was a prolific letter writer and wrote to Vita Sackville-West constantly during their 2-year relationship (who says long-distance relationships don’t have advantages?) and that the letters are housed in the Bienecke Library at Yale, so I was able to access them with ease and get a strong sense of Hilda’s voice and inner life. Mostly, though, it was thinking about the characters and their world that made it all real.

What inspired you to become a writer?
Hm. Insanity?

What’s next for you?
I’m in that myopic stage of feeling my way into my next book. Also, I’m available for work. At quite reasonable rates. Sometimes just for food.

You can find out more about Sarah-Jane here

Exciting Development

I will be reactivating this blog and am in the process of updating the information. Several years ago, I joined Facebook and Twitter and it was easier to post my goings on. However, new opportunities have arisen that compliment my writing career which I will announce next week. Stay tuned.

Guest on Caroline Smailes Blog

Novelist Caroline Smailes invited me to do a guest spot on her blog so I wrote about the challenges of writing a screenplay out of a novel. Here's the link

YA and this adult reader

Just finished reading The Hunger Games. I loved it. And that's saying something because YA is not something I read. I couldn't even get past page 20 of the first Harry Potter but did watch the movies. I think The Hunger Games appealed because it's lean and focused in that it gets to the main conflict quickly and doesn't lose track throughout the narrative. It also helps that the characters are relateable and the plot's set in the real world, albeit that it's in the future and has some futuristic qualities. I think that's why it's appealing to a wide audience that includes adults.

Good story that's suspenseful. Good characters.

Looking forward to tucking into Book 2.

Winning the 'Lottery'

Lottery


"My name is Perry L. Crandall and I am not retarded."

So begins this debut novel I've just read that's best described as wonderfully quirky. It's called Lottery by Patricia Wood and it unfurls in a town by the sea in Washington State with a quick jaunt on vacation to Hawaii with his friend Keith and, oh, his grandmother's ashes.

As the title suggests, the plot revolves around the protagonist--who's slow but innocently smart--winning twelve million dollars in the state lottery. Of course, once the press reports the winner, out of the woodwork come a flood of letters pleading for help. There's also his avaricious family to contend with, including two brothers, their grasping wives and a mother who's abandoned him. Brought up by his hardy grandmother who's knowledgeable in seafaring and has home-schooled Perry, he's able to hold down a job at Holstead's and is remarkably skilled at coming up with new business ideas which flourish, much to the delight of his boss, Gary.

When his Grandmother dies, the fun begins pre his winning the Lottery when his family--whom he refers to as his brother-cousins--swoop down and make him sign the house she's left to Perry over to them. Matters escalate after the Lottery win, though Perry has Keith and his boss looking out for him as best they can.

An enjoyable, compelling first novel and a wonderful stocking filler.

And here's a Christmas/Holiday bonus--an interview with the author.

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DMN: You decided to make Perry, a young man with learning disabilities, your protagonist which was intriguing. What inspired you to do this?

PW: I have taught for many years and my PhD work was in disability and diversity and my brother in law had severe Down syndrome. I saw how people who are perceived as different are marginalized by our society. I purposely didn’t label Perry- yes he has cognitive challenges- yes he is slow and yes there are many things he doesn’t understand. He sees the world differently and I felt that would make an interesting and challenging character. Both one who was limited in terms of understanding yet astute in his observations.


DMN: His personality is well developed as the book advances and we do care very much about him, especially when we see how callous his family behave. Have you had experience working with people with learning disabilities or did you base the character primarily on research?

PW: While as I said before I do have experiences in these areas, essentially Perry came straight out of my imagination. In my work I did see students living with aunts and uncles, with grandparents, with friends and while generally people think it’s exaggerated for fiction’s sake, it really is how it happens to many children- especially to young adults who have special needs but who are able for one reason or another to live on their own. If you want to see how society still treats these people -- go to Good Will Industries and watch what happens to them when they get off work. There are still many unkind people in this world and it isn’t just confined to the school playground.


DMN: Much of the novel takes place around the world of sailing and it is clear the protagonist is extremely proficient in that world. I know you own a yacht. Have you always been interested in sailing?

PW: When you talk about me owning a yacht it sounds quite luxurious but I assure you the reality is far more pedestrian! I have lived by the sea most of my life and love it- and my husband has always been an avid sailor. Our 48-foot ketch ORION is quite ordinary by sailboat standards. We do most of the work ourselves. It’s our home and we live aboard which is a life style decision. It?s small and quite energy efficient. There’s something freeing about an unconventional living space that enhances creativity- ORION is where we live. She is our home. It was a natural extension of that to have Perry a sailor as well. It is an endeavor that rewards feel rather than intelligence. To be able to sense and feel the way the wind blows is unique and does not depend on ‘smartness.’

DMN: Perry's mother is a very unsympathetic character even though we do not get to know her in the book. Did you deliberately choose to have her absent and, if so, why?

PW: This is a little known reality in the world of special needs children- having both a mother and father is a luxury. Mothers and fathers - through divorce and poverty do abandon even normally abled children. Many of my students lived with their grandparents. I’m of the generation where we often have our children’s children AND have to take care of our own parents. I know those who reject this scenario and leave- It happens all the time. Oftentimes we chose not to see it.

With respect to the characterization, since my narrator is both unreliable AND cognitively challenged he sees many things in black and white- those people who he doesn’t have much to do with are sketchily drawn because Perry doesn’t do much conjecturing about what they’re really like or their motivations. I had to be true to this. I also wanted to give the book the feeling of a parable where good and evil are more distinct and there are fewer shades of gray.


DMN: I read you have gone to book signings by sea as well as land. Do you set up your signing schedule so you can sail from Hawaii?

PW: No not at all lol! It’s very difficult to make long passages like that. My home stays moored at the dock unless we do a short day or weekend sail. But I have done book clubs aboard boats and that has been great fun. Book clubs to me are a huge bonus. I enjoy interacting with readers and discussing aspects of my novel.
When groups contact me I can usually be present by speaker phone and sometimes ichat or SKYPE.

DMN: Do you write every day?

PW: Yes. I may not write on my current work in progress but I do write every day. I have several novels at various points in the editing process and tend to write a horribly disjointed first draft to get my ideas down and then spend copious amounts of time revising and rewriting.

DMN: What's coming next?
PW: A coming of age story about impossible dreams with an unusual narrator that’s set in the 1980’s.

Thanks Patricia, and good luck.

Approaching the finishing post

This week has been a productive week, both from a writing and strategy perspective with regard to my new novel.

The finishing post of the new novel now entitled Tangles in the City is in sight and I'm very excited. Hopefully that will occur in the next few weeks. What was once thought to be a rewrite when it was taken by The Friday Project has become an entirely new novel that will spawn three or more sequels and I have enjoyed most of the time spent writing it. Some characters that were minor, existing only to move the plot forward, have taken on their own lives and the book is richer, I feel, as a result.

The novel, set now in 2001, spans two cities, namely London and New York City.

Some last minute research is ongoing. I needed to speak to someone in the UK's Special Branch (MI5) as one of the plot points revolves around an arrest of a character suspected of terrorist affiliation. That hasn't happened as yet, but I've now made contact with a TV director over there who writes about police and organized crime and that has been very helpful. There are also a couple of excellent books I've ordered from my local library dealing with the issue.

And, as it will go on submission to houses in the United States, I chatted to my agent in NYC this week and he wants to read it as soon as possible and give me his take. I've promised him a copy sometime in March, so that will be my incentive to get it done.

So all systems go.

Insistent characters

A lot going on at the moment as I'm preparing to leave for Europe soon--Spain and Ireland. To top it all of, it's July 12, Orangeman's Day back in the old sod though of course I don't take part because I'm the other sort. Live and let live! New Northern Irish tourism slogan--or should be.

Editing started on Unusual Steps--the new novel--and the UK publisher has now emailed 12 edited chapters. As I read Scott's edits, it struck me that perhaps the Unusual Steps manuscript contains two novels (I'd thought this originally)as it's a long manuscript and alternates between three people's points of view. There's Marcus, the shy Irish chappie who moves to London in search of adventure, and Julia, a wellbred young English woman who's an immigration officer at Heathrow and hedonistic, and finally Tilly Hartley, a meddling widow. Oh, and by the way, Julia's lesbian.

I'd always conceived of this novel as a series from the beginning. It's kinda 'in' to write series now, right!!. Well, that's not the reason I'm doing it...not at all. It's just I love the characters and they have a lot to say. They're interesting and some are just downright eccentric and I'm having a lot of fun with them and, let's face it, writers should have a bit of fun with their creations when they labor alone in quiet studies and dens.

It's certainly a very different novel to Gabriel.

Anyway, both the editor and I chatted today after a few days of pondering--via Skype, which is the way to go if you're calling the UK because it's computer to computer and free--and we've decided its definitely the first two books in a series and I'm now going to pull the story apart and write Marcus's story. After I've done it, it'll be sent back to Scott who'll edit it.

It's a lot of work, especially since I've just emailed my agent the finished nonfiction manuscript of my first few years in America. After he and Lyndsey read it, they'll send me changes they recommend and that'll have to be reworked, too. But stories must be written the way they're intended to be written. No half measures allowed, not in my book. And besides, my characters refuse to allow me to tie them up in one big novel.

So all in all, it's going to be a busy, busy Fall.

On writing and a bit of news

For anyone aspiring to have their work published, there's a very illuminating entry in Scott Pack's blog today that's entitled What was the name of the chap who rejected the Beatles?

Scott is the commercial director of the The Friday Project, an independent publishing house in the UK. I'm delighted because they will publish A Son Called Gabriel early next year and my second novel, Unusual Steps, thereafter.

I love independent publishers and TFP is the perfect house for me because it has the energy, creativity and huge enthusiasm of a small house backed by the distribution muscle of Pan Macmillan which gets their books into all the places where books ought to be. Scott will be my editor for Unusual Steps and we've already begun the edits a few weeks ago. It's hugely exciting because he 'gets' the novel and he actually edits, as opposed to some at the larger houses who, due to corporate policy and/or lack of experience, do no editing at all. As I go through the process I'll post my thoughts.


Anyway, back to writing and the acquisition process. I think it's wonderful and very useful that writers are able to tap into insights like this from a publisher's perspective. And, while he's realistic and remarks how competitive the market is, he gives encouragement and hope to unpublished writers, which is vital. He also talks about writing competitions.

Without the net and blogging, it just wouldn't be possible to get such valuable info.

Here's the link:
Me and My Big Mouth

Turning it over

Yesterday afternoon after a marathon session--and it was a marathon session with no interruptions permitted and the imbibing of lots of cups of rich, fragrant Puerto Rican coffee, no switching over to the internet at the flick of a button (the peril of having high speed) to check pinging emails or surf fav' sites--I finished the first draft of what is still called America and Me:The first two years.

(I've decided the title stays until I come up with something I feel is the publication title, which will in all probability be in the US first as it's set mostly here. I know. I know what you're thinking. Publishers acquiring the work change working titles all the time. However, I lucked out with A Son Called Gabriel because my US publisher loved it and didn't consider anything else. My second novel, Unusual Steps, will also get to keep its title, but more about what's been happening when I have something concrete to relay.)

It really is so satisfying to enter that final period (full-stop elsewhere) on a manuscript and gaze at the screen and say 'I've finished the first draft.'. It came in at 87,872 words; 31 Chapters and 313 pages. It's also split into three sections--the first and tiniest dealing with London followed by New York and Pennsylvania in a more or less equal split. I'm pleased with it, but know from my experience of working on 'Gabriel' that scenes will be added and deleted. The difference is that I have lots of material to work with.

I am now turning the project over to my subconscious--which'll work behind the scene as I focus my attention on other things--editing, chopping, analyzing and rewriting so that when I take it out again I'll be able to start writing immediately. It took me a while to trust that this is a necessary part of the creative process. I look forward to it, though I'm sometimes accused of being too distracted or 'far away', not enjoying living in the present because my mind is indeed working out issues, toying with alternative words and improving descriptions,etc. and can tune out. One thing I do know is that, during the rewrite, I will give the chapters titles rather than plain old numbers, something I've never before done.

It's been a tremendously positive experience writing about how I came to America and my first two years here. I highly recommend writing about your past to everyone. Life moves so rapidly today, I think we forget to take stock and see where we've been and how people coming into our lives and experience has affected us. I'd forgotten so many of the downright whacky and funny things that have happened to me here and the struggle to assimilate and it's shown me how American I've become.

A word about 75,000 words

Yesterday I reached a critical point in the writing of my first work of nonfiction, the one about my coming to live in America, and have been toying with the idea of publishing an excerpt on the blog.

Anyway, I reached a critical point yesterday and passed the 75,000 word mark. I don't exactly know why 75,000 thousand words is so important, but suspect it's because it would be a pleasingly thick book, a book with heft, if it were to be published tomorrow--the sort of heft that asserts 'I have 270 ragged-edged pages inside for you to feel and I am well worth the $24.95 you'll fork out for me in hardcover.' ($24.95 is a sort of median price for hardcovers here in the US.)

I also know the ending now--the final scene ran in my head yesterday like the speeding ticker tape at the ABC TV studios in Times Square--and the manuscript will come in at around 80,000 words in its rough form.

Of course, word content doth not a quality book make. I know that. That takes good writing and an interesting story, which requires a great deal of drafting and redrafting until one is sick of the manuscript so one doesn't ever want to see the manuscript again, hates and loves and hates and loves the manuscript, sometimes wants to hurl it into a blazing fire because it makes one think one is a shite writer. Oh, and a great book requires a great editor.

But, to get to the love-hate-love stage I must have words, at least 75,000 words. Because then I know I have written a book and I can slash and add and edit with impunity. I can because I do not have to fear facing a blank screen page that cries to be filled. I need to have that knowledge. It's my security blanket.

Now to think up an interesting title because I don't think America and Me cuts it for me any longer.

Marigolds and beer

Nothing like getting a bit of earth dirt on your hands in spring.

Yesterday was a warm, sunny day and I felt the need to do some outdoors work instead of sitting at my desk typing on the laptop. I like writing but sometimes get tired of it and just want to do some hard manual graft, the sort of graft that makes you feel like you've accomplished and achieved something of significance, the sort of graft that makes you feel good to be alive as you slake down a good, ice-cold beer afterwards--and I'm not talking about the weak mass-produced pee that passes for beer here in the US. No sir, I mean good beer, beer of the sort that that comes from Ireland, England, Germany, Belgium and American micro-breweries like Victory's Hop Devil here in Pennsylvania or Berkshire Brewing Company in Massachusetts. No matter how good a job I did working on a legal brief or how good I did in court of how well I think I wrote that paragraph or sentence in a novel, I've never been able to feel the depth of satisfaction I feel when I've mowed the lawn just so or mulched the flowerbeds so that the contrast between the ink-black mulch and bright green leaves makes an indelibly pleasing impression in my brain. I think I always feel this way because one can immediately see the fruits of one's labor, stand back and see the big picture--the sprawling velvety lawn, the lush flower beds.

So yesterday, I weed-whacked the untidy grass and weeds growing alongside the edges of the stone flowerbeds and underneath the picket fence. And after that was done, I got my trowel and dug deep into the musty soil, turned up the earth and popped fifty-five baby marigold plants into their new homes. I love the bright orange of marigold flowers and I love their lacy foliage.

Miss Brody thought carnations 'sensible' flowers. Well, I think marigolds are joyful flowers. In mid summer, after the lavish lily shows have come to an end, one can always count on the faithful marigold to maintain the sunny atmosphere...and they do, right up to the first frosts.

I can't wait for them to grow up and bloom.

Oops!!

We decided to go to our local town and have a sandwich for lunch as well as do a bit of shopping yesterday. Because I had my writers group meeting that day too and have to leave the house early in order to get to Jeanne's, I eat supper before Larry so always prepare the dinner a bit earlier and leave some for him to heat up later. It's about the only time I cook, really. Feeling like something tasty, I browned some chicken breasts in a pot, added mushrooms and onions, oregano and white wine--lashings and lashings of white wine--and then let it simmer. I was practically drunk with the fumes of wine wafting into the study as I labored at my writing. I was really looking forward to having this with brown rice on the side. Yummy!

At noon, Larry came back from the other house, peered into the pot and said,
"Where are the carrots? There's no carrots in here. My Chicken Caban recipe has carrots."

Shit, I'd forgot the damned carrots. Without a word, I went to the fridge, rummaged and found an entire pack of peeled baby carrots and chucked them into the pot.

He turned up the heat and we started to chat about our trip to Europe that we're organizing at the moment.

"Hey, let's go and get that sandwich cos' I'm hungry," I said.
"Okay."

I went out to the car. A minute later he came out and we drove to town, which takes about twenty-five minutes because we live in the Pennsylvanian sticks.
Just as we entered the tacky part of town, the part where all the car dealerships with their huge American flags and tinsel bunting lay, I said, "Did you turn off the Chicken Caban?"
No response for a moment. "You know, I can't remember."
"Well, try."
"I think we'd better go back."
"What? let's get a sandwich first. I'm sure you did turn it off and just can't remember."
"No, let's go back now."
I turned in the yard of a tacky car dealership and started home, fuming because I was now ravenous--the sort of ravenous that's exacerbated by the fact you're being denied food.
"Hurry," he said.
"I don't think we want to argue with that," I said, nodding to the cement truck ahead.
"Go. You've got room to pass."
I ignored him.
Twenty minutes later, we drove up the driveway and he told me to stay in the car because he was sure he'd turned it off. Five minutes passed and still no sign of him. Another two minutes and I went inside. The stench of burnt chicken and a wall of smoke vied for my attention. he was nowhere to be seen, but the pot was in the sink, its base black as tar and thick with chicken skin that had merged with the metal to make some form of strange amalgam.

He came in from the back garden carrying the lid.

Well, there goes supper," I said.
"We just got here on time. Another five or ten minutes and the walls and ceiling would have been shelacked in grease."

I shuddered to think of the hours we'd have had to spend cleaning the kitchen cupboards, etc. And because we'd opened the two main doors before we'd left, the fire alarms hadn't gone off.

A little sad about what I would not be having with my brown rice that evening, I picked up a carrot that still looked the correct color and tasted it. It was acrid, tasted of burnt steel, smoke and chicken, the bitter taste imprinting permanently on my taste buds.

"All I have to say is you wash the pot..." I said. "...if it's salvageable."

Getting it done

I just LOVE productive weeks and this week has been such a week and it's not yet over.

A friend, Jessica, opened a smart, upmarket ladies boutique in town a few weeks ago and she asked me to help compose a press release she wanted to send to the newspapers and magazines, which I did. It's great to be able to help friends when they begin new exciting ventures. Hope it does its job!!

And I settled down and did a serious--I mean serious--amount of work on America and Me, the memoir I'm currently writing. The word count is now 55,300 and I'm now at Chapter 20--yes 19 whole chapters have been written--and I think I'll be able to complete the latest today. I'm going to work my arse off this afternoon and do it.

I'm having laughs and bouts of sadness writing it. And it's strange and thought-provoking going over old correspondence and uncovering documents in files that were once vital and critical and celebrated profusely--like notifications that I'd passed the Bar examination, etc--and realizing they've lost that vitality and importance.

Of course, once the memoir is completed, the really tough work begins because editing and redrafting is an essential part of the process. An essential, necessary pain in the arse.